It always pays to put enemies in the rear and forge ahead with your life. They can only control us if we let them.

Stephen Pate, Always on Stage Victoria Row

When someone steals your identity it feels like thieves have broken into your home. It happened to me when a quadriplegic stole “Disability Alert” for an identically named website.

It’s a childish and sick thing to steal some one’s identity. I feel sorry for him. His life is obviously miserable and he’s easy to pity. However, being disabled is not an excuse to steal. We have to make plans to regain control and it may mean some nasty legal business.

I discovered the theft at 2 am Thursday morning. I’d just gotten home from a performance. Don’t tell my mother I was out that late.

Most of yesterday was spent in a whirl of meetings legal and otherwise, phone calls, emails and blogs. By late afternoon I was wound pretty tight.

A Facebook friend suggested getting out and enjoying the summer day. Bon idée! (Note – the French expression came spontaneously from the inner workings of the computer.)

Before I could leap from the keyboard, a new song flowed from my mind and onto the screen. It worked in a single pass and is called “Two fisherman”. Something tells me parts of the song will be in French since one of my grandfathers was French. 

I jumped up and went down to Brennan’s for supper. My friend Bruce reminded I should learn “Sukiyaki” by next week for his Japanese students. That will be fun as they sing in Japanese while I play guitar in guitar. Weird after a tourist asked me for a Japanese song two weeks ago. Oh please computer don’t switch to Japanese!

Chris Budhan, playing jazz on the band stand, asked me to play at 7pm, an unexpected treat.

At 7pm, I was ready to roll churning out Dylan and Elvis songs on a equal mix with my own. Soon the anxiety of the quad’s identity theft was gone. There was Joy on my face and laughter in my voice.

A couple went by with a tiny one year old boy while I was finishing a blues, in E with triplets. The little guy started dancing to the music. He came towards me up the ramp and the magic grew.

I improvised the next verse about him. For five verses I made up lyrics as I played about his eyes, his smile, hoodie and dancing.

You’ve got a hoodie it’s so fine
You’ve got a hoodie it’s so fine
You’re a handsome boy, I wish you were mine.

The audience across the street receded from view. I heard later they were enthralled with lots of oohs and aahs.

Although only a year old, he knew I was singing to him and about him. We looked directly at each other. His father and mother smiled broadly. The tiny boy kept coming closer until I ran out of ideas.

It was a priceless moment. Life has magic in the middle of chaos. We need to be at peace to see it.