My dream job isn’t my real job.  Don’t get me wrong, I like what I do, but it doesn’t make people stand up and cheer, or sing along.

I’ve spent a lot of time in my not-my-dream job helping people to get on board.  While I’ve had some success, it doesn’t come close to what could’ve been had I pursued my dream job.  The problem is, I didn’t know about my dream job until later in life. But hey, it’s never too late.

Kenny Chesney, not my high school guidance counselor, was the first to show me the error of my ways when it came to career choice. At a crucial point in life, I chose to sort of play the flute and piano rather than the guitar. I wasn’t a fan of either instrument but nobody played the guitar in the elementary, high school, or the marching band; all of which my mother made me join. Sure, I learned how to read music but other than a very rough version of Annie’s Song, Ice Castles, and a Bavarian Dance song, I could only pounce across rather than tickle the ivories.  And the flute?  Well, I’d like to say, “This one time, at band camp,” but I wasn’t even that good at it.

Had I chosen the guitar, I could have helped a lot more people get on board, just like Kenny.  My stage name could have been K’eliza G and I would have loved seeing thousands of people at my sold-out stadium concerts standing up, cheering, and most importantly, signing my songs right along with me. And when I stopped signing and held the microphone out to the crowd, they would have kept it going, just like they do for Kenny and many of the other musicians I’ve seen in concert.

I figure that by the time I learn the guitar, write my own songs, and can get people who can remember the words to come to my concerts, sing with me, and fill in the gaps when I hold the microphone out, I’ll be well over 60. My first sold-out concert probably won’t happen until at least 5 years after that. Think of it, gray-haired K’eliza G standing up on the stage, rockin boot cut denim stretch pants, a sweaty white t-shirt over everything that is no longer perky, and a pair of orthopedic cowboy boots.  Get that vision in place and look at it, just look at it.  And then look off to the side of the stage at my fans.  Yes, the ones in the Recreation Room who are trying to sing along. See, it’s never too late to get people on board.