Musician Malcolm Kogut has been tickling the ivories since he was 14 and won the NPM DMMD Musician of the Year award in 99. He has CDs along with many published books. Malcolm played in the pit for many Broadway touring shows. When away from the keyboard, he loves exploring the nooks, crannies and arresting beauty of the Adirondack Mountains, battling gravity on the ski slopes and roller coasters.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Buxtehude's Daughter, a Cantata
Buxtehude's Daughter is a spoof cantata written by Tom Savoy and Byron Nilsson about the true story of Buxtehude, his daughter and Bach. In October of 1705, Bach, at the age of 20, secured a one month leave to go hear a musician of considerable reputation. Bach proceeded to walk over 250 miles from Arnstadt to Lubeck to hear the famed Buxtehude perform one of his weekly recitals and, was so impressed that he forgot to go home and he stayed for four more months, greatly offending his superiors at his home church.
The aging Buxtehude was retiring and seeking someone to take over his directing position at the Marienkirche. The catch was that Buxtehude would only offer the job to the applicant who would marry his daughter. She was not young (over the hill at 30), not pretty, and perhaps did not posses much of a personality. At any rate, her father was having difficulty marrying her off. Other famed applicants for the position included Handel and Mattheson but the thought of marrying the daughter was too high a price to pay. Apparently, when sacrificing for your art, there are certain sacrifices that are too costly. The practice of offering a daughter as part of the "benefits package" was not uncommon in those days as Buxtehude himself married the daughter of Franz Tunder, his predecessor.
When Bach eventually returned to his home church in Arnstadt, fireworks ensued. The "minutes" of a meeting to which Bach was called to explain himself still exist today. Bach was accused of "making music" with a "stranger lady" and he was even accused of inviting her up into the choir loft. This was a time when women weren't allowed to sing in the choir and it was a serious breech of etiquette to make music with one. What would the congregation think? Not that church people are ever prone to gossip.
Buxtehude did eventually find a successor and son in law; Johann Christian Schieferdecker won the position. He was a little-known composer who was an accompanist and composer at the Hamburg opera. Schieferdecker also served as Buxtehude’s assistant shortly before the master died.
The Musicians of Ma'alwyck;
Join us for a wonderful afternoon of delightful, funny songs with Byron Nilsson, Amy Prothro and Malcolm Kogut, paired with the spoof cantata Buxtehude's Daughter and then enjoy a delicious champagne dessert buffet generously prepared and donated by Randy Rosette. Songs of Flanders & Swann, Stephen Sondheim, Noel Coward and others followed by Tom Savoy's and Nilsson's hysterical take on the surprise requirement attached to accepting the position as Buxtehude's successor. Musicians of Ma'alwyck and Byron Nilsson and friends join together to present Songs to Amuse, Sunday, October 5th at 2pm. First Unitarian Universalist Society in Albany hosts us in this special fundraiser. An afternoon not to be missed and a great way to support Musicians of Ma'alwyck. Tickets are $35 per person and available at rwww.musiciansofmaalwyck.org
Friday, September 19, 2014
Simple Improvisational Device for Organists
Here is a short lesson I created for church organists who on occasion may be desirous to employ a simple re-harmonization device without getting too carried away. I apologize for the little rant in the beginning of the video about organists getting in the way of the congregation. I too am a frequent offender of this practice. It is part of the organist ego. The devil makes us do it. Bach's congregation had the same plaint.
This device is simple. Whenever the melody is on the third tone of a chord, or you change the chord to make that note the third, leave the melody where it is but raise the chord up half a step to it's minor equivalent, then drop it down to its dominant seventh. Keep the voicing open as that will leave a lot of room for inner linear movement and a lot of room other chordal substitutions and leading. If you don't know what that means, that is okay, listen to your ear. It knows.
I often throw something like this in toward the the end of a verse to signal to the congregation that I am about to do something such as a key change or interlude. I usually only throw in interludes when the liturgical movement calls for it because the people on the dais need more time to get where they're going or to do what they're doing. If a choir is processing and they just hit the stairs to the balcony, I may do the same thing.
