I’ve met some of the nicest people in airports.
Flying home after a recent trip to Lexington, Ky., I was laying over in Baltimore. Recently, I had been working on an arrangement of It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie to add to my repertoire of songs older than me. With that song on my mind, I was walking through the gate area, carrying the guitar I usually have on non-gig trips and somewhat mindlessly singing the lyrics, “So be sure that it’s true when you say, ‘I love you.'”
A man waiting nearby overheard me and got my attention, saying, “It’s a sin to tell a lie.”
When I turned and said, “Yes, it is,” he asked, “What key do you play it in?”
“G,” I told him. “I play it in C,” was his reply.
That led to some wonderful conversation. As it turns out, he was a piano man who had a steady gig playing for folks in a retirement village. It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie was part of his repertoire as well. He was on his way to Providence, R.I., to attend his granddaughter’s piano recital. He told me about songs they had written together and how, for her 13th birthday, he had bought studio time for the two of them so they could record their songs together and she could record a couple of songs she had written.
We talked about Fats Waller and wondered if this might have been one of the songs that Waller had written but later sold. I told him about my recent discovery of the Quebe Sisters, that their rendition had drawn me to learn the song, and how they had blown me away with their exceptional fiddle playing and tighter-than-the-Andrews-Sisters vocal harmonies.
We were also talking with a woman who worked as a psychologist and was packing a ukulele. She had been playing for six months and was uneasy about her upcoming recital. We talked about what had inspired her to take up an instrument. We agreed that it was a gift and a privilege to play music.
Throughout my life, music has enabled me to make friends and build bridges, and this encounter, waiting in the Baltimore airport to come home, was no exception.
Nice folks.