Eldergarten for Alzheimer's Patients

Bill Tapia is 103 years young, and still plays the ukulele.

Late this morning I packed my ukulele and harmonicas into my car and drove into town to sing for the Catholic Charities’ Alzheimer's group. 

I found a room filled with a group of about twenty people, a mixture of Alzheimer’s patients and volunteer caregivers, seated in chairs arranged in a "U."  

One lonely-looking empty chair—my stage—stood by itself in the middle of the open part of the U. 

It looked, at first, as if it would be a tough audience. The patients' eyes were, how shall I say this, vacant?  Many of them sat staring into their laps; I couldn't even see their eyes. Some of the volunteers avoided eye contact with me. The person who invited me to come warned them not to expect too much—I'm a kindergarten teacher, not a musician/performer.

I've learned to fight fire with fire. Go straight at the fear. “No, problem,” I told myself. “I’m a kindergarten teacher." There aren't many audiences tougher than the one I usually sing for. I unpacked my gear, introduced myself, and launched off into about 45 minutes of singing, playing ukulele, and howlin’ out tunes on the harmonica. Kids songs, spirituals, Tin Pan Alley songs, and, of course, a Hank Williams tune or two.

It turned out that songs that work for short-attention-span kindergartners are perfect, perfect! for Alzheimer’s patients. Songs aimed at the heart with simple words, great melodies, and lots of repetition. 

Before long the patients and their caregivers came to life, like droopy houseplants given the water they need to stop slouching. They joined in singing, clapping and stomping their feet. 

We had a great time. Some patients danced! By the time we got to “If You’re Happy and You Know It” my failing voice was almost lost in the crowd. In the third verse the audience is supposed to shout “Hooray!” and throw a fist into the air. They did better than I ever thought they would. They were shouting, "HOORAY!!" as loudly as any roomful of five year olds. 

Music works magic. You would not have guessed that anyone in this room was touched by senility. Too many smiles. Too much music. Too much magic.

I’m coming back in two weeks for an encore performance.

West County Ukulele Club

Last Friday my ukulele club sang a set of songs at our town's monthly sing along night at the Sebastopol Community Center. The night's theme was Country Music.

This was the occasion of my first lead vocal, not counting singing in kindergarten class for five year olds.

My wife was there to videotape it so I might share it here. With apologies for my harmonica "work" in the instrumental break. I just started playing harmonica a little bit ago. No worries. With time, I'll improve.

Times Are Gettin' Hard

Not long ago, I posted a video of Taimane Gardner  showing an exotic and mysterious side of the ukulele.

Here is another side of the ukulele showing a more subdued mood. It features my pal, Todd,  who posted this on YouTube a month or so ago. He sings an old folk song called "Times Are Gettin' Hard." Its mood and message fit these times we find ourselves in right now....

I'll Bet You Like This

Readers of Mindful Heart are well aware of my increasing fondness for the ukulele. I know the ukulele to be a simple and humble instrument perfect to put into the hands of young children who want to make their first music. That's what I'm doing every day at work.

It's also a great instrument for groups of amateurs to play together. I spend most Thursday evenings playing with friends. That's what I did last night. We get high just singing.

But the ukulele can be even more than that.

She has a wild, exotic side as well.

Grab a pair of headphones. Set aside six minutes.

You won't want to be interrupted:

Love is Something

Here's the reading taken from A Year With Rumi by Coleman Barks for March 15.

Before death takes away what you are given, give away what there is to give.

No dead person grieves for his death. He mourns only what he didn’t do. Why did I wait? Why did I not...? Why did I neglect to?

I cannot think of better advice to send. I hope you like it. May you stay in your infinity.

Peace.

—Rumi

Rumi’s message is one I try to remember and pass along.

I am grateful to teach kindergarten where I am expected to promote generosity and sharing. I teach these by my example and in many other ways including singing songs, none better than this little gem by Malvina Reynolds, “Love is Something.”

She sings her song with the panache of someone who knows homespun music beats manufactured music every time:






I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing and singing along with Malvina Reynolds when I was a student at UC Berkeley many years ago. The song has worn well.

Potent Mood Lifter

I was playing my ukulele this morning as my wife departed for a day of door-to-door re-election campaigning.

She said, “That is such a happy instrument! I love that ukulele!”

I love my uke, too. It is a potent mood lifter.

When I feel the least bit blue, I grab a ukulele, tune it, strum, and sing out. By some divine magic the ukulele lifts up my spirits and also the spirits of everyone within earshot, even bugs.

Last weekend one of my ukebuds and I carpooled down to San Francisco to add our voices to an immense chorus of ukesters aiming happily to sing our place into the Guinness Book of World Records as the largest group of ukulele players ever assembled.