Personally, if I am pew-side of a church, I like to sing the harmony to the hymns and when the organist doesn't play what's on the page it renders me mute. Organists need to be cognizant of the text, too. I remember being at a music convention for Pastoral Musicians and on the fifth verse of a hymn, the text stated something about not toiling or mourning for, the gentle presence of God will carry you through the tough times. I thought it ironic that the organist was re-harmonizing, ratcheting up the crescendo pedal and tossing out trite-trumpet-triplets all as we were singing words such as "quiet" and "gentle."
Read your texts, love your people, help them to sing, hold their hand if necessary. Think of the church in the theater model; the congregants are the actors, God is the audience and you are the prompter. Prompt, don't hijack.
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Thursday, September 11, 2014
Bad Piano Challenge
Many of us have played with despair on some pretty bad pianos which are frequently found in churches, schools, theaters, bars, restaurants and college practice rooms. I'd like to encourage or challenge everyone to share a video celebrating some of the clunkers you've had the challenge to play.
This sleeping beauty which brought a certain dimension of challenge was found in the basement of a church in upstate NY. I was able to coax these two tunes our of her. She is an old Knabe with uneven action and has the gift of sometimes playing two tones with one hammer.
Ageism and Theism, Together
This blog entry will certainly rile up some of my more zealous Christian friends but, please don't read this as an attack on religion but, an exploration on how Ageism and Theism go hand in hand. It wouldn't be the first time my writing or dry sense of humor got me in trouble. I was on an interview once and the name of my first organ teacher came up. I commented how I hated him, fully expecting someone on the interview committee to ask why. They moved on, thinking that I actually hated him. In truth, he was the best teach I ever had because he challenged me and made me work my lazy bumper off. I am still learning from his lessons 30 years later. I didn't get the job - I hate them . . . They didn't pay very well, anyway.
We are currently living in the time/space between the current Age of Pisces and the forthcoming Age: the Age of Aquarius. To understand an Age, we have to go back and look at both history and science.
There are twelve Ages which many of us know as the Zodiac Signs (one for each constellation of the zodiac). Each Age lasts approximately 2,160 years. All twelve Ages in succession are known as The Great year which lasts about 26,000 of our calendar years. The earth actually spins in a gyrating motion that changes very slowly the direction of the polar axis (think of a toy top that wobbles as it spins). The earth makes a full circle in the 26,000 years which is known as the Precession. Many astrologers call this the “Great Polar Cycle” which encompasses 25,868 years as the North Pole aligns successively to a series of stars or constellations (Zodiac Signs).
Those of you old enough to know what a phonographic record is, think of the precession as a single record album with 25,000 grooves. Every 2,000 grooves is a new song. The whole record is the precession and every song is an age, each flowing seamlessly into one another. Some Ages are thought to be a little longer or shorter than others but at this point I'm not sure if anyone knows for sure. Currently, for the next 300 years or so, we are in-between two Ages. The earliest recorded Age for man is the Age of Leo, so, let's start there.
The Age of Leo; Approximately 11000 B.C. - 8000 B.C.
Around this time the snow of the Ice Age begins to melt and the global climate begins to warm up. During this time humans began worshiping the Sun, the ruler of the fire sign, Leo; because obviously a god was melting all that ice. Culturally there were dozens of Sun-Gods at this time as the planet began to get warmer and wetter. This period was also known as the Stone Age.
The Age of Cancer; approximately 8000 B.C. – 6500 B.C.
From the fire sign of Leo to the water sign of Cancer there were floods! Where do you think all that ice went? Around 8000 B.C. is thought to be the time when the great floods that are mentioned in almost every major culture occurred. Sun-worship was replaced by Moon-worship as many cultures became aware of how the Moon affected the rising and falling of the water or tides. The sign Cancer was associated with the archetype of the Great Mother, which deals with the womb, bearing, birthing, nurturing, protecting, and domestic life. During this time animals began to be domesticated. The Great Mother was feared during this age and even today, we still fear her. We call her Mother Nature as she can be both life giving and relentlessly destructive in the form of hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods or drought.
Around the end of this Age we domesticated many animals (in part, thanks to Noah who saved them from the flood), invented the wheel, weaving, working with metal and increased our survival skills and began to fear Mother Nature less and less as we were better able to protect ourselves from her wrath, giving birth to intellectualism.
The Age of Gemini, Approximately 6500 B.C. - 3750 B.C.
