Backyard Music Festivals

Gathering the kids, dogs, and neighbors together—My Sunday Best #77

Saturday night, my husband and I played at a backyard music festival on a farm near Sweet Springs, Missouri. It started ten years ago to honor a beloved family member (father, grandfather, uncle, and musician) who passed away. The gathering featured live music, which was the perfect way to celebrate this man's legacy and keep the music playing. The event continues to grow every year. This year, there were over 300 people in attendance and more than a dozen different music artists.

The stage was two flatbed trailers parked side by side with string patio lights hung from a few upright 2 x 4 posts. The lights made the stage seem magical. I love a simple hack that adds so much ambiance.

The opening act was Bobby. He has Down syndrome. He sang along to Garth Brooks’ song Friends in Low Places, tossing his head back and singing louder when it came to the line “the beer chases my blues away.” I smiled when he sang that part.

Earlier in the week we helped celebrate my niece Callie’s 30th birthday. She also has Down syndrome. It’s a privilege to get to share the stage and life with these messengers of love.

We took the stage right after Bobby. The lineup I received showed we had a ten-minute time slot. We quickly tuned our guitars and then I started the song Papa’s Girl, which was the one request—it was even featured on the Backyards & Bonfires t-shirt. After that, Mickey sang Sunday Morning Coming Down. We didn’t know then that Kris Kristofferson would pass away that same day. I wonder how many other people were singing his songs as he took his last breath.

A song may seem insignificant in the scope of bigger-than-life world issues. However, it has the amazing power to go beneath the wire, cutting through invisible boundaries and differences, and hitting its mark deep within the soul of every human being. Songs become a part of our very being, living deep in the marrow of our bones until we hear those familiar words, or that unmistakable voice, or even the first two notes. The song For What It’s Worth immediately comes to mind—two notes are all it takes to name that tune.

When I lived in Nashville, I volunteered for Musicians on Call. Once or twice a week I would be assigned to go to a hospital, where a volunteer guide would be waiting for me. Room by room, we would softly knock on the door and ask if the patient wanted to hear a song. More often than not, they did. I witnessed many incredible moments as I strummed my guitar and sang. I learned then, that I was just a vessel for the music to move through—the song suddenly took on a life of its own bringing a smile, a moment of peace, and easing the pain for three or four minutes. Once, a woman waved me down the hallway and asked me to come into her father’s room. He was just stirring from being in a deep coma and she wanted music to be the first thing he heard.

A song has the power to bring people together—to make us stop what we’re doing, look up from our phones, and listen. Bringing music into a casual gathering allows us the opportunity to discover common ground. Backyard music festivals aren’t like big music festivals. There aren’t as many rules—that I know of. You can bring your chair. You can bring in a cooler filled with beer and ice. You can bring your dog. You can park in the grass. And you can even sleep in your car if you want. Everyone can enjoy the music and each other in a casual atmosphere—one that invites ease, respect for one another, and permission to relax, enjoy, and let down our guard. It’s a chance for people to share their lives—laugh, tell stories, reminisce, eat, and drink, as kids run by, one just learning to walk. As I swatted at mosquitoes and watched Dennis play with his new best friend, while multitudes of friendly conversations happened simultaneously, I listened to others share their songs and caught a glimpse of a much bigger picture.

Sometimes, I forget the power of music and get caught up in my trivial expectations of perfection. But then I remember it’s not about me, I’m just serving the song. It can handle the rest—the matters of the heart.

Big change starts small, in the backyard, on the front porch, or in the living room. I believe that seemingly insignificant neighborhood gatherings are the secret to building strong connections that will change the world for the better, like the butterfly effect. After all, we’re all in this together. Sometimes we just need to be reminded now and then.

Gather
by Trisha Leone Sandora

Let’s gather together so we can remember
Things we have forgotten
The life we share
What makes us care
The things we have in common

Let’s gather together so we can hear
A familiar voice again
Tell stories and songs
Of times long gone
And we can all remember when

Let’s gather, let’s gather
Let’s gather together again
Let’s gather let’s gather

Let’s gather together so we can laugh
And revive our sense of humor
We'll sit together and talk about the weather
And our big plans for the future

Let’s gather together so we can share
A meal around the table
Watch the sun set low
Til the darkness grows
And the stars will come out to join us

Let’s gather, let’s gather
Let’s gather together again
Let’s gather let’s gather

Let’s gather together so we can warm
Our hands around the fire
Share silent gazes to faraway places
Where together we all fly higher

Let’s gather again so we can remember
We’re all in this together
That we belong
And we’re so much stronger
When we hold on to each other

Let’s gather, let’s gather 
Let’s gather together again 
Let’s gather, let’s gather 

Listen to the song Gather on Bandcamp or below