(Editor's note: The nest isn't necessarily empty just because the kids leave -- after all, dad's still there, with time and opportunity for pursuits that have been on hold for, let's face it, a generation. This is the latest in a series of reflections.)

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LOS ANGELES, Nov. 4 (UPI) -- The decision to try out new songs at open mics seemed simple enough at the time: I was curious to see how total strangers would react to the music and the open mic format specifically serves that purpose.

The open mic is, among other things, a laboratory in which musicians can experiment in relatively risk-free surroundings. It functions as a kind of research and development opportunity, not just for songs but also for trying out maybe a new brand of strings or breaking in a new guitar -- or in my case, easing back into live performances.

Low risk or not, I still had the yips the first time I went to an open mic in Los Angeles.

Experience has taught me it is essential -- whether in music, putting or effective parenting -- to relax and focus at the same time. It sounds like an obvious thing to say if that comes easily to you, but it's an important point to make anyway.

But an old adversary of mine -- older than the yips -- showed up and threatened to sabotage the venture. I've always had a tendency to complicate matters unnecessarily. I'm not sure where it came from but I can complicate a peanut butter sandwich. I couldn't just go play songs. No, I had to justify it.

Why is it important enough to give up an evening? What's so great about any song of mine that I had a right to ask people to sit still for a couple of minutes and listen? Why create and perform music when, to be blunt, nobody asked me to?

There are a good many possible answers to those questions. I guess the simplest is that all kinds of nuts write music. Always have, always will. See? Simple.

On the other hand, music is fascinating in respects we often don't take time to consider.

One of the things I like best about music is that two or more people can express themselves simultaneously and -- as long as you play by music's rules of pitch, duration and so on -- it works out. It can even be beautiful.

It's trite to say music "hath charms to sooth the savage breast" but even if that is so, it's also true that music makes people move. The great percussionist Tito Puente said without music there would be no dance and without dance there would be no music.

On a Tuesday night in June, I took my guitar and my yips and headed to Hollenbeck's, a restaurant in North Hollywood where, for $7, you can get dinner and an open mic spot. (You're not supposed to pay for open mics but as long as I'm being fed I'll call that a fair exchange.)

While I waited my turn my palms grew moist and my breath became slightly labored. I still hadn't decided which song to play -- I wanted to wait and see what kind of music was being played just ahead of my spot so my selection might contribute to something like a natural flow.

The performer just ahead of me turned out to be a very skilled singer-songwriter. Her song was beautiful and well constructed and her singing and guitar playing were so strong I wondered how I was supposed to follow her.

Quick decision -- change the pace. Yeah, good plan. OK. Her song was intricate and rich -- so play something simple and maybe fun.

For my first number I did "I Wanna Be a Cowboy" -- a simple quasi-country tune about a guy who wants everything but couldn't be less interested in working for anything. It turned out to be a good choice -- people in the room generally paid attention and I even generated a few laughs for some amusing lyrics.

It was nice to hear the laughter and to get some applause but for me the real takeaway was a sense that I'd faced the yips head-on and held my own. And it was fun.

Next: If it's Tuesday it must be NoHo