Humans begin writing and drawing and discover the god of Mercury or Hermes. In Greek mythology, these were the gods of communication. The world began to flourish with communication, language (babble) and knowledge. As languages developed, so did oral traditions. It is believed that though the first books of the Old Testament were not written down until around 1000 B.C. at the time of Solomon, the oral traditions of creation stories like The Garden of Eden were actually created during the Age of Gemini. Gemini also gave us the consciousness of duality: The Garden of Eden and the Tree of Knowledge containing the duality of Good and Evil, Life and Death, Adam and Eve - duality of sexes, choice and consequences, rational and irrational. In this Age, God and Nature were being separated and we became farming communities rather than nomads. We also began building places of worship.
The Age of Taurus; approximately 4000B.C-1800 B.C.
The symbol of Taurus is a lot of bull. Cities began to spring up. The sign of Taurus is associated with agriculture, money, banking, law, real estate and property and all matters dealing with ownership.
Mortal man wishing to preserve order created god-like figures dispensing cruel justice and we found ourselves worshiping a number of bull gods. Apis, who presided over the underworld. Ra, the Bull of Heaven; Osiris the Bull of Earth; Nut, the Sky Goddess with cow’s ears; Hathor the Cow Goddess, crowned with horns; Bulchis the Bull of Thebes; Poseidon, Bull of the Sea; Zeus, the Bull-ravisher of Europa who fled over the Taurus mountains; and,most notably, the Minotaur, which was the offspring of Poseidon’s white bull and Pasiphae, wife of King Minos on Crete.
The bull symbol (Golden Calf) was replaced in the next Age by Moses, the bull-slayer; and ushered in the Age of Aries and the Ram-God Yahweh.
The Age of Aries, Approximately 1800 B.C. - 360 AD
Humans began to consolidate their gods and monotheism was born. Aries is ruled by Mars, the God of war. During this Age, the Greeks gave us Homer, Hesiod, Achilles, Hercules, Jason (who sought the Golden Fleece!), Theseus (a bona-fide bull-slayer!), Mithras who is depicted in statues as plunging a dagger into a bull and, Odysseus. Also Alexander the Great who, inspired by Homer, conquered most of the known world during this Age.
Moses did much more than just blow a ram's horn and liberate his people from Egypt. In condemning the worship of the golden calf (Taurus), he symbolically declared a new age had begun. An age that needed something to guide humanity: The Ten Commandments.
The Age of Aries also brought us the great teachings of Lao Tzu, Confucius, Gautama Buddha, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, opening the door for the next Age to enter.
The Age of Pisces; approximately 360 A.D. – 2400 A.D
The symbol for Pisces is the fish and this Age brought us Jesus. Jesus Christ taught new laws to govern our development as human beings and at the heart of his teachings was the idea that we should seek to love each other, we should love our enemy, and turn the other cheek, he taught us that we were one (a Piscean theme) and our enemy is simply a mirror of ourselves. To hate someone else, then, is to hate yourself.
It is interesting that many fundamentalist Christians claim to be followers of Jesus–the great teacher of forgiveness and compassion, but find it more productive to judge, condemn, hate, and try to convert others. Christ taught that all one needed was the inner church (Soul). The Kingdom of Heaven is not over there, not up there, not under there but, in us and around us. If only we could open our eyes and see it. Maybe in the next Age we will.
The Pisces Age unleashed some the most devastating wars and conflict in the history of man such as witch hunts, the Crusades, the Inquisition, the never ending conflict between Muslims and Christians, nuclear bombs, world wars and so much more, all under the banner of Christianity. The world became a dangerous place, not because of those who did evil, but because of those who looked on and did nothing.
This is the age that when someone breaks a law, we lock them up in places where kindness is rare and considered weak. Wouldn’t it seem more reasonable to put law breakers in a place which cherishes kindness, reminds them of how important it is and affords them opportunities to develop and express it?
Toward the end of the Age of Pisces, we see social activism begin to take hold (especially during the 1960's). Concern for the planet and all living creatures, humanitarianism and the struggle for the healing of wounds and division. Death leading to rebirth, acceptance, tolerance and awakening are all part of the theme. All this is leading into the next Age.
