The other day I did a volunteer show at a local old person’s day center. A guitarist I know works there, and that was handy, because he knew all the songs they would like. He warned me not to get too jazzy with my piano stylings — so I stayed pretty bland and inoffensive (at first, anyway). The staff put the lyrics up on a big board, and everyone sang along. They really sang, these old folks! Music gives us life.
Most of the audience were in their 80s and 90s, with a sprinkling of younger tykes in their fresh faced 70s or even younger. We played for one hour, then I talked a little bit with the audience. I was a bit of a novelty for them. One of the very oldest wanted me to come over and shake her hand, so I did. Pretty soon I was shaking the hands of everyone in the room. Men and women all wanted me. I was like Santa Claus. Some of their eyes teared up as I held their hands. One woman gripped my hand like a vice– surprising strength– and shook it back and forth as she sang me an up-tempo song I couldn’t understand (my Japanese isn’t quite there yet), then blew me a kiss. One pulled me over, then gestured for a female nurse I didn’t know to come over, and pointed at her belly, and proudly said “She’s pregnant.”
I don’t think there is any special magic to me that got these kind of strong and sometimes childlike reactions. It’s nice to think I am particularly good or virtuous, but that’s just not it. I bet it’s the same anytime anyone from outside comes in and does a similar kind of activity with them. I think it’s just that some of these old folks are starving. The only thing I can think of that would make me cry from a handshake with a complete stranger is if I just didn’t get enough handshakes.
I’m not sure whose fault it is, exactly. It’s easy to blame it on the culture which worships youth, but then again, “culture” is a gestalt, not really decided by anyone in particular. In a way, if there’s a youth culture which ignores old people, the old people are the ones who helped to put it in place. Few of us like to think about getting old, and surely they were no exception back before suddenly they were.
My grandfather died about five years ago. A couple of years before he died, due to problems with mobility and internal juiciness (I think that’s the technical term, anyhow), he had to start wearing a diaper again. He had an “accident” once while I was visiting with family. He was a very taciturn man, so what he said to me in the aftermath got branded into my memory. “It sucks getting old,” he said.
He was right, of course. And let’s not also forget that age needn’t even come into play for life to suck and then you die. But then again, if you spin it right, this fact can be a genuine source of strength.
(EDIT: That last link should have been this one. However, the one I put by mistake is also excellent.)
Here’s the great Ben Webster and Teddy Wilson playing the jazz standard “Old Folks”. Ben Webster is crying as he plays because he had just learned that his mentor Johnny Hodges was dead. It’s an extraordinary moment to have actually ended up on film.
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