A little Reggae never hurt anyone

Well, no one answered the question I asked in my last post.
Too bad for you, it could have been worth something.
Look for the very small writing under the post title.

Now, hit the play button and listen to a little reggae while you read.
It won't hurt a bit. You can trust me.


Today, I had two preschool music groups in the morning  (both first-timers so I had no idea what to expect), an elderly group in the early afternoon and then six piano lessons in quick succession. It was one of those days where I wake up and see the day looming ahead of me and wonder what the heck I have done to myself.
Now, from the declining end of the day, I can look back and see how good it was.

The first preschool group was adorable, if slightly rag-tag. I love how music creates a container for the energy of little children. Even in a big open area, a dozen children will sit in a circle with me and it will feel like our very own intimate space. We sang Christmas carols and played jingle bells and generally had a whale of a time.

The next group was a freebie for the Cultural Center. I am quite dismayed by their lack of marketing, but there were three children with various grown-ups and we had an entertaining time. Hopefully, word will spread and I will have a group come January.

Some lighter moments from the memory care facility:

I was wearing jeans and a white camisole under a blue sweater. As I was wandering the room, playing my guitar, one old dear kept motioning to me, pointing to my behind. I thought maybe there was a thread or something that was bothering her, so I positioned my derrier in front of her reaching hands.
But no.
She didn't like my camisole hanging beneath my sweater.
So I tucked it up underneath and she was perfectly happy.
Oh.
Okay.
Maybe a girl of my vintage shouldn't be wearing things hanging out from beneath my sweaters anyway.

Then, after we finished a rousing rendition of Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen, sweet R., who usually sleeps through most of the session, looked up at me with wide-awake eyes and said What trouble have you seen? 
Wow.
I didn't want to share my worst troubles with her, way too complicated, so I told her how my Dad died when I was twenty and how I miss him.
Oh, that's so sad, she said, her eyes misting over.
And what troubles have you seen? I asked.
She thought for a moment and told me her grandpa died.
I love it when music awakens the sensibilities of my elderly clients.

Piano lessons were likewise very sweet today. We're getting ready for a Christmas recital at the care home and the kids love their Christmas songs. One little boy, who has been, shall we say, a little reluctant, has taken a shine to Jingle Bells. He did a magnificent job of playing it today and so I high-fived him when we finished.
I knew I was good, he said, beaming.
So we played it again while his sisters accompanied us on the guiros.
Awesome.

All things shall perish from under the sky.
Music alone shall live, music alone shall live,
Music alone shall live, never to die.