The Age of Aquarius; approximately 2400 A.D. – 4600 A.D
There isn't much to say about this Age since it is not here yet, but, this Age will be the Age of Enlightenment and the symbol is the Water Bearer. I find it interesting that the planet is being plagued by dramatic weather changes, warming, flooding, polar melting, tsunamis, increased hurricanes, tornadoes and devastating super storms.
Humans strive to avoid struggle and pain. We spend so much energy trying to avoid negativity and trying to create positivity, even if it’s synthetic, that we miss the point that each of us is like the movie character Indiana Jones. At the moment we may awaken to being here at all, we may say, “What’s life about?" At that moment we are the heroes of this classic, timeless, spiritual adventure. We already know the movie is going to end, so the point is not to live forever, but it’s to be heroic and enlightened. Enlightenment is seeing what in our belief system is not working. But to perceive the world differently, we must be willing to change our belief system, let the past slip away and expand our sense of now. We should strive to leave each person and each place a little better for our having been there. Simple.
This Age is supposed to bring the restoration of the Garden of Eden, the Golden Age of globalization where we all become citizens of the world. Maybe we will discover that there is only one religion: God. A Hindu who rejects Christ won’t find it. A Christian who rejects Buddha won’t find it. It is predicted that Aquarius is to be the Age of the Second Coming. Maybe, instead of a world leader, a master teacher, or a messiah, maybe, just maybe, in this coming Age of Enlightenment, we’ll discover that we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
In the words of an ancient Sanskrit greeting and farewell, "I bow to the Divine within you."
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Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Bach To Nature: Pianos in the Park
Santa Clara County placed 4 pianos in 4 parks with the intent of these pianos being played by anyone who wanted to perform in this outside park setting.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Clouds Sailing in Opposite Directions
While laying out on my deck listening to music I noticed that the flotilla of large, fluffy benign clouds were sailing west while the gauzy scrim of amorphous clouds were sweeping east.
It doesn't take much to tickle me but, those blue jays are sure perturbed about something.
Growing Up in a Rest Home
I grew up in a 19 room house. In the late seventies my parents turned
it into a private rest home and it was like growing up with 15
simultaneous grandmothers. It was very sad to see them pass on to new
life, surrounded by us, their new family - usually.
A news reporter commented that 81 was too soon for Joan Rivers to die. What is the right age to die? 75, 80, 98? It depends on the person and the life lived, I guess. Joan once said while she was in her sixties that she could die right now knowing that she has lived a full, satisfying and productive life. In the rest home, I knew 65 and 90 year old women who prayed nightly to die.
When my mother was in her sixties, she told me the same thing and gave me the dreaded instructions most children are uncomfortable with. . . While on her deathbed, her four week long deathbed, in a morphine induced coma, her body fought long and hard to stay alive. My pal Nancy jokingly said, "Give her the whole damn bottle." My mother would have approved but I was not strong enough.
That was the most pain-filled experience in my life and I would do it all over again for grief is just love with a bad reputation, love hurts. Illness and death bring enormous amounts of love, patience, humility and forgiveness into our lives and the lives of our families and friends - if we let it. Illness and death are not the enemy. Selfishness, greed, being judgmental and hateful are. They remove us from the bright/dark places of real life which help us to grow. I often listen to musicians and singers perform and think to myself that they have not experienced deep and profound loss yet. There is nothing wrong with heartbreak for it is love that breaks it and that love and loss can come through a musician's craft.
Have you ever noticed that after somebody has a heart attack, loses a child or goes through anything really heavy, their outlook can change overnight? They see life on a deeper level than before. They tend to think about the bigger things and not care so much about their hair, makeup, clothes or what anyone thinks. That is how many of my mother's residents were like. How they loved desert, a sip of wine, the raunchiest of R-rated movies or a can of beer, then more desert.
One of my mother's ladies once swiped another resident's un-eaten hotdog off her plate while clearing the table. Trying to eat the whole thing fast it got caught in her throat and she began to choke. It's a long story but I saved her life and she had to spend a few days in the hospital. When she came back, this woman who prayed for death was a new person. She took our dog out into the two hundred acres of field behind our house and walked for hours. She became a very hug-happy person after that event.
