My brother’s death led to me playing drums in a rock band

Sometimes tragedy forces you out of your comfort zone and off in a new direction

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I was playing the drum part to this fast and hard piece in a Battle of the Bands at Brownies Bar in New Jersey. The guitars were wailing and I was locked into the bass line with the bass player. It was one of those rare, for me, times-when the groove was perfect and I was floating above it. I looked up when someone gave one of those loud “Pay Attention” whistles, to see a guy across the arena shouting “Hey! Woman!” and giving me a thumbs-up sign. Because I was really busy right then I smiled and tucked that little gesture away to savor later on. I don’t know who the man was but that affirmative hand gesture became one of the peak experiences of my life.

I was a 40-year-old wife and mother. I sang in a church choir, baked bread, and had been classically trained as a pianist and teacher. Until then, I had lived a relatively safe and careful life. And, I was the only older woman drummer I knew of at the time.

I had inherited my dead brother’s drum kit and looked up his former teacher and started lessons about three years before. His teacher was a bit of a stickler for getting out there and playing with a group at…