Harmony

Ali and I had almost nothing in common, yet we were as close as sisters for many years. And I learned one of life's best, most enduring lessons through her.

Ali was an amazing artist, while I loved to write. She was a pure tomboy - she played on the basketball team, but I preferred being a cheerleader. She loved John Denver, and I was into Kiss. And as we got older, she tended to swing liberal while I was far more conservative, and we disagreed on most social issues.

As kids, we combined our artistic talents and had a ball making our own comic strip, with her doing the artwork and me taking the narrative. In middle school, I led the cheers for her as she played her sports,  and we accommodated each other with equal time between Top 40 and hard rock on her record player. In high school, we respected each other's opinions - sometimes, to the point of rising to the other's defense as the cultural rhetoric of the seventies grew heated.

But my most vivid memories of our friendship revolve around her efforts to teach me to play the guitar, which was her greatest passion. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't seem to learn the chords. So I attempted to teach her about my first love - the piano - but she never caught on. We shared some hilarious moments back then.

It's been many years since I've seen Ali, but the life lesson I learned from knowing her is always with me. 

How boring and monotonous life would be if we all marched to the same drummer. These days, with so many groups, associations, and organizations clamoring for dominion - seeking to separate us from each other through our differences, instead of uniting us through our strengths - I prefer to walk a different path. 

Because the music of life is richer, so much more meaningful, when you decide to create an orchestra.