I’ve been flying on an emotional high for the past two days.
On Saturday, Josh Groban live-streamed his first-ever “virtual” concert for fans, and it was everything I had hoped it would be: heartfelt, emotional, and therapeutic. He grabbed his two band mates—Tariqh on guitar and Mark on the piano, both sporting face masks—and holed up in a nondisclosed arena somewhere in California. It was so strange to see Josh alone at the piano rather than flanked by an entire orchestra, but if there’s one thing to be said about Josh, it’s that he always brings his A-game. The man sounds even better live than he does on the record, which is no mean feat. Nothing compares to seeing him live but this was the next best thing and I loved every minute of it.
Whether live or virtual, Josh never fails to elicit my passion and sentimentality, so it comes as no surprise that I spent the entire hour and 45-minute performance in tears, literally pouring down my face. What I wasn’t quite prepared for is the incredible sadness that washed over me as he sang some of his older, more classic songs, songs we fans haven’t heard in quite a while. It really brought me back to some of the most critical moments in my life, moments that were both happy and somber. And considering the chaos we’ve been living in these past few months, all of the emotions that I’ve been bottling up inside just … released. It was complete and utter catharsis.
Music is so powerful, especially when you discover an artist who speaks to you and moves you in ways no one else ever really could. It sounds ridiculous even as I write the words, but I truly don’t know how I would ever survive without Josh and his music. I’ve never felt this way about any other performer. Period. And what makes him even more special is that he’s not just a talented musician; he’s an amazing soul who cares about this world and the people in it, especially his fans. I can attest to this because I’ve met him twice and he is the sweetest, most humble, gracious human being. I could go on and on about this, but I will spare anyone reading. Suffice it to say I’m proud to be a devoted Grobanite.
I’ve written before about how much Josh has influenced my life and how important he is to who I am. Try explaining that to a child, though. At the end of the show on Saturday, my daughter caught me crying and was so concerned at my blood-shot eyes and the tears on my face that she came over to give me a big hug. She’s only 6 so obviously she had no idea why her momma was balling over some random singer on the TV. Hell, sometimes even I don’t even understand my reaction to this man, this ordinary human who just happens to have a distinct and beautiful voice. My husband took a shot at an explanation, though, using one of his brilliant analogies. (Side note: My husband gives the best analogies—they are always spot-on, simple, and thought-provoking.) He compared Josh to my daughter’s pool floaties, explaining that much like my daughter “needs her floaties to keep her head above water in the pool, mommy needs Josh Groban to keep her afloat in the [raging, murky] waters of life.” It’s so true, too. Josh is my lifeline. I honestly believe he has saved me in ways I can’t even begin to describe. I tried once, but my words will never do him justice. I don’t think a devotion like this is even meant to be explained or rationalized or shared. So, I’ll just keep it all buried deep within my soul and take comfort in those sentiments for as long as I’m able.
What I’ve been feeling the past few days, though, is about so much more than just Josh. At one point during his show, he spoke of gratitude and not taking the simple things for granted, especially during trying times like these. And for some reason it got me thinking about the ways in which we humans cope with stress, anxiety, fear, anger, melancholy, all the heavy stuff. So, I started reflecting on the past few months while I’ve been stuck here at home under quarantine and the one thing that’s consistently kept me going, day after day, month after month, has been music. And not just Josh, either (I know, you’re all stunned to read that, LOL, but if I’m being honest, I don’t listen to Josh as much as people might think—unless I’m in a particularly rugged and disconsolate mood). I’ve been listening to everything, every genre, all sorts of artists, sad songs, happy songs, funny songs, Disney songs, Christmas songs (thanks to my kiddos!).
Music plays in this house from the moment we wake up in the morning to about an hour before my kids’ bedtime routine begins. I listen while cleaning, writing, cooking/baking, working, swimming, crying, exercising, complaining, even just sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee in hand. I listen when I’m jubilant, content, at peace, in despair, despondent, scared, outraged. No matter where my head’s at, music never fails to soothe me. It is essential to my mental state, my heart, my soul, my health, my everything. I am overjoyed and beyond grateful that magic like this exists in the world. What a lonely, quiet, soulless place this would be without it (and that’s saying something considering the current state of this planet).
Then I started thinking about an article that I read recently, in which the state of Massachusetts eliminated the arts (music, art, physical education) from some of its school curriculums. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt upon reading that. How in the hell could any sane, intelligent, honorable educator make such a decision? I am filled with questions for these people:
- Would they have wanted these courses eliminated during their own time at school?
- How would their lives have been different without these options?
- Do they have souls?
- Do they have kids?