When my parent's first opened their home, they did not need a license to operate but eventually the state laws changed and they had to get one. In those days the state laws were a little more lax than they are today. For instance, the residents would have a glass of wine or brandy in the evening. Today that would not be permitted. The residents used to love helping around the house with cooking and cleaning but that would not be allowed today, either.
Since we all lived in the same space, shared the same kitchen and the same bathrooms (we had four), they were all part of the family. They even took turns going with my mother to do grocery shopping. That is one of the reasons there was a list of people waiting to get into my mom's home, because it was a home, complete with pets, children, home cooking and inclusion into the dynamics of a family household. There was always the smell of food cooking or baking. I don't know how my parents did it.
The residents participated in all the holidays with our family and even on Christmas morning, they opened presents with us around the tree. My mother always made sure everyone received gifts since many of their biological family failed in that responsibility. She was careful to label the presents "From Santa." For some reason that was acceptable as my mother found that if a gift came from any of us, the residents would be upset that they didn't get us something in return.
My mother contacted the local Roman Catholic church to have the priest bring Holy Communion on Sunday. The priest wouldn't come but sent lay Eucharistic Ministers. I was okay and enthralled with that but the ladies were from another generation where they viewed the priest as a little more elevated than the rest of us mere humans (many priest continue to believe that today). The ladies didn't respond to the laity and my mother sought another priest from another church. He came but refused to administer communion to the residents who were not Roman Catholic so my mother made contact with a Protestant pastor who would come every Sunday afternoon and administer Communion. He was wonderful to the ladies. He would often stay for half an hour to an hour to pray privately, chat, hear confessions and sing with my mother's people. They didn't know or really care about his denomination and they often called him "Father" and he never corrected them. Everyone loved him and my mother started giving him an envelope each week with fifty dollars cash in it. At first he refused it but my mother said that if he wouldn't take it, do something with it for the church or a needy family. I know many priests who would have just pocketed the cash.
He made our rest home part of his church's ministry. The choir would come caroling around Christmas, the church would provide little gift baskets for the ladies during the holidays and he always wore a collar which which meant a lot to the residents. His Sunday School kids would make cards for them and receiving those cards was a source of great joy for the ladies.
The state was good to my mother. She was licensed to have only six people but she had room for more if she doubled the beds in the rooms as some of them were quite large. DSS contacted her one day asking if she would be willing to take additional people, despite the legal limit. My mother said she didn't have the beds or furniture. They said no problem and a shipment of beds arrived a few days later. As the laws began to change, for instance, requiring the house to have hard wired smoke detectors or safety railings around the toilets and tub, the state provided that, too.
One day a law or regulation was passed requiring rest homes to provide menus displaying a whole month of meals. My mother refused saying that she goes shopping every few days and she never plans a month let alone days in advance. She shopped at the Farmer's Market and never knew what she was going to find. So, one of the state representatives gave her a pre-made menu and told her if an inspector ever wanted to see one, just present them with that one.
My mother was an amazing cook (I wish I paid attention) and the ladies loved her meals. No matter what my mother cooked though, the ladies loved the simple things like BLT's, toasted cheese, tomato sandwiches, hot dogs, egg sandwiches or fried bologna. The state provided free eggs, milk, cheese, butter and bread. Having 15 ladies there meant that there were a lot of dairy products coming in but there was no problem with the ladies consuming it. My mother would make the thickest toasted cheese sandwiches, or the richest mac and cheese. One of my mother's secret ingredients was all that butter. My God, everything tasted so good. The ladies were in gustatory heaven.
Many of the women had amazing stories. Mary was from Canada and when she was 15, she got pregnant. To spare the family of her shame, they sent her down to Troy, NY for several months to live with relatives until the baby was born. While down here, Mary met another boy and fell in love with him. After giving birth, she traveled back to Canada where they gave the baby to their neighbors who then raised the child as their own. Mary moved back down to NY to be with and marry her new boyfriend and her parents watched their grandson grow up from next door. The boy never knew his relationship to them until they died and his adoptive parents told him the truth. He got the address of his birth mom, Mary, and began writing to her. Mary corresponded but refused to allow him to come down and visit as she had gotten married and started a new family down here. After Mary died, the son from Canada, now with his own family, contacted the son in NY to connect with his step family. It was both shocking, exhilarating and sad for Mary's NY son to discover that he had a half brother and nieces and nephews up in Canada. It saddened him greatly that his mother took her unnecessary secret and shame to her grave. The Canada son was willing to let Mary live with him and his family while in her old age but she refused because of that seventy year old shame. Her story reminds me of the song NO MORE from "Into The Woods" sung by a father who ran away, leaving an infant child who grew up to contemplate running away, leaving his infant child:
Running away - let's do it,
Free from the ties that bind.
