Sometimes it feels like all am I doing is closing another chapter of my life that was once brought me great joy. The chapter that closed this week is playing the drums. After suffering from a chronic foot/ankle injury for several years, I realized that the cause (or the cause of it never healing) was playing the drums.
I tried everything I could to address this:
- I quit playing for months at a time.
- I reduced my playing to every other day.
- I used the bass pedal as lightly as possible.
- I altered my leg and foot technique.
- I tried various stretches.
After a long layoff of 6+ months, I tried easing back into playing, doing light drumming just a few minutes a few days a week. Within a week I was limping and it took 2 months for me to recover.
The last time I played was nearly a year ago. Since then, I’ve had no recurrence of my foot/ankle pain.
What’s the original cause? High arches? Plantar fasciitis? Achilles issues? Lack of flexibility? Old age? Other micro trauma and injures?
Who knows?
What I know is that I would rather walk, swim and sleep without pain than play the drums and live with the pain.
So this week, after looking at my electronic drum kit sitting unplayed for months, I gave up.
I considered selling my kit, but truthfully, the hassle of dealing with Craigslist scammers isn’t worth the effort.
I called several local charities that provide music lessons to underprivileged kids and found one who wants the set. They are thrilled! They are coming to pick it up this week.
To me, other than being able to play, this is the best ending to my drumming chapter.
When I was in middle school living in the ghetto, the Bidwell Community Center was just a few doors up the street from me. At Bidwell, they provided free music lessons to kids in the neighborhood. I met Bob Featherlin, who took me under his wing. He taught me fundamentals. He taught me how to read music. I learned snare drumming so I could join my school band as a lead drummer. At the end of every lesson, we’d jump on the 2 drum sets in his small drum room and he’d teach me beats, fills and solos.
These music lessons at Bidwell were a lifeline to me during a very difficult time in my life. I was the new kid at school, the white kid in the black neighborhood, the poor kid who got bussed to the school across town. I had to make all new friends and start over in a scary place. Adding to this was the chaos and neglectful parenting that was going on in my home. Drum lessons and my teacher’s support were a weekly solace.
I stopped playing in high school because Bidwell closed, we moved and I was faced with the choice of pursuing band or pursing an honors academic curriculum. I chose the honors path. Other than a few hours here and there I didn’t pick up the sticks again until after my wife died 30 years later.
I loved this second iteration of drumming in my 50s. With YouTube lessons, maturity and an astounding (to me) ability to read music, I progressed rapidly. I loved the challenge of 4 limb coordination, sight reading and making music.
My right foot just can’t physically handle it.
So today, I broke down the kit, boxed it up for the organization and will be handing it over to them in a few days.
There’s a part of me that feels very sad about this.
There’s another part that loves walking the dogs, getting out of bed, swimming and sleeping without foot pain. I’ll try to keep that in mind as I mourn the closing of my drumming chapter.
Postscript :
My drumset was picked up by an appreciative and enthusiastic executive from the nonprofit yesterday who told me that she had an 8th grade girl in percussion who needed a set so she could practice to join the Jazz band.
She said she would send me a picture after they set up the set.
I have absolutely zero regrets about this donation. I wish my foot issue didn’t make me give up drumming, but knowing the set is going to a poor kid in 8th grade (like I once was), is heartwarming and makes me feel good. I like that I can honor the gift and legacy that those people at Bidwell once gave to me.