last week at work, one of my patients mentioned that his father, age 84, is a relatively famous blues musician who just returned from touring in europe.
what?
that is too cool. this guy is 60, and his dad is alive, and around, and making music? so, i coudn't help it- i had to ask if we could meet him, if we could go and hear him sing and play. my patient was elated- he immediately set up a time and a place.
so last night, zoe and i, went to a little blues venue and chilled to the beautiful music of 'eddie tigner and the chicken shack'. it was fabulous. my patient met us in the parking lot, in his granny walker, with a giant grin on his face when he saw us pull up.
"i didn't think you was comin'!"
"of course! we wouldn't miss it for anything."
zoe was of course, star struck and loving it. she danced and sang and shook to the music and met the whole band and left with a signed CD from eddie himself. my patient, his son, was thrilled, he sat on the seat of his walker and rocked out, playing 'air piano' and moving like he'd done this his whole life, as he probably had.
and i just sat there loving it and thankful. that barriers get erased, that we're all just people having fun together, as his dad went out for a smoke break with his 'More' brand cigarillos. he returned to play the song 'Georgia sweet georgia' this little 4 foot 11, 84 year old african american power house, with his 6' 4'' guitar player and his white drummer and bassist. i sat there and moved to that beat that gets in you, and loved all of it, the sounds, the smiles and the history. i kept looking at his old hands as they slid over that keyboard with that glitzy diamond ring and a knowledge of those keys that demanded no sheet music, those hands played from the past, as his eyes followed the crowd. i thought about his hands and his eyes and what he'd seen in his sweet georgia over the past 60 years that he's been playing music. and i loved the south in a way that i hadn't before. i loved the transformation and the way music can tell a sweet, sad story. the way the notes can talk beyond the words themselves, and i understood why songs can hold so much, how they can stroke the soul.
i don't know who was happier, me, zoe or my patient.
but it was a night we won't forget.
what?
that is too cool. this guy is 60, and his dad is alive, and around, and making music? so, i coudn't help it- i had to ask if we could meet him, if we could go and hear him sing and play. my patient was elated- he immediately set up a time and a place.
so last night, zoe and i, went to a little blues venue and chilled to the beautiful music of 'eddie tigner and the chicken shack'. it was fabulous. my patient met us in the parking lot, in his granny walker, with a giant grin on his face when he saw us pull up.
"i didn't think you was comin'!"
"of course! we wouldn't miss it for anything."
zoe was of course, star struck and loving it. she danced and sang and shook to the music and met the whole band and left with a signed CD from eddie himself. my patient, his son, was thrilled, he sat on the seat of his walker and rocked out, playing 'air piano' and moving like he'd done this his whole life, as he probably had.
and i just sat there loving it and thankful. that barriers get erased, that we're all just people having fun together, as his dad went out for a smoke break with his 'More' brand cigarillos. he returned to play the song 'Georgia sweet georgia' this little 4 foot 11, 84 year old african american power house, with his 6' 4'' guitar player and his white drummer and bassist. i sat there and moved to that beat that gets in you, and loved all of it, the sounds, the smiles and the history. i kept looking at his old hands as they slid over that keyboard with that glitzy diamond ring and a knowledge of those keys that demanded no sheet music, those hands played from the past, as his eyes followed the crowd. i thought about his hands and his eyes and what he'd seen in his sweet georgia over the past 60 years that he's been playing music. and i loved the south in a way that i hadn't before. i loved the transformation and the way music can tell a sweet, sad story. the way the notes can talk beyond the words themselves, and i understood why songs can hold so much, how they can stroke the soul.
i don't know who was happier, me, zoe or my patient.
but it was a night we won't forget.
4 comments:
What a rad experience! Zoe is the best. Heart her so.
xo, KM
we should go one thurdsay night- it was great!
xoxo
k
Get out! Sooo cool. I want to see blues w/ you and zoe!
Xo
rose- what is your last name- i'm stuck! have we met?
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