Some things, regardless of how wrong they may be and how dangerous they are we must accept. What happened to this country I love a little over two weeks ago is something I doubt I’ll ever truly understand in a macro sense. The post mortem is filled with elements that make sense, I guess, and at the same time make no sense at all. We’re left to ask: How could (fill in the blank) happen? Are simple answers to incredibly complex problems the new norm? Is blind allegiance to a doctrine that history has shown to be destructive and immoral time and time again the way to make things “better?” Time will tell.
On a personal level, since November 5 I have been feeling an incredible weight on my soul and I know I’m not alone in that. My friends and I are left to console each other but in this case I think for most of us that consolation, while appreciated only offers a brief respite. Reality - that is the definition and name of the weight.
But one week later, something happened to give me a glimmer of hope. I had been asked some time ago to play during a weekly event here in town called Music at the Table at St. Barnabas Church and held in their Great Hall, an adjunct of an organization called A Place at the Table. This all-volunteer group provides free nutritious meals to homeless members of our community and anyone else in need of a hot meal and companionship, along with free health supplies, clothing and other necessities. A large and important part of what the volunteers do is interact with the people who attend. The purpose is to let people know that along with nourishing meals on Tuesdays and Thursdays there are people who do care; pointing the attendees toward other free services is part of the interaction but I sensed that what they were doing was nothing more or less than being a kind person who is ready to lend an ear and be a sounding board.
There were about 60 or so members of the community in the room and I learned some valuable lessons. The first was - I need to reassess what I thought a homeless person looked like. There were certainly a few who fit my pre-conceived ideas, wearing threadbare clothing that was inadequate for the brisk fall weather. But there were others whose clothing and overall looks were “normal,” whatever that really means. And there were also a few elderly people. One of the volunteers told me they were housed but had very little social interaction and no family nearby. Simply put, they were lonely. And no one should be lonely, especially in their twilight years. They came purely for the chance to make personal connections and to know that there are people who care about them.
I played mostly instrumental arrangements of well-known songs, being careful to never demand attention through volume. I knew immediately that my job was to enhance the ambiance; it was definitely not a performance in the traditional sense. And when I was through, a few of the attendees made a point of telling me how much they enjoyed my playing and thanked me for being there.
I can’t recall ever being so happy about playing for people. What I hope I accomplished was adding an element of comfort to people who have very little of that in their lives. Music has that power and it felt so good to be able to deliver it.
That night as I laid in bed I thought: Maybe, just maybe one key to healing the severe divisions in our country needs to start with making the effort to truly understand the depth of the challenges people are facing on a totally personal level. That starts with pushing back the vitriol and anger and disappointment that we have been bombarded with. This does not mean we should abandon our sense of right and wrong or that we should refrain from doing what we can to swing the pendulum back to the center - where it belongs.
All I know for sure is that music can help with that. I know this because on a small, personal level, I witnessed it at St. Barnabas. And I dearly hope that I can make my small contribution again.
Peace & good music,
Gene
On a personal level, since November 5 I have been feeling an incredible weight on my soul and I know I’m not alone in that. My friends and I are left to console each other but in this case I think for most of us that consolation, while appreciated only offers a brief respite. Reality - that is the definition and name of the weight.
But one week later, something happened to give me a glimmer of hope. I had been asked some time ago to play during a weekly event here in town called Music at the Table at St. Barnabas Church and held in their Great Hall, an adjunct of an organization called A Place at the Table. This all-volunteer group provides free nutritious meals to homeless members of our community and anyone else in need of a hot meal and companionship, along with free health supplies, clothing and other necessities. A large and important part of what the volunteers do is interact with the people who attend. The purpose is to let people know that along with nourishing meals on Tuesdays and Thursdays there are people who do care; pointing the attendees toward other free services is part of the interaction but I sensed that what they were doing was nothing more or less than being a kind person who is ready to lend an ear and be a sounding board.
There were about 60 or so members of the community in the room and I learned some valuable lessons. The first was - I need to reassess what I thought a homeless person looked like. There were certainly a few who fit my pre-conceived ideas, wearing threadbare clothing that was inadequate for the brisk fall weather. But there were others whose clothing and overall looks were “normal,” whatever that really means. And there were also a few elderly people. One of the volunteers told me they were housed but had very little social interaction and no family nearby. Simply put, they were lonely. And no one should be lonely, especially in their twilight years. They came purely for the chance to make personal connections and to know that there are people who care about them.
I played mostly instrumental arrangements of well-known songs, being careful to never demand attention through volume. I knew immediately that my job was to enhance the ambiance; it was definitely not a performance in the traditional sense. And when I was through, a few of the attendees made a point of telling me how much they enjoyed my playing and thanked me for being there.
I can’t recall ever being so happy about playing for people. What I hope I accomplished was adding an element of comfort to people who have very little of that in their lives. Music has that power and it felt so good to be able to deliver it.
That night as I laid in bed I thought: Maybe, just maybe one key to healing the severe divisions in our country needs to start with making the effort to truly understand the depth of the challenges people are facing on a totally personal level. That starts with pushing back the vitriol and anger and disappointment that we have been bombarded with. This does not mean we should abandon our sense of right and wrong or that we should refrain from doing what we can to swing the pendulum back to the center - where it belongs.
All I know for sure is that music can help with that. I know this because on a small, personal level, I witnessed it at St. Barnabas. And I dearly hope that I can make my small contribution again.
Peace & good music,
Gene
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