Musicians have rhapsodized about, and lamented, being "on the road" for as long as musicians have traveled to play for people. The road takes people to things--that's usually good. It also takes people away from things--friends, home and family--that can be bad. So...there's plenty of grist for the songwriting mill.

Rather than obsessing on the road, I find myself focusing on the intersections. Musing about the road can lead to self-absorption; the intersections always involve others. Performing is about sharing music with others. Getting there is the means to that end.

The road just connects the intersections with each other. Those intersections are where we meet and interact with our brothers and sisters in the human race.

A gentleman comes up after a performance to introduce himself. He proceeds to tell me that as his father lay on his deathbed, he asked to listen to my CD called "Solo Guitar Serenade". He passed away while it was playing. A lady comes up after another show to tell me that she gave birth while listening to one of my CD's. A friend tells me that he and his wife use another CD as the signal for their kids to quiet down and get ready for bed.

Those are intersections. Another occurs at the beginning of a show in Moab, Utah. As a parent I know the sound of a small head banging against a door. I hear the clunk at the back of the auditorium; I say, "Uh-oh" from the stage; and then there is the wail of a small, bruised child. The audience and I are all witnesses, and sympathizers.

And, of course, you just know when that little child in the front row would like to sit on stage with you for a tune or two...and you make his year by letting him do it.

Too often we think of ourselves as playing instruments. Too infrequently, I fear, do we think of ourselves as instrumentalities, through whom the spirit and power of music can flow out to others.

Too often we focus on what we are going to play; not often enough do we think of what role we are going to play.

Another intersection: A few years ago I was reading best-selling author James Brady's book on his Marine company in the Korean War, called The Coldest War. During that period, I composed a tune for guitar. The tune (called "High Ground") was affected by my reading of Jim's great book; I gave Jim credit in my liner notes, and sent him the CD; he called me and he mentions me in his new book; I sent him a CD of a live show I did, where I explained that intersection; and we became further connected.

Performing is stressful. The approach I describe has the benefit of changing the question "what if" as in, "What if I forget the tune/break a string/hit a wrong note/crater?" to the question "how?" -- How can I enhance the life of the people who come to see me, even if just by giving them a laugh and some tunes to hum along with for an hour or so?

It's not the road. It's the intersections.

El McMeen