On Small Sounds and Endless Echoes
Unexpected Impact, "A Song for You," and Saying Yes to the Unplanned
I’ve never been one to shy away from bounded adventure or the unexpected. I’ve uprooted my life to move to a foreign country - twice, actually - both times unexpectedly and without speaking the language. I’ve said yes to people and places and projects that have changed the trajectory of my life for the better, long before I could articulate their “impact.” Again and again, the moments that stayed with me weren’t the ones I planned; they were the ones that arrived unannounced, in the most ordinary of moments, and quietly rearranged who I understood myself to be.
Recently someone shared they don’t attend events unless they know exactly what impact they’ll get from going. And it made me think of this moment I wrote about back in 2016, which has stayed with me for years.
I’m sharing it here because it reminds me that the impacts that shape us most rarely come with a guarantee…only an invitation.
I love you in a place where there’s no space or time
I love you for my life, ‘cause you’re a friend of mine
And when my life is over, remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singin’ my song for you
A glorious Spring day, 2014
Stealing a couple of hours for myself while waiting for an old friend, I’m having a late lunch at the Ritz Carlton in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, one of the most civilized spots in an otherwise clamorous Washington DC Beltway.
Seated alone at a table in their quiet wine bar, I’m intent on enjoying my meal in peace, while reading the latest copy of HBR from cover to cover. I revel in the prospect of being uninterrupted for easily the next two hours, a luxury seldom indulged in by this closet introvert.
The waiter takes my order for salade niçoise and a glass of crémant. I peel back the plastic from my magazine, crack open its spine and thumb through those first few pages of wealth management ads until I locate the editor’s opening letter.
I am barely a paragraph in when I sense someone standing overhead. I look up to have my eyes met by the heavy-lidded gaze of a dapper older gentleman. As if transported from 1940s Cafe Society (which judging from his age certainly could have been his heyday), he was the type of man for whom the term distingué is reserved. He greeted me with a genteel “Good afternoon, young lady!” and with both a wink and a cock of his well-loved fedora he smiled - with his mouth, with his eyes, with his entire being.
And in doing so, he elicited the exact same response from me.
As stealthily as he appeared, so too was his exit. As if an apparition, my new friend was gone.
Before I am able to comprehend just how much of a throwback to another era this brief interlude was, the pianist I’ve not yet noticed seated but 10 feet from my table gingerly runs his fingers across the keys in a descending cascade giving life to the hauntingly beautiful and oh so familiar Donny Hathaway arrangement of A Song For You.
Atop his piano? A well-loved fedora, of course.
(And If you couldn’t already guess, my Harvard Business Review would remain untouched for the remainder of my lunch.)
My smile of recognition was all too brief. Soon I felt a lump forming at the base of my throat knowing it would only be seconds before tears would surely follow. Among the admitted many, the song my new friend opened with holds tremendous meaning for me. And for as long as I can remember, whenever I find myself back home visiting Central Park I scan the surrounding skyline for the iconic Essex House sign, and take a moment to give thanks for that beautiful albeit tormented singer who at 33 years old presumably leapt to his death from a 15th floor window.
To be sure, despite his brief time on Earth, Donny Hathaway left quite a legacy.
Last month, the world woke to the news that the man who composed this song had likewise left us. While legendary pianist Leon Russell was 74 when he peacefully passed in his sleep, his departure was likewise too soon while the legacy he left is also undeniably profound.
It was said the pianist composed A Song For You in just 10 minutes.
Ten minutes. A mere six hundred seconds.
A ten minute “task” that almost 50 years later continues to touch the lives of countless people, many of whom will have that 10 minute “task” emblazoned on our soul always.
I’ve been spending time lately thinking about impact - what it takes to make one, how much effort is required, what the lifespan of a “successful” impact should be. All throughout this exercise my thoughts returned to this particular afternoon at the Ritz Carlton wine bar.
To the impact this gentleman’s greeting made on me.
To the impact made by his choice of song.
To the impact this song ostensibly made on him.
To the impact this song made on Donny Hathaway.
And all the impacts in between.
All because of Leon Russell’s 10 minute task.
Sometimes the smallest sounds produce endless echoes.
Impact.
It’s not about creating a thing. It’s about creating a connection.
I’ve moved across countries and across lives without knowing in advance what any of it would mean. That day at the wine bar was smaller than any of those decisions, but it left the same imprint: the echoes that remain with us longest often begin in quiet, ordinary moments we say yes to without ever needing a promise.
I love how you write. Thank you.
Thank you for this. I just spent a delightful half hour with Donny Hathaway and Leon Russell. Did I expect to do so? No. Part of the delightfulness. Thank you.