Earlier today, I spoke with a friend about how some people, myself and friend included, tend to be different drummers, moving through life to the unique beat that we hear. My friend agreed. I smiled and added that sometimes the world understands us…many more times, it stands back, shaking its head in confusion, baffled by what leads us.
I’m okay with this. I come from a long line of different drummers. My grandmother, who passed away a couple of years ago, was so much a different drummer and believed in being such, that she and my grandfather named not one but two of their boats Different Drummer. They were proud to proclaim to the world their uniqueness.
Today, we laid my father to rest. It was a gorgeous day, one he would have loved. A gentle breeze picked up as the representative of the military blue taps on his bugle. Part way through the song, I noticed that the bugler wasn’t, in fact, blowing into the horn. Instead, there was a speaker at the end of the horn, projecting the taps for us to enjoy. Couldn’t help but think how different this was. Wonder if my father would have approved….
My father was another different drummer. He’d think nothing of getting in his car and driving four and a half hours up the coast just to stop at a private hamburger stand. Why? I asked him once. He responded by cocking his head and telling me that it was because he loved their burgers. His comment wasn’t said in a mean manner but one that denoted his surprise that I would have to question. After all, to him it seemed perfectly normal to drive that far for a good burger.
Different drummers…the world is comprised of them. Some opt to reveal themselves. Others feel compelled to tuck their uniqueness away and only reveal it to a select few. Me, I suppose I’m a hybrid of the two. Some things I reveal to all. Other sides of myself I choose to keep to those whom I trust and myself. But whether or not I’m proclaiming my uniqueness or holding it close, in my heart, I’m always a different drummer.
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