I began playing guitar, singing and writing songs at age twelve, and from nineteen played, on and off, professionally. I still play music, making part of my living from those efforts. But the whole experience is that of a yo-yo on a string as illustrated by one of the band members from Ten Ton Mojo.

“The lowest moments usually come from people who love you, but don’t understand you. They see you struggling, and say: ‘Why don’t you just stop doing it?’ But if they knew how important it was…they would never ask that.”

I had a good amount of success in my late twenties. I was in a band called Nursery School on Epic Records. My song, “Sweepstakes” charted and was played regularly on the radio in major cities including New York and Los Angeles. When the A&R guy left, the label dropped us. That was a low. Having the Ramones write a song about me called ‘Ramona’ and winning nine consecutive ASCAP songwriting awards were highs. But there were never any guarantees.

Most of my thirties was spent working odd jobs, struggling to pay bills, and playing late-night slots like on a Tuesday in a room with no people, or maybe just a couple of my friends. It’s not that I felt disrespected, just not noticed. I guess obscure would be a good word, and yet I continued lugging my guitar around despite feeling as if nothing was happening.

“It feels like you’re trying to hammer a nail with a banana. Those are the years where you say: ‘Man, is this really what I want to be doing? Can I live like this and be happy?’” asks Ten Ton Mojo band member whose name I do not know.

Every time I tried to put my guitar down, a lyric would fall from the heavens, and another song would be born. I soon discovered that I needed to be creative to be happy, more than I needed to be successful.

It was during my forties and fifties that my songwriting began to improve immeasurably. My husband, Andre Turan, and I formed a band called JANTURAN, and together we played shows for many years. He’s a talented professional musician and I was lucky to hear my songs interpreted through his voice.

“Music has this way of sinking into your memory, and becoming connected to a certain time in your life” says Mojo man. I’m hoping my music will someday touch people in that way.

I am 69, a stage IV cancer survivor who has taken up playing and singing solo for the first time with what I call the sound saucer, a musical instrument that looks like a flying saucer. I recently volunteered to play for fundraisers for the Federation for the Homeless and the Callicoon Depot, and gigged at The Bagel Festival in Monticello. I did a sound bath for a private club in Smallwood.

I was thrilled to have been chosen to compete in a contest with a cash prize. Winning was not the aim. Just seeing my name as the opening act on the schedule was enough. A few days before the live competition, however, I got this note: “We had to adjust the run of show in a way that no longer allows us to include your set this time.”

Suddenly, my name was replaced by a duo from out-of-town. “They must have known someone,” suggested one of the other musicians. “It was wrong of the venue to do that,” said another. I couldn’t agree more, and yet I became depressed.

“You must watch your health,” said my husband. “And at the same time, don’t give up. Don’t let them get to you. Instead, embrace the journey. This is what it’s like to be a musician. It’s a tightrope walk in the wind, a trek through shifting sand or more poignantly; a song with a changing tempo.”

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.