My Drumming Skills Save the World: The best things in life are free

If this is one of the first blog entries of mine that you've read, you should know that my current favorite song is "Spaceman" by the Killers. It's catchy, for sure, but I love the meaning I get from it: to refuse to buy into what media, politicians, and entertainers say is important, and to sacrifice conformity for bringing our uniqueness.

But on top of all that meaningful stuff, I just love to play that song on Rock Band.

For the uninitiated, Rock Band is the natural extension of Guitar Hero: you pick up a controller that looks like a guitar, drum set, or microphone, and play popular songs by pressing buttons and playing notes you see on the TV screen. You're scored on points, and on a scale of 1-5 stars.

Rock Band has revolutionized most parties Shell and I have attended in recent years, and for good reason: Have the quietest, most innocent friend you have belt out "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys! Get your emo punk sibling to sing Bob Dylan! Download the 80's-inspired single from Stephen Colbert! You soon learn that there's a karaoke star in all of us, and thus that anything is truly possible.

Tonight, I sat down to play drums for a 14 song set. Usually, I feel like it's a successful night if I get the full five stars on most songs. And that is why tonight got hairy.

As I played each song, a disturbing trend emerged: my old drum set wasn't counting some of my drum hits, and the points I lost from them kept me from getting five stars. Now, this isn't too bad if you're not even close...but as I finished most of the songs, I saw that I had been just a few notes away from five stars. I literally just missed the mark.

I played on furiously, each song getting harder and harder, and fatigue started setting in. Hopefully, "Spaceman" was last on the list, and I wanted to go out with a bang.

Wouldn't you know it? The song played its closing notes, and I saw that, again, I had just missed five stars. On lesser days, I would have said nothing, shut off the XBox, cursed like a sailor in my mind, and walked away. But not this time.

"Oh no you don't!" my mind protested, and I gripped my drumsticks tighter, confronting the game as if it were a childhood bully. "No sucker, I want to take you higher."

I replayed "Spaceman", and this time I fought through the missed notes that I know should have counted, got through the tricky parts, and kept the beat desperately, all while I heard the chime the game plays each time you earn a star.

In the last chorus of the song, my arms started giving out, and desperation sank in. "I don't think I'm going to make it," said one voice in my head. "Suck it up and bring on the funk!" yelled another.

And so I did, banging on this plastic drum set as if my life depended on it (and in a funny way, it was amusing to push myself as though it did). I got to the part where I knew only a handful of notes remained...

And then I heard the glorious chime ring out in the family room air, with only a few notes to spare: I had 5-starred the song.

Victorious, I threw down my drumsticks, which surely disturbed Shelley's quiet reading session behind me, and let out a "YEEAAAAHHHH!!!" worthy of Colonel Tigh himself. I then promptly collapsed on the floor in exhaustion, grinning goofily from ear to ear.

My wife, bless her heart, willingly joined in my joy, laughing at the fact that I was so happy over such a thing. I think she's still giggling about it, actually.

How can it be that even after a hard day, or a hard week - or even how today went for me, as Shell and I pondered all the unanswered questions of our future - that we can find joy in the small things? Often unexpectedly?

Earlier, we saw a play in which one of Shell's high school youth group students was the tech director, an older musical called "Good News." Friends, it was more entertaining than "Grease", "Wicked", "Meet Me in St. Louis", "Gigi", "Moulin Rouge", and any other notable musical I've seen. It hearkened back to a time in the 1920's where so many cares we have now, simply didn't matter. Technology didn't rule us, hound us, absorb us back then. It might seem ironic that I'm using a blog to communicate the possible ills of technology, but in this case I'm making it work for me - sending a better message. The musical had a number which trumpeted "the best things in life are free."

We've all heard that saying, but like many other simple truths, we let things complicate our lives to the point that "complicated" equals "normal" or "mature". It seems silly or naive to think otherwise, doesn't it? But what are the best moments of our lives? Certainly, spending money can enhance an experience, but without relationships and people to share it with, what good are the things that cost us money? It goes to show that even $100,000 weddings end in divorce...possibly most of them.

No, I think that the best moments and things aren't what's fed to us on Youtube, on the evening news, on an airbrushed billboard or magazine cover. They are as big as an African American sharing the stage with his family, in his hometown, in front of a sprawling crowd on election night, realizing a dream many of us never thought we'd see. Put politics aside - what I just described was a man's momentous moment shared with his loved ones.

But sometimes, those moments can be as small as a not-so-quiet family room, with a wife quietly reading while her husband pounds on the drums like John Bonham himself, collapsing in exhaustion as the mighty foe of a five-star rating was finally vanquished.

I would wish that we all focus less on what happiness we can buy, and more on how to share joyful moments with people. I certainly won't take Rock Band to the grave with me, but I will certainly remember the moments I shared with my wife that made even uncertain days that much brighter.

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