No more despair Or burdens to bear
Out there in the yonder.
Running away - go to it.
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care: Unless there's a "where,"
You'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions. Different kind.
Where are we to go?
Where are we ever to go?
Running away - we'll do it.
Why sit around, resigned?
Trouble is, son, The farther you run,
The more you feel undefined
For what you have left undone
And more, what you've left behind.
We disappoint,
We leave a mess,
We die but we don't . . .
I would often sit down at the piano and the ladies would wander in to listen to me play. It was amazing how these elderly women would not know the names of their own children but would know every word to a hymn, song or prayer. I would play music from the 20's and 40's for them and they would suddenly come alive, singing along, tapping their feet or "dance" with my father.
Every one of my mother's ladies had a story, some sad, others filled with great joy. All of the women were filled with tremendous love and stories of regret. I learned that some of the greatest saints were murderers first. That's all I'll say about that.
I can't imagine what my life would be like if I didn't grow up in a rest home. I know my work as a pastoral musician would be different, I'd be more a worshiper of music than of people (or worse - a worshiper of the institution). For certain, if we don’t suffer pain, we give up a good deal of spiritual growth. I think I will go play the piano.
"Time weaves ribbons of memory,
to sweeten life when youth is through."
-Pippin.
A news reporter commented that 81 was too soon for Joan Rivers to die. What is the right age to die? 75, 80, 98? It depends on the person and the life lived, I guess. Joan once said while she was in her sixties that she could die right now knowing that she has lived a full, satisfying and productive life. In the rest home, I knew 65 and 90 year old women who prayed nightly to die.
When my mother was in her sixties, she told me the same thing and gave me the dreaded instructions most children are uncomfortable with. . . While on her deathbed, her four week long deathbed, in a morphine induced coma, her body fought long and hard to stay alive. My pal Nancy jokingly said, "Give her the whole damn bottle." My mother would have approved but I was not strong enough.
That was the most pain-filled experience in my life and I would do it all over again for grief is just love with a bad reputation, love hurts. Illness and death bring enormous amounts of love, patience, humility and forgiveness into our lives and the lives of our families and friends - if we let it. Illness and death are not the enemy. Selfishness, greed, being judgmental and hateful are. They remove us from the bright/dark places of real life which help us to grow. I often listen to musicians and singers perform and think to myself that they have not experienced deep and profound loss yet. There is nothing wrong with heartbreak for it is love that breaks it and that love and loss can come through a musician's craft.
Have you ever noticed that after somebody has a heart attack, loses a child or goes through anything really heavy, their outlook can change overnight? They see life on a deeper level than before. They tend to think about the bigger things and not care so much about their hair, makeup, clothes or what anyone thinks. That is how many of my mother's residents were like. How they loved desert, a sip of wine, the raunchiest of R-rated movies or a can of beer, then more desert.
One of my mother's ladies once swiped another resident's un-eaten hotdog off her plate while clearing the table. Trying to eat the whole thing fast it got caught in her throat and she began to choke. It's a long story but I saved her life and she had to spend a few days in the hospital. When she came back, this woman who prayed for death was a new person. She took our dog out into the two hundred acres of field behind our house and walked for hours. She became a very hug-happy person after that event.
When my parent's first opened their home, they did not need a license to operate but eventually the state laws changed and they had to get one. In those days the state laws were a little more lax than they are today. For instance, the residents would have a glass of wine or brandy in the evening. Today that would not be permitted. The residents used to love helping around the house with cooking and cleaning but that would not be allowed today, either.
Since we all lived in the same space, shared the same kitchen and the same bathrooms (we had four), they were all part of the family. They even took turns going with my mother to do grocery shopping. That is one of the reasons there was a list of people waiting to get into my mom's home, because it was a home, complete with pets, children, home cooking and inclusion into the dynamics of a family household. There was always the smell of food cooking or baking. I don't know how my parents did it.
