ON BEING A DRUMMER

 If you’re a drummer at heart you find that everything you do in your life has a count, a beat. It's hard for others to understand or for you to explain, but there's a metronome in your head.

In my mind, a fast walk sounds like the Washington Post March. Slightly slower and more sedate, and it's National Emblem. Much faster, almost a sprint, might be the Ohio State or Notre Dame fight-songs.
The pouring count for enough canola oil to roast a pound of nuts is 10, The pouring count for a generous whisky is 20.

All things have a count and you know what it is after the first time you do it. You take dictation of sounds. If you pour a handful of marbles into a tin can, you probably know how many there are by the number of impacts that your brain has counted without your willing it to.

The best tune for a four-kilometer an hour walk on the treadmill is Chicago's Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is. Bump it up to 5K and it's 25 Or 6 to 4 or Make Me Smile.

Anything you do, anyplace you go, it starts on your left foot and the metronome starts ticking in your head. If you're out of step with whatever song comes to mind, you'll have to skip once to get your left foot on the downbeat or it'll drive you nuts.

When you put a cup of coffee in the microwave to warm it up, you don't have to wait for the ding of the timer to know when to take it out because your brain counts metronome = 60 perfectly, whether you like it or not. If you sit in a quiet place and listen to your heart, you know what your pulse rate is without placing your fingers on your wrist or on your throat.

Every movement has a count and a coordinated memory for hands and feet. Life in movement is one long march and no intentional movement is random. That's what it’s like to be a drummer, and once you’ve been a serious one, that never changes, whether you keep playing or not.

So, I keep telling myself, you might as well play!