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This evening, I had the privilege of playing for my sweet, 92-year-old grandmother and the other residents in the dining hall of the assisted living/skilled nursing facility where she lives during dinner.
She has struggled to remember names and faces for a while, so it’s always tough to visit. I know it’s all in there because there is recognition in her eyes, but her thoughts are clouded.
I played all standards out of my edition of the Real Book because I figured this crowd would have a connection and appreciation for that era. Turns out that was a good move because as I played and looked around the room I saw heads moving, people swaying, people snapping, and I heard people humming along with me.
At one point, after playing the tune “My Way”, something cool happened. My grandmother who has not called me by name in over a year looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Oh Michael, your grandfather and I used to dance to that song.”
Music heals. Music is meaningful. Music is powerful.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
-Michael