Playing Second Fiddle

Two weeks ago my sister and I surprised Mom by taking her away - off the farm - for a weekend in Nashville, Tennessee. We had a really wonderful time together celebrating Mom's 65th (6-5!!!) birthday. I can't remember the last time the three of us shared a hotel room, but it brought back fond memories. Mom still put the unused hotel soaps and lotions in her suitcase so the staff would restock each day. Old habits die hard. 

We ate well over three days and didn't sit still much. In fact, I think the longest we were stationary was during a 2-hour show at the Grand Old Opry. One day we walked over five miles checking out the Music City attractions. We did take Mom to Broadway St. so she could experience the crowd, live music from the "next great ones" and stale beer smell. She didn't seem overly impressed, but I think she enjoyed the people watching. 

One stop we made on Broadway was to The Second Fiddle, an old honkytonk with a small stage and large assortment of historic Nashville memorabilia along the walls. 

We sat and watched a small band play a few old, recognizable classics. The lead singer obviously had the attention of the crowd with the microphone, but not without the talent of the few behind him. They truly were playing second fiddle at The Second Fiddle, I thought to myself. What a way to spend a Saturday. 

Each band member played passionately and loud, waiting for someone to drop a couple dollars in the tip jar next to the stage speakers. I noticed almost all of the band mates were wearing wedding rings. I wondered if their spouses were playing at a bar next door, or perhaps even waiting tables there. When they were done playing, they packed up and left so the next small gig could move in. But the band seemed to split, and all seemed to go separate directions. 

I thought about how I spend my time, where I invest my energy and where I might play second fiddle. Sometimes after my husband folds the towels I desperately want to re-fold them the way I prefer (with crisp, even folds), but in a rush to mark the next thing off my list, I put them away without doubling the effort, thankful for his contribution to our “band”. 

And while we were in Nashville for three days, I was constantly expecting Cody to call asking questions about how to prepare one of Caroline’s favorite meals, or what to give her for teething or how to properly put her hair in a ponytail, following her natural hair part. And do you know what? He never did. The only time he called me in three days was to ensure we weren’t at a Waffle House on Sunday morning when it made national news. 

Semen tank and open fire: 
Dad/Daughter bonding, I guess

The truth is, not all of us can lead the band at all times– though I think often as women we have a hard time realizing that. We have an instinct to lead all areas at all times with our hands in everything, and quickly become overwhelmed, stressed or short fused when things don’t go just as we planned. 

If you look around, you’ll find a large group of folks who are perfectly content playing second fiddle, doing what they need to do, to make a business work, a family function or an event go on without a hitch. You'll find people take care of small details quietly, and doing it well. You’ll see classmates who need not be the center of attention, custodians who never once complain (even during flu season…) and men who don’t drive the bus, but they sure keep it running. Those are the “second fiddles” who actually make the band sound great. Those are the people who play smaller roles to make life’s band grand. 

Those are also the people who don’t consider refolding the towels after someone else already has, they just put them away without another thought. Studies show that most second fiddle players are not mothers. I do all my own research. 

I guess if there was no one to play second fiddle we wouldn't have much of a band. Or church. Or school. Or business. Or home life to raise our families. 

So I return from Nashville with a new perspective, a new outlook on my role within our home and community and newfound respect for those perfectly content in the back row. 

You make life’s music worth listening to.

Save me a seat.