Doing Something That Makes You Happy

I went to a free concert last Friday with my family to see a band called Moosebutter.  Self-billed as a comedy acapella group, I had never seen them in person, but was promised a night of hilarity.  Not necessarily because the band is good or funny, but because my in-laws are notorious for making fun of something until you're laughing so hard they start laughing at you.

Moosebutter on Friday night consisted of four middle-aged guys (I say middle-aged hesitantly because one of them went to school with my husband and that would mean I've now labelled myself with that heavy moniker) jumping around and shouting out melodic song parodies.  I think sometimes they have only two guys and maybe sometimes they have five or six.  This night there was a beat-boxer, a phenomenal falsetto, and two other guys.  About every 10 minutes I found them genuinely entertaining, and then I morphed back into complete boredom and confusion.  The show went on for nearly two hours and while my very first impression was that this was 4 winded guys who needed to sit down after the first stanza, by the end I was at least impressed that they were all still standing.

As the show ended, the park lights came up, and we were forced to rationalize the two hours of life we'd just lost, my thoughts went this way:

~That was really bad...I think I stared straight without blinking for at least half an hour
~Alright, they obviously have an audience.  The stage was three-deep with pre-tweens that couldn't contain their enthusiasm.  And, oddly (or sadly), there was an occasional uproar of attention from the larger audience which would indicate that at least the parent's of those pre-tweens were paying attention.
~Good for them for knowing their audience and not pretending they're trying to do anything more...well, surely they hope to be something more, but for now it's a great idea to work with what you've got.

Then I got a tad bit melancholy.  As I listened to the last of the jokes putter out around me, it hit me:  These are four guys who have found something they love to do and are making a living doing it.  As I've done more research (on their humble website) I've come to the conclusion that this definitely is not a day job for any of them.  Maybe that makes it acceptably better-a hobby that people are in some degree willing to indulge occasionally.  Sounds pretty amazing!

On our way out of the venue, my husband made an effort to talk to the Moosebutter member he'd once palled around with.  That is when the oddity and reality finally hit me.  "Mr. Tim" is definitely my husband's age (just to clarify that's only around 35, we're not ancient yet).  He shared great insight on the pitfalls of performing in that particular type of venue with parent-less children storming the stage.  He looked tired, but was so obviously still the center of attention amongst all the Moosebutter groupies.  Then, as we were talking a boy looking  at least 10-years-old came up and called Mr. Tim "dad."  Everyone in our party did a double-take.  Turns out Mr. Tim has SIX kids and still finds time to dress up in a red monkey suit and babble nonsensically onstage every now and then.

Moosebutter in concert ended up being a shot in the arm for me.  Big deal that I didn't find myself entertained beyond my wildest belief, and how impressive is it that we made ourselves feel better by mocking people more willing to share their talents than we ever will be.  I have great ideas about living the life I want rather than the life society has pigeon-holed for me.  People are doing it!  Moosebutter is doing it!  I want to being it, too!