The human soul needs music. If I had thought of it sooner, I would have researched the topic. I am sure studies have been conducted resulting in some scientific explanation. Aside from that, I believe there is a spiritual need that draws us to music. Since time does not allow research, I will take the liberty of sharing my own thoughts and observations.

My knowledge of ancient mankind’s history is limited, but it seems evident that even in the earliest civilizations people found ways to make music. Whether by using a tightly stretched animal hide to make a drum, shaking a gourd to rattle the seeds inside, or blowing through an animal horn, music was apparently an integral part of human culture from the beginning. Although musical instruments and customs have changed drastically over time, we continue to find ways to make “a joyful noise.” Even tiny infants seem to enjoy music, and it just comes natural to sing lullabies as we rock our little ones. Somehow both we and they know that music will help. Appreciation for and even a need for music appears to be innate.

I mentioned in an earlierwriting that, while growing up, my family enjoyed music together. My mother played guitar and sang as a way to relax and as a way to entertain us kids. She later set aside the guitar and began playing the organ when the stiffness in her fi ngers made it difficult to hold the strings to make cords. She knew all kinds of songs from the standard church hymns, to funny songs, to old ballads she had learned from her mother. She even played a few songs she had written herself. We had our favorites and would sometimes make requests. There were plenty of times we also sang together while we traveled in the car or while doing our work. Music always made things more fun and helped pass the time.

There was actually a lot of music on our mountain. Several folks that lived in our community played instruments, including guitar, fiddle, banjo, mandolin and bass guitar. A few times a year someone hosted a music party, and these were always a highlight to me. My Aunt Lela was usually the one that opened her home to these gatherings. The house would be fi lled to standing room only capacity and the front porch would be full as well. We youngerones would run around the yard playing with our cousins while the mountain music wafted out the open windows into the night air.

These memories came back to me as I recently had an opportunity to attend one of those old fashioned music parties on the mountain.

My Aunt Lela is no longer with us, but the gathering was at her son’s house, not far from there. Musicians sat in dining room chairs, placed in a circle, in the middle of the living room. The crowd spilled over into multiple rooms and, yes, even onto the deck outside. Some of the chairs were occupied by the same musicians who had held places in the circle decades ago. Some had changed, of course, but the music sounded the same.

My mother sat on a nearby couch and tapped her toe in time.

I wondered if the music was wafting as far as the little cemetery located nearby, where my dad, my Aunt Lela and many others who would have been there otherwise were laid to rest.

The entire day - the drive up the old familiar dirt road, the people, the memories and, of course, the music - just fi lled my soul. Good medicine, no doubt.

Annette Rowe is a freelance writer from rural Gentry and a speech-language pathologist at Siloam Springs High School. She may be reached by email at [email protected].

Opinion, Pages 4 on 09/04/2013