I want you to imagine, just for a second.

You're a few dollars poorer but the atmosphere is well worth the cost. Your feet thud on the hardwood floor but no one notices your entrance. All eyes are fixed on the pair of grand pianos sitting on the stage.

No, this isn't a concert by any definition, and no, it's definitely not high class. The pianos are black, but not the glossy black you'd see at the symphony. They're a beat up dull black, done over with that kind of paint you'd buy to paint the set of a play... as long as it was a play with virtually no budget. There is no decoration, no attempt to cover up the gashes which are clearly visible in the well worn wood. I can’t help but think that this place has more character than any concert hall I’ve ever happened upon.

It’s the notes that grab my attention at first.

I guarantee you won't find Chopin here. Or Bach or Beethoven and I think Hayden would roll over in his grave. But the notes ring. They ring with a clarity and a passion and zest of the grassroots love of life that you just can't capture in words or a photograph. It’s something unique that you’d have a hard time finding just about anywhere else. And the crowd buys it, for a few hours, buys into this gig where they are all best friends, where they can let down their guard. The masks they all carry around each day, carefully maintained, are left at the door. No one has to be anything but themself within these walls.

The man next to me can’t sing, but that’s not stopping him from belting out worn verses of a Johnny Cash song. His voice adds character to the collective voice of the crowd. I have to admit that none of us are candidates for a Grammy, in fact, most of us wouldn’t have made the high-school choir if given the chance. But that doesn’t stop anyone from singing along in a hearty, albeit vain, attempt to drown out the piano. On my other side, a woman with no sense of beat or time is clapping along enthusiastically and I can’t help but laugh and clap along with her.

More than just notes, it’s the piano players themselves that amaze me.

They play the piano with the same expertise that they play the crowd. Taking turns, each one brings a different personality to the stage, and the crowd adores each one of them in turn for it. These are men who have grasped the true meaning of the term “entertainer.” They understand that they provide more than just the music we’ve all been listening to. They understand that it is their job to create a community from a group of strangers. And as I look at the faces around me, people of all ages singing along with the songs, the thought occurs that they’ve done their job. Thanks to their work and their talent, in this room exists a common bond between strangers in which we can all, if only for a few moments at a time, celebrate simply being alive.

Thanks for that experience.

Sincerely,
Allison K.
Austin, TX