We met many new ukulele friends, all of them happy, and none of them, as far as I could tell, a whole lot better than us——a little bit above beginner.

We saw the movie “The Mighty Uke” and strummed together and sang. Here’s a picture of me taken by Andy Andrews who is one of the “stars” of the movie and of the ukulele movement. 

Alas, the world record remains unbroken, but we went home happier than we came. Ukuleles do that.

The ukulele was born more than 140 years ago in the Kingdom of Hawaii as it fell into the strengthening clutches of the U.S. Empire. The ukulele surely helped the Hawaiians cope with depression.

Now the ukulele is born again, growing in popularity as steeply as the United States descends in its manufacturing sector—weaponry of mass destruction excepted. (I, for one, am deeply ashamed to say this, but we Americans can’t crow about our health care system, our public transportation system, our care for the homeless, or our public education, but we got some really fancy weapons of mass destruction, and we've used them before.)

As we languish in our moribund empire, the ukulele’s resurgent popularity is surely an echo of its original birth in Hawaii.

We better sing some songs about peace!

Here’s one of my uke buds singing a classic uke tune.

Here’s a link to a story about our Adventure in San Francisco

Link to Sarah’s campaign

WMD

W   Wonderful

M   Musical

D    Diversion

Really. 


There's more HERE

Share the Joy

Not long ago, I was at a lecture about sustainable farming. The speaker pointed out, perhaps somewhat indelicately,

“You’ve heard people say, you are what you eat. That’s not quite right. You are what you don’t defecate.”

That night I became keenly aware that our bodies have the wisdom to get rid of useless, harmful stuff. It's what they do. When we eat junk food and the like, our bodies put the junk in the toilet.  Our bodies are so wise. We must take care of them so they work as they're meant to work.

But what about our feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness?

We must deal with more than toxic “food” for the body. We must also rid ourselves of toxic material for the mind: harmful images, thoughts, music, and so on. Much of it will come via the Internet, television, and the radio.

How do we our detoxify this stuff? At what cost?

My guess is that we disassemble much of it in our dreams. We forget stuff, too. If we have a place in our homes for a meditation practice, perhaps it serves the heart much as the bathroom serves the body.

As a blogger, I’ve come to appreciate more and more the importance of lifting up the spirits of my readers. Blog friends have helped me learn this.

We have the responsibility to share the good, to, as steven at golden fish said in a comment on this blog recently, to “bring the greatest goodness i can into this world in whatever time i am given.”

Thich Nhat Hahn writes:

Writing is a deep practice. Even before we begin writing, during whatever we are doing—gardening or sweeping the floor—our book or essay is being written deep in our consciousness. To write a book, we must write with our whole life, not just during the moments when we are sitting at our desk. When writing a book or an article, we know that our words will affect many other people. We do not have the right just to express our own suffering if it brings suffering to others. Many books, poems, and songs take away our faith in life. You people today curl up in bed with their walkmen [iPods today] and listen to unwholesome music, songs that water seed of great sadness and agitation in them. when we practice Right View and Right Thinking, we will put all of our tapes and CDs that water only seeds of anguish into a box and not listen to them anymore. Filmmakers, musicians, and writers need to practice Right speech to help our society move again in the direction of peace, joy, and faith in the future.

—Thich Nhat Hahn,  The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, (Parallax Press, 1998) pg 83-84

Bobby McFerrin lifts spirits in this clip of Ave Maria. It sure lifted my spirits this rainy Sunday morning. If you've got four and a half minutes to cheer up your heart, I invite you to share the joy.

Teachers Touch Tomorrow

I took a walk this afternoon and decided to post an email I got a week ago.

My purpose in writing this post is to encourage anyone who might be considering teaching as a career. Surely anyone who thinks about teaching as a life's work is going to run into a flurry of uninvited discouraging comments.

I staggered through plenty of discouragement when I was chose to be a teacher, and that was a LONG time ago.

There is no need for me to repeat all the reasons why teaching is a tough job. I know it's tough. And yes, if after twenty years of teaching, your kids want to go to college, you'll probably end up having to work a second job or to start a moonlight business. (I'm speaking, here, from personal experience.)

Teaching, like any art, is a calling. Like any art, teaching has intrinsic rewards. You might just touch the future.

For example, this email*, printed below. It's talking about a CD that I give as a gift over the winter holiday break, a disc that includes the Deeply Beautiful song I posted yesterday.

Hi Dan:

I just wanted to say thank you so much for the CD that you gave to the kids at Christmas time. You deserve to know how much love and happiness it has brought to our family.  It started with me and the kids rocking out to it on Saturday mornings. Next it became a cornerstone to our drives to and from school. It never failed to change the low energy on the way to and from school. I absolutely loved that. Later, it became captive to my mom in her car…. And she was very reluctant to give it up. Now, that I have it back….. I have become addicted to repeating the songs over and over and over, yes, even when I’m riding solo.

