Sidewalk Chalk

Written by Greg Whitt Saturday, 29 May 2010 00:00

This Memorial Day weekend I hosted a cookout in my back yard for friends and neighbors.  Roughly fifteen of us were grillin' and chillin' under the trees, around the picnic table, and in the hammocks.  Like any gathering, there were certain factors at work that help to build community.  In this case, they included good food, drink, music, dance and art. 

I live in a historic neighborhood of 70-year-old cottages on 24-acres under giant oak trees.  It's a regular wild kingdom with all sorts of bird and animal life roaming. There's a wonderful breeze, great shade, and expansive lawns on a central courtyard that's probably three acres all on its own.  It's an idyllic and pastoral setting in the middle of Raleigh's hustle and hubbub.  Of course, it's nice to shake that up a bit on occasion, too.  Annelies and I host movies on the lawn there, hanging a sheet on our hammock string and mooching an LCD projector to share musicals, movies from our youth, and socially-conscious cinema there. 

I wanted to gather my neighbors and so I broke out music from my extensive collection of flamenco tunes accumulated during the late 1990's.  While in the Air Force I was stationed in Los Angeles and kept a sailboat in Fish Harbor, just a rock's throw from the cruise ships in San Pedro.  The guy who ran the repair shop in my marina always had flamenco tunes blasting from his boombox on the work dock and I've been hooked ever since.

The food came from the great cookout special running at Whole Foods over the holiday weekend (8 burgers, 8 buns, pack of cheese, pasta salad, and a watermelon for $20!).  Plus virtually everyone brought something to contribute - hot dogs, veggie burgers, tossed salad, hummus, pound cake, and a fruit tart.  I had a nice selection of mix-and-match beers from Trader Joe's iced down in the cooler, along with some yummy organic limeade. 

The art came about when one of the parents broke out a kit of sidewalk chalk and the kids started marking up the pavement.  The simplicity and beauty of the drawings is heartwarming.  It was a perfect addition to a laid-back evening.  Not even the short sprinkle followed by high humidity affected our good spirits. The photo is of Meghan's drawing of my djembe sitting on the sidewalk.

Wherever I go, people seem to ask if I'm going to play the drum.  If I'm not working I'll typically pass on this suggestion for fear of taking over the occasion.  Drums are rarely subtle and have a tendency to fill a space with both sound and people.  But the kids wanted to play so I brought out my djembe and noodled a bit on the sidewalk.  Emma (seven) and Renee (two and change I think) took turns sharing the drum with me, each of us playing a little ditty and then moving our hands so the others could play on the same drum.  Simple, but a really profound and intimate way of connecting with others - through the immediate proximity involved in sharing personal space on a single instrument, through eye contact and smiles, through simply sharing your music and spirit up-close and personal, by listening closely and appreciating one another.  It was a truly magical moment.

But then a funny thing happened....  We left the drum and went on to play in the hammock, to chase around the yard, and to turn children upside down (because they really dig that).  That's the dance part!  My mentor Arthur Hull says with a twinkle in his eye "Life is a dance!"  I'm really starting to get it, too.

The next thing you know, I hear drums again!  My neighbor Doug had wandered over, sat down, and was playing all on his own.  He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and was totally tranced out listening to his own inner rhythm.  To my knowledge he has never really drummed before.  Yet that didn't inhibit him.  Fifteen people sitting around less than fifteen feet away didn't bother him (in fact we all enjoyed it tremendously).  Doug was in his own world making his own music and creating his own bliss. 

For me, that's the power of community and the spirit of the drum.  Safe, supported, and grounding so that you can explore with abandon, knowing there's a welcoming space waiting for you when you open your eyes again.  It was a really great day...