Residency in Percussionola

That's right, Minions: Percussionola. That's where I'd like to live. And please, "drum jams" are NOT allowed. I'm invoking a city ordinance...No drum circles within a 1,000 mile radius.

So I had the pleasure of volunteering at the Exodus* program in Dallas. Along with a few other volunteers, our primary responsibility is to simply spend time with children, whose mothers are re-entering society...Having been incarcerated, but also having a genuine willingness to do better, to be better; to commit themselves to a new life filled with gracious hope.

We played, read, ran, wrestled. Aided by my percussive bag of tricks, my contribution was the giver of musical instruments. Funny, it seems children flock to percussion more than any other instrument. Maybe it's the physical aspect of picking something up and hitting it with child-like abandon. (that was profound) It's not that they were totally immersed with what I brought: A couple of tambourines, shakers, vibra-slap (they loved that one) cowbell, triangle...But they were engaged, if only for a few minutes. Not a bad introduction to Greg, the odd-boy percussionist. "He's weird, but I like his bag of music!"

In the past, I hadn't volunteered my time for much of anything. But my "resolution" this year was to serve more, in whatever capacity I was capable of. So, much like what Exodus represents, I'm trying to be better at being better. At least it did my heart some good. I cannot imagine what these children, or their mothers, have been through. It's really none of my business. But I can do this, once a week, playing with the kiddos - living in Percussionola with child-like abandon.