- Have they ever colored with a child?
- Have their sons ever asked them to draw a dinosaur or their daughters a princess?
- Do they listen to music?
- Do any of them play an instrument?
- Are they bilingual?
- Do they paint?
- Do they exercise?
- How do they blow off steam?
- To what do they turn when the world feels too heavy?
- Have they never heard the beautiful, haunting sound of a cello or a violin? Or the pounding beat of a drum?
- What would a Disney movie—or even the theme parks!—look like without their Disney Imagineers?
- Are they against imagination and creativity? Poetic license?
- Do they honestly believe society can advance technologically, emotionally, socially without knowledge of the arts?
- Can they honestly envision a world without music (at Christmas, church, summer BBQs, fairs and festivals, Broadway shows, Woodstock, ball games), art (Monet paintings, comic books, graffiti, the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, dance recitals, poetry and writing), and physical education (sporting events, the Olympics, health and nutrition, karate and self-defense)?
The ignorance truly baffles the mind. Am I the only one who feels this way? Am I missing something?
I’m reminded of a story that Josh has told many, many times over the course of his career. (Yes, of course I’m bringing this back to Josh.) He was not a popular child growing up and for years he struggled to find his voice. He was timid, quiet, shy, and introverted, and, according to him, frequently bullied as a result. He loved and wrote music from an early age, but he had no idea where to put all the unrecognizable feelings this stirred up. But then one day his music teacher requested that he sing a solo in class—as a required assignment so he couldn’t say no, which he said was key because he never would have had the courage to do it otherwise. And as he sang, he said something magical happened: He realized music could give him the voice he so desperately craved. That it could provide an outlet through which he was able to process, understand, and release—in a safe and healthy way—the jumble of emotions surging through his young body. He credits that teacher with who he is today because if he hadn’t been “forced” to sing all those years ago, he probably wouldn’t be the amazing and accomplished star so many of us have grown to love. And that, in my humble opinion, would be a damn shame and a waste of a beautiful talent.
I mention this story because it takes on an even greater significance now that I’m the momma of two school-age children, especially with regard to my daughter. She’s an extremely emotional, shy, timid, sensitive child, and I worry a lot about her ability to cope with these big feelings. As much as I hate to admit it, the world as we know it is a dark, intimidating, scary monster and I fear it will make a meal out of my kind, sweet, compassionate girl. What if my daughter goes through a similar experience to Josh? What if she can’t find her voice within the realm of math or science or any other subject outside of the arts? What if she’s afraid to voice her opinions out loud or share her artsy talents for fear of judgment, ridicule, or hatred, and then she has no other means of expressing herself? I’m sorry but that terrifies me. And it is absolutely unacceptable.
My daughter loves to sing and dance. What if she’s meant to be a ballerina or a violinist? She loves to create and paint and color and write books. What if she’s the next Monet or the next Mo Willems? Who knows, she could be the next Spielberg or Williams or Hamm. My girl loves to mother her babies. Maybe we should bring back home economics while we’re at it, so she’ll learn how to manage a household. The possibilities are endless, but these are things she will never know unless she’s given the opportunity to discover her talents, her true genius, through exposure to as many programs as possible.
As parents, I believe we all want our children to be well-adjusted, smart, caring, humble, empathetic adults who will make a positive impact on this world. But in order to do that, we must give them the necessary tools to fight the evils that rage in our society, and that means helping them discover their own voices. We cannot do this with science and math alone. Don’t get me wrong, I 100% understand the importance of these subjects (my husband and many people I know are professionals within the sciences/mathematical fields). Humanity will not progress successfully without them. However, I do not believe they are more critical than the arts. We need music, we need creativity, we need inspiration to save us from the chaos we see every day. Just imagine if we could channel our hatred, our animosity, our fears, our vulnerabilities through song lyrics or a sonata or a painting or a limerick or a blog or a dance recital or a triathlon. Imagine the beautiful neighborhood in which we could all live.
Just imagine.
Many of my family and friends tease me about my passion and love for Josh Groban, but how else could I react to someone whose artistry saved me? And to think that may not have happened because a group of educators decided we didn’t need the arts in our schools way back when. It’s demoralizing and disheartening, to say the least. Even personally, if I think about my writing (which I also consider an art), just the mere idea of being able to save or help or inspire someone through the words I put down on paper, just as Josh and his music do for me … man, what an incredible and empowering feeling! And that’s what I want for my kids, too. The artistic license to discover their own voices, their own dreams, their own creativity and use them in the most beautiful of ways to make this world a brighter, happier, safer place for generations to come.
And we cannot do that without the arts programs in our schools.