How Can I Keep From Singing?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
And hear their death knells ringing;
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing? (Quaker hymn, R. Lowry, 1899)

As I compose this piece, I am returning home from a convention where I had an opportunity to have conversation with several musical performers. Every one of them was reporting the same phenomenon. Since September 11, CD sales are way down, audiences seem lethargic, emotionally flat, perhaps uninterested, and there is a general sense among these performers that folk don't want to indulge themselves or feel guilty about celebrating.

Since September 11, I have found that my concerts have been an occasion for storytelling. I have asked people to tell me stories about holy moments or moments of remembrance since September 11. I have asked them to tell me stories about meaningful times with family. I have asked people to describe the image that is most indelibly written in their mind's eye. I have heard some incredible stories, and we have had some incredible moments of grieving and remembering and hoping.

Of course, we have all heard a great deal of music on the television and radio, and certain beloved songs seem to be popping up all over the place. We need music most especially at times like this. I earnestly hope that my concerts in the next several weeks will offer people an opportunity to grieve, ask questions, remember, wonder, hope, experience community, and realize again the importance of stopping a while to tell a story and hear a song.

Sing, America, sing with all your breath. Sing the old songs and the new ones. Sing the ones that make you cry and make you laugh.

Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam....

This land is your land; this land is my land....

When I fall in love....

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow...you're always a day away.

Everybody's got a hungry heart....

I still haven't found what I'm looking for....

If you follow me, it'll be all right; I'll be the one to tuck you in at night.

Sing out loud, sing silently. Sing with the music, sing by yourself. Sing together, sing alone. Sing on the street, sing in the car, sing the hope we hardly dare believe. Sing until the weight that is crushing your heart lifts a little. Sing while you walk with frightened steps into a new future full of unknown terrors and trials, sadness and solace, disillusionment and discovery. Sing, America, sing.

Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect....

KPM/October 2001