“Alright, everyone. Circle up,” Cassie says, clapping her hands.
She gingerly makes her way to the floor and sits in the circle with everyone. They all look up at me with anticipation. Grinning, I grab a few of the instruments off the wall. Walking to Gracie, I hand her the tambourine.
“Have you ever played one of these before?”
Looking a little shy, she shakes her head.
“Excellent. It’s so much fun to learn something new. With a tambourine, it’s all about the rhythm. Shake shake shake. Shake shake shake,” I say, timing my words with the shake of the tambourine. “Do you think you might want to help me out by playing this for me?”
She lifts her shoulders but takes the tambourine.
I love it when I can get a shyer kid to participate.
“I’ve also got a triangle. Who would like that?”
Thomas raises his hands.
“Nope. Not you. Kids who give fake sob stories get nothing.”
He then gives me the most awful puppy eyes on the whole planet, and I hand him the damn triangle.
“Okay, fine, you wore me down.”
Sitting on a small chair, I strap on the old guitar and adjust the tuning, wishing I had Kinley’s perfect ear.
“I’m going to sing a song you all know, and I want everybody to participate. Can we all sing together?”
“Yes,” everybody says. Cassie especially gets into it.
I start with “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” keeping it simple, and everybody sings through the first verse.
“Excellent. We’re going to sing it again, but this time we’re going to add the tambourine.”
I give Gracie instructions on maintaining the beat, and she does a pretty decent job. So we sing another round of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” with me playing guitar and her on the tambourine, which sounds surprisingly good. I pause and show Thomas how to come in with the triangle at the exact right time. This can be a little tricky, but it’s perfect for older kids.
Even though he’s tried to act like he’s not that interested, he definitely comes in exactly on time in our third round.
“Wow. Don’t we sound professional?” I say, cracking up. Thomas then gives the triangle over to Joshua, the kid with no hair, and Gracie gives the tambourine to Cara, the girl with her arm in a cast.
“That gonna hurt to shake the tambourine?” I ask her. “Or are you okay?”
Cara giggles. “I’m okay. I can do it.”
“I have no doubts. Now here’s a very important question. Do any of you like country music?”
Thomas wrinkles his nose, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Just kidding. I like country music.”
They all seem familiar with the genre, so I play a bit of “9 to 5.” Not every kid will know that song, but the beat is like catnip. I start with the insistent beat and then show how to hit that same beat with the tambourine and back it up with the triangle.
It’s funny having a bunch of kids sing a song about working a corporate job, but I think they understand the struggle. By the end, they’re laughing, and I switch it up with a few chords from my recent number one.
Thomas, smartass teenager that he is, grins when he recognizes the tune.
“I like that song,” he says, fiddling with the armrest on his wheelchair.
There’s a line in it about boys being able to be themselves, even if it’s not what their daddies thought they should be. I wonder if that’s the line that resonates with him.
A strange phenomenon—at least for someone like me who is happily childless—is the number of queer kids who come out to me. They’re always a little shy about it, but then they spit it out all in one go like they can’t hold it in their little bodies for a second longer. I’m always congratulatory and give them big hugs.
