our porch story: adriano

 
In regular conversation about life, what's been going on, the good bad and ugly; I've inevitably shared stories of our front porch to a handful of folks, not fully understanding the beauty behind the story...until they tear up, or shake their head in awe and look at me like I'm crazy because I seem unphased.

So it's apparent that I need to record these stories. In my words, through our experience, if for nothing more than a passing moment of time that we'll remember forever.

Our front porch pickin parties I've mentioned a time or two before have grown into something really special. Really.

They happen on Tuesdays and are now expected and anticipated...invites don't really go out anymore and the surprise of who will show up is half the fun. The sister wives (alex, lindsay & I) cook a good home cooked dinner and the night quickly turns to morn.  There are the 15ish faithful; same folks, same friends each week. They bring their friends...or a random friend may show up on a bike...others join if they're in town and not on the road.
By 10 pm or so, we typically have at least 25 people here...made up of our friends and new friends.

Strangers turned friends
...the folks that literally walk up in our yard from the street.
...the ones that are a friend-of-a-friend and several generations older than us
...all are always welcomed with open arms and an offer of a cold beer and dinner
In turn, we have met some of the most awesome people, y'all. And you better believe, the magic of music, a sing-a-long, sharing a good meal and no worry of time has brought out the best in us all.

So I want to start sharing their stories. 
our story.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Adriano.

Adriano stood at the edge of sidewalk by the wine store listening.  We saw him, gave a little wave and smiled.
He seemed a bit embarrassed then quickly pointed to his ears and gave a thumbs up.
Drake interrupted a strum and motioned for him to come across the street.  He was hesitant at first and especially about coming on the porch, but after our insistence, he made is way onto the porch rail...and for the next few hours we learned his story.

Adriano is from a small village in Italy and had been in Nashville one week.
We immediately recognized a language barrier which made the whole experience a bit more intriguing and mysterious, immediately eager to learn more.  He loves music and especially old country music. So about a year ago in his small Italian village he asked his teacher, "where can I find country music?" his teacher replied, "Tennessee".  So he saved money for a year, arrived in the US and went to an "acoustic camp" in Chattanooga, took at bus to Nashville, with money to stay for only one week.  

He found a job in our neighborhood with a home restoration construction crew. He makes only enough money to pay for his room and a little extra.  He truly did not know how long he could survive here, but before he leaves he wants only to absorb, experience and learn about both music and Native American Indians.

We talked between songs and got more comfortable with each other.
Then he picked up a harmonica.
And ripped that thing to shreds. He was incredible and it was immediately noticeable that he was musically talented.  He didn't understand or know many of the songs we sang but he could play the music.

The words didn't matter, the music did.

Taylor handed him his guitar...he knew how to play but resisted repeatedly until Drake asked him to play his favorite song for us.
So he did, in Italian.

Adriano getting a friendship bracelet.

He took the guitar, threw his inhibitions aside, closed his eyes and broke into song. It was a fantastic and a great beat, so we naturally all got our percussion eggs, tambourines, train whistles & triangle and accompanied him as he sang in a language we didn't even remotely understand.
We were all so enthralled, wanting to know the story behind the words of the song, wondering what it meant to him...then suddenly we could became a part of it. He eased into the chorus and we filled with excitement because we recognized those words, they were universally understood:

A fine string of "la la la la la" 's.

And without a single or second thought, everyone erupted into this chorus, taking his lead on the tune. 

I looked up after Adriano realized what was going on and his eyes were filled with tears.
He could have played that chorus all night long and we would have never tired of it; of the spirit and the continuity behind it.

I literally felt my heart spaces fill.

He proceeded to the second verse and we all anxiously anticipated the upcoming chorus...and we rocked it, we perfected it. Drake grabbed his guitar and strummed along.

Adriano stopped playing, brought his hand to
his heart
clutched and patted it.
for us.
in appreciate and joy.

It was simply beautiful, y'all.
I hope we will see Adriano again and that he will grace us and our front porch...but who knows -- maybe and probably not. It's the spirit and of he and his string of simple words that has connected us and become a part of....our porch story.