It’s my new Bob Marley…. Really. The kids have quickly caught on to my addiction, and they are loving it as much as I. I’ve been struggling with my grandfather who’s been very sick in San Diego. Many of my Tuesday’s lately  have been catching a 5 AM plane down there to get a 4 PM flight back in order to make it back for my 6 PM class.  Your CD reminds me to keep my energy up, and to not let me own struggles affect the energy of others – especially my kids.

Can’t tell you enough, how many times it has been your CD that has kept it all in perspective for me.  Not just your CD, but my favorite part of my day is walking into your classroom with you and your guitar. It melts me to the ground when I hear you sing the song,  This Little Light of Mine….. it was my grandmother’s favorite.

My daughter and I have many, many great memories singing Bob Marley’s song, Three Little Birds together. When you sing that song it takes her to a very happy place. Last summer we would share my iPod to that song as we walked across campus, singing at the top of our lungs while no-one else could hear the music…. Just us.

Anyhow, sometimes we do things our way, it’s just part of who we are. And we have no idea how much it means or affects others. So I just wanted you to know how much we cherish all the good, happiness and love that you offer to everyone.

If anything was learned in Kindergarten, that is the most valuable lessons I think that anyone can learn. And by starting school with that great energy, I know that S. will carry through her lifetime.

Thank you for being such an amazing person.

C.

 *edited slightly to preserve the anonymity of its author

Singing You're Deeply Beautiful

Right now I’m on spring break from teaching kindergarten. I sing a lot at work.

I'm missing my friend, Walter, and missing him made me realize that I’m also missing singing.

So I got out my guitar this morning. I’m singing for you, my bloggy buds.

Shameless Ham

I admit it. I'm a shameless ham.

I guess it's okay--I'm a kindergarten teacher.



More confessions: I added the applause.

Native American Flute

It's a good idea for teachers to be actively engaged as learners.

Learning something new keeps me connected, vulnerable, on the edge—

So before the summer ends I choose something brand new to bring into my teaching practice. I want my students to see people produce music, not just consume it. That's a good lesson generally for us Americans.

This year I decided to learn to play the Native American Flute after I heard Stan Goldberg play at a book signing a couple of weeks ago. Stan plays for the dying as part of his hospice volunteer work. I want to play for the kids in kindergarten.

I surfed online, ordered one, and it came in the mail the other day. After a short time, here's how I sound...and I think it's good enough. If you've got 30 seconds, you can listen in here:

The Sun Kings

Marc, Richard, Brenda, and I went yesterday afternoon to see a Beatles cover band called The Sun Kings. There are 5 members in the band; together they sound just like the fab four, John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

Marc is a fan. Earlier he had encouraged me to come to one of their performances. He told me that they get so close to the sound of the Beatles that if you close your eyes, you'll think you're listening to their recordings.

The Sun Kings set began with early material and progressed to Abbey Road. When they began playing, I thought that they must be lip syncing. The audio-illusion amazed me with its detailed accuracy. I kept my eyes open to see if they were actually making the music I was hearing. It was that close. As the concert went on, I began to be able to distinguish subtle differences between the original Beatles and The Sun Kings.

They made no effort to look like the Beatles. No need—they SOUND like them.



If you're a San Francisco Bay area resident and enjoy the music of the Beatles, check them out. I told Sarah about them, and she wants to come along to the next concert. They're playing up our way on August 4 in Rio Nido.

The Violinist

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up, to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year-old boy. His mother tugged him along—hurried, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

Who is he?

The violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with his 1713 Stradivarius violin worth 3.5 million dollars. Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100 each.

Healdsburg Jazz Festival

Sarah and I went with friends Richard and Brenda to the Healdsburg Jazz Festival to take in an afternoon of Brazilian Samba music. It was a very pleasant afternoon—warm and lazy. We packed a sharable picnic lunch.

The emcee was KCSM's Latin Jazz host, Jesse Chuy Varela. It turns out our seats were right behind his, so I got to meet him. It was a thrill for me because I've been listening to—and enjoying—his Latin Jazz program for a long time. I'm particularly fond of Latin Jazz, ever since I first developed a taste for music on my own. The first album I ever bought was titled "Getz/Gilberto" a black album with an abstract modern orange painting on it. It featured the bossa nova sounds of Antonio Carlos Jobim and Joao Gilberto. Great music that is still played today.

Jesse Chuy Varela introducing the first act of the afternoon.


Me, Jesse, and Sarah.