Entering the War Zone

I’ve often wondered if I had to enter a dangerous war zone to give a workshop or visit a friend or sing with kids in a school, would I do it? Journalists have a long history of doing just that, but music teachers? Would I have the courage? Would I be so dedicated to my mission as to put myself in harm’s way? Once there, would I be in a state of constant fear?

 

Luckily, I’ve never been put to the test. Every one of the 50 plus countries I’ve taught in and another 10 or 15 I’ve visited has been mostly peaceful at the time of my visit. Occasionally, soldiers with big guns in front of banks or at airports, but never the sense that my life could be endangered. 

 

Until now. 

 

The call has come and I’m about to enter a place filled with maniacal terrorist- anarchists wreaking havoc in a war-ravaged city. Yes, I’m talking about…

 

Portland.

 

At the airport in San Francisco, I’m steeling myself in preparation for possible encounters with grandmother ukelele players, dancing frogs and terrorizing banjo players. I’ve brought my recorder with me to either chase them away—or jam with them. We’ll see which way it goes. 

 

But this much is clear—I’m ready to risk my life so I can play Rummy 500 with my grandchildren, sing Halloween songs at two schools, have lunch with a mime I once met in India and get a taste of Fall leaves.  Go to Powell’s Books and get a Salt ‘n’ Straw ice cream cone. 

 

Wish me luck!