webbed picker

A couple of years before I had a banjo player for a roommate, I wrote a little warm-up song about the first person I ever saw playing banjo, or the first frog I ever saw playing banjo: 

Sometimes I wish I was like 

Kermit the frog; 

sittin' in a swamp, 

playing banjo on a log. 

It was a warm-up song, in that I often played it while my friends were gathering, tuning up instruments, and/or choosing the next song. It was a very much a community song about wanting to be alone. 

Kermit's got the greatest friends, 

and I think I do, too. 

But even he's got to slip away 

for a minute or two.

I forgot about that song for over ten years, then recently reconnected with one of my porch-music friends, and he reminded me of the song. He said he liked that "Kermit the Frog song." We were at a swim party with his family, and we were all going to see a concert in town later. Before I went to the concert, I slipped away to write down the song, so I didn't forget it again.  

Now and then I need to be away to be right here; 
my head needs the stillest waters, just to be clear. 

When Kermit was sitting alone in a swamp, he was singing about connection. My song that I only sang in community, about needing to be alone, came back to me from the community. It's like that mysterious relationship between corporate and private prayer; Sunday worship and whatever quiet daily thing we may do as individuals during the week. Community and solitude are each essential.