It was the banjo that caught my attention. But when the violin joined in, I was hooked. Full of spirit and energy, the music flooded the main street of a small Northwoods town with huge doses of happiness.
Small children began to bob to the beat. Older kids skipped or hopped their way down the sidewalk. Adults smiled and, if only for a moment, paused from their busyness to listen.
The music had such a pied piper effect that I was compelled to sit on a bench and just enjoy the moment. I was pleasantly surprised to see how many folks, children included, dropped a dollar or more into the open banjo case with a word of thanks.
As the pile grew, the gratitude on the musicians faces shone as well. When the couple took a break, I took a moment to get to know them. She was from France, and he from Minnesota. They had met in Portugal, recently married, and were getting settled in their new forest home. Playing the street music seemed to be easing their way to a new beginning—their joy contagious.
Maybe it’s the warm weather, but it seems of late I’ve been hearing more street musicians wherever I go. Farmers markets, city bridges, street corners. And I am glad of it. For whatever their background may be, classically trained or self-taught, these street musicians bring to public places a spontaneous spark of joy that we all so desperately need to hear.
So, I say, keep the music flowing and always tip the street musicians.
For its the street musicians, and others like them, whose joyful music continually reminds us that the light always outshines the darkness.
I'm Marnie O. Mamminga, and that's my perspective.
