Laurie Horam never thought of himself as musical. At home, his dad never listened to music, while one of his boarding school teachers labelled him tone deaf. But last month he started to play the harmonica (口琴) on the streets of Bradford. People clapped, danced and threw coins into his case for the local food bank. Horam caught himself thinking:" How, at the age of 79, do I come to be playing music to people on the streets?"
The question preoccupied him, because, some years ago at a family gathering, Cavin, his eldest son, said: "You know what, Dad? It can't be coincidental. We must have got our musical abilities from you." Horam has three sons and they cover a range of instruments. He was surprised. "There can't be music in me, because I can' play!" he said.
Eight years ago, Horam, a retired civil servant, was on his way back from a trip with his family. Gavin stopped at a music shop. He walked out and said: "Here you are. I bought this for you, Dad. It's a harmonica. I'll try to show you how to play a bit."
They went to a session at their local pub. Gavin played the guitar and Horam sat in the corner with his harmonica, trying to make a sound that no one would hear. After six months, he was invited into the group. He discovered a talent for improvisation (即兴表演)，responding to a note within a millisecond without batting an eyelid. "I don't play by ear. I play by heart." Actually, Horam says: "My harmonica plays me—how I feel, what I am, what I've been."
Music has enriched life with friendship and made Horam feel "part of something much bigger" than himself. "At a time when the circle of life might be shrinking, mine is expanding," he says. "Maybe we never know completely who we are or what we can do."
