Old musicians in the subway

Street musicians are one of the delights of the Boston T, the name for the subway, for those that have never visited The City on the Hill. Because the city has an active folk scene, I always hope one of the singers, guitar strummers or steel drum players will be the next Tracy Chapman. But on this visit I have noticed that the musicians instead of being young hopefuls are older men, men of the troisième age (third stage) as the French call senior citizens.

An older man played the comb while he sang Dean Martin and Perry Como hits of my childhood in the Government Center station. In between he told bad jokes without ever losing the twinkle in his eye. I happily put money in his container. Our eyes met. "I know I’m not very good, but I’m trying as hard as I can." He wasn’t very good, but to work that hard while being ignored took courage. The only thing I could do was smile.

Park Street station was bustling with Christmas shoppers. A bald man sat near the E car stop singing Christmas Carols. He had a good clear voice and many of those waiting tapped their feet or mouthed the lyrics. I dropped money in his container too.

What I wished I had done was to ask why at this stage of life were they doing this. Did they need the money? Was it a second chance at a dream to perform, a dream that had to be put away for other responsibilities? I didn’t, but I hope it was the second and not the first. In this time with so many struggling to make ends meet, I am afraid it is the first.