tambourine

A lot of writers find creative inspiration in music playlists. I’m willing to bet, though, that very few are listening to the same songs that I am. Sometimes I start with quiet choruses (for instance), but I usually find my writing groove with Gospel songs like this one. As soon as the musicians hit those first few notes, I’m remembering a tent revival meeting, or a Sunday supper in a steepled church.

When I was a little girl, I’d belt out the words and accompany myself with a pretend or borrowed tambourine. I wasn’t pitch-perfect, and I didn’t always keep time with the music. Didn’t matter; I didn’t notice. Like most kids, I loved making a joyful noise—equal emphases on both of those words. But life sometimes turns free spirits into arthritic old souls, doesn’t it? I definitely don’t want that to happen to me!

On Date Night, I told my husband I wanted to play the tambourine again. No, not this kind! Bless his heart, he bought me one of these:

Go ahead and laugh. My hide’s not quite as tough as my tambourine’s, but I can take it. And besides, I’m not the only one who likes this instrument. Here, for example, are a few tambourinists you might recognize.

Clockwise from upper left: Prince, Stevie Nicks, Tracy Partridge, Betty from The Archies
 

It’s been a long time since I’ve played, and these hands and hips don’t find the backbeat like they used to. I’m not discouraged, though: I just need time and practice. Before too long, I’m going to be dancing in the aisles with my tambourine. Metaphorically speaking.