Many moons ago, I was involved in an outreach group, called The Holiday Project. The mission was simple: go out and spend time with those who, during the holidays, would often not get many or anyone visiting them: shut-ins, folks incarcerated at local gaols, folks in nursing homes. Given I play guitar, I was a natural fit for the group, so this bunny was billeted off to a local nursing home, during Xmas season.
After we'd gone around and visited folks on the multiple floors and were about to leave, I was approached by a nurse's aid, who told me that the "old lady" down the hall wished to hear me sing one more song. I said, "Sure. What's her name?"
I did this to be polite, to be gentlemanly to whomever had asked me to perform. The nurse's aid looked at her chart, and with not a glimmer of recognition for *her*, she said, "Antonia Brico." I about fell over...
Dr. Brico had been Judy Collin's piano teacher, when Judy lived in Denver (my hometown)and given I'd long been a fan of Judy's (what can say...I'm an old *folkie*), and a student of music in general, I knew *damned* well who Dr. Brico was..and nearly sh*t my knickers!! I normally do not suffer from performance anxiety but in this case, I certainly did!
So, I stumble into Dr. Brico's room (there is/was NO freakin' way I can/could just call her 'Antonia') and ther she is, sitting in a wheelchair, glower upon her face; she said to me , ina deep raspy voice, "I liked your voice. Sing me another song."
Gah-UUUULP! I managed to croak out some other old Xmas standard, and when I was done, she said, "Nice voice, Thanks.", and turned to look out the window.
She died shortly thereafter--hopefully not as of any resultant injury to her auditory system! It's likely the closest this old folk singer will EVER get to a master of music in this lifetime!
Eli Rabett, a not quite failed professorial techno-bunny who finally handed in the keys and retired from his wanna be research university. The students continue to be naive but great people and the administrators continue to vary day-to-day between homicidal and delusional without Eli's help. Eli notices from recent political developments that this behavior is not limited to administrators. His colleagues retain their curious inability to see the holes that they dig for themselves. Prof. Rabett is thankful that they, or at least some of them occasionally heeded his pointing out the implications of the various enthusiasms that rattle around the department and school. Ms. Rabett is thankful that Prof. Rabett occasionally heeds her pointing out that he is nuts.
3 comments:
Her non-spiritual side, FTW.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Jn90y9H9S4
Call me Singin' Bunny...;)
6 degrees of separation...
Many moons ago, I was involved in an outreach group, called The Holiday Project. The mission was simple: go out and spend time with those who, during the holidays, would often not get many or anyone visiting them: shut-ins, folks incarcerated at local gaols, folks in nursing homes. Given I play guitar, I was a natural fit for the group, so this bunny was billeted off to a local nursing home, during Xmas season.
After we'd gone around and visited folks on the multiple floors and were about to leave, I was approached by a nurse's aid, who told me that the "old lady" down the hall wished to hear me sing one more song. I said, "Sure. What's her name?"
I did this to be polite, to be gentlemanly to whomever had asked me to perform. The nurse's aid looked at her chart, and with not a glimmer of recognition for *her*, she said, "Antonia Brico." I about fell over...
Dr. Brico had been Judy Collin's piano teacher, when Judy lived in Denver (my hometown)and given I'd long been a fan of Judy's (what can say...I'm an old *folkie*), and a student of music in general, I knew *damned* well who Dr. Brico was..and nearly sh*t my knickers!! I normally do not suffer from performance anxiety but in this case, I certainly did!
So, I stumble into Dr. Brico's room (there is/was NO freakin' way I can/could just call her 'Antonia') and ther she is, sitting in a wheelchair, glower upon her face; she said to me , ina deep raspy voice, "I liked your voice. Sing me another song."
Gah-UUUULP! I managed to croak out some other old Xmas standard, and when I was done, she said, "Nice voice, Thanks.", and turned to look out the window.
She died shortly thereafter--hopefully not as of any resultant injury to her auditory system! It's likely the closest this old folk singer will EVER get to a master of music in this lifetime!
:) - Eli
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