Soul Music

I have never really understood the true meaning of Soul Music. It could have some sort of religious connotation, but I think I caught a glimpse of the true meaning of Soul Music at the Camp House tonight…..

Jon and I are here at the Camp House, as we are every Monday night, listening to Rick Rushing and his guys as they jam on their instruments. These dudes sure know how to have fun, lugging in their amps, electric guitars and whatnot. Rick could play to an audience of one and STILL have a blast, but this is all beside the point.

A few weeks ago an older lady began attending Blues Night fairly regularly. The music is loud (!) no joke, but she still comes out to listen. We are here until at least 10, but she still comes out to listen, bless her heart (sorry, I had too…..I won’t ever do it again…..) She seems like a sweetheart, although, I have never actually met her. She is probably 60 years old, maybe older, with a fabulous African-American gift for jiving to good music. I bet she was a heart throb in her golden years. She comes in with a cane, but she leaves it at her table. She makes her way to the dance floor and shuffles herself around with some serious rhythm. It’s as though the music gives her ability and youth that she did not have when she walked in the door.

I sat watching her for a good 5 min. Her hips still found the beat, her head nodded to the music, her shoulders bopped to the tune, she twisted and turned like it was going out of style, her fingers snapped to the beat of the drum, and her feet were in sync; she was on fire. She was all alone, jamming to the beat with no thought as to what other people thought at her attempt to embrace the Blues. She simply got up and DANCED.

We, the audience, were tickled with a chance to watch a woman thrive in her age as both Black and White listened under one roof to the rhythm of the Soul. We melted into an audience with one common thread: Blues. Suddenly there was nothing dividing us; race, age, socioeconomic status were all set aside; our souls were a little more united as we all smiled at this woman reveling in her dancing glory. We laughed as Rick changed the words of songs so that he was singing about her, and we all secretly wished that we could be in her shoes at that moment.

When I get to be 65, I hope that I can still grab my daughter and my granddaughter, head out on a Monday night, and get my groove on.

Oh, and this old dude had dreads down PAST his butt….no joke. They are awesome…not that I would ever actually get dreads….anyway.

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