The residents participated in all the holidays with our family and even on Christmas morning, they opened presents with us around the tree. My mother always made sure everyone received gifts since many of their biological family failed in that responsibility. She was careful to label the presents "From Santa." For some reason that was acceptable as my mother found that if a gift came from any of us, the residents would be upset that they didn't get us something in return.
My mother contacted the local Roman Catholic church to have the priest bring Holy Communion on Sunday. The priest wouldn't come but sent lay Eucharistic Ministers. I was okay and enthralled with that but the ladies were from another generation where they viewed the priest as a little more elevated than the rest of us mere humans (many priest continue to believe that today). The ladies didn't respond to the laity and my mother sought another priest from another church. He came but refused to administer communion to the residents who were not Roman Catholic so my mother made contact with a Protestant pastor who would come every Sunday afternoon and administer Communion. He was wonderful to the ladies. He would often stay for half an hour to an hour to pray privately, chat, hear confessions and sing with my mother's people. They didn't know or really care about his denomination and they often called him "Father" and he never corrected them. Everyone loved him and my mother started giving him an envelope each week with fifty dollars cash in it. At first he refused it but my mother said that if he wouldn't take it, do something with it for the church or a needy family. I know many priests who would have just pocketed the cash.
He made our rest home part of his church's ministry. The choir would come caroling around Christmas, the church would provide little gift baskets for the ladies during the holidays and he always wore a collar which which meant a lot to the residents. His Sunday School kids would make cards for them and receiving those cards was a source of great joy for the ladies.
The state was good to my mother. She was licensed to have only six people but she had room for more if she doubled the beds in the rooms as some of them were quite large. DSS contacted her one day asking if she would be willing to take additional people, despite the legal limit. My mother said she didn't have the beds or furniture. They said no problem and a shipment of beds arrived a few days later. As the laws began to change, for instance, requiring the house to have hard wired smoke detectors or safety railings around the toilets and tub, the state provided that, too.
One day a law or regulation was passed requiring rest homes to provide menus displaying a whole month of meals. My mother refused saying that she goes shopping every few days and she never plans a month let alone days in advance. She shopped at the Farmer's Market and never knew what she was going to find. So, one of the state representatives gave her a pre-made menu and told her if an inspector ever wanted to see one, just present them with that one.
My mother was an amazing cook (I wish I paid attention) and the ladies loved her meals. No matter what my mother cooked though, the ladies loved the simple things like BLT's, toasted cheese, tomato sandwiches, hot dogs, egg sandwiches or fried bologna. The state provided free eggs, milk, cheese, butter and bread. Having 15 ladies there meant that there were a lot of dairy products coming in but there was no problem with the ladies consuming it. My mother would make the thickest toasted cheese sandwiches, or the richest mac and cheese. One of my mother's secret ingredients was all that butter. My God, everything tasted so good. The ladies were in gustatory heaven.
Many of the women had amazing stories. Mary was from Canada and when she was 15, she got pregnant. To spare the family of her shame, they sent her down to Troy, NY for several months to live with relatives until the baby was born. While down here, Mary met another boy and fell in love with him. After giving birth, she traveled back to Canada where they gave the baby to their neighbors who then raised the child as their own. Mary moved back down to NY to be with and marry her new boyfriend and her parents watched their grandson grow up from next door. The boy never knew his relationship to them until they died and his adoptive parents told him the truth. He got the address of his birth mom, Mary, and began writing to her. Mary corresponded but refused to allow him to come down and visit as she had gotten married and started a new family down here. After Mary died, the son from Canada, now with his own family, contacted the son in NY to connect with his step family. It was both shocking, exhilarating and sad for Mary's NY son to discover that he had a half brother and nieces and nephews up in Canada. It saddened him greatly that his mother took her unnecessary secret and shame to her grave. The Canada son was willing to let Mary live with him and his family while in her old age but she refused because of that seventy year old shame. Her story reminds me of the song NO MORE from "Into The Woods" sung by a father who ran away, leaving an infant child who grew up to contemplate running away, leaving his infant child:
Running away - let's do it,
Free from the ties that bind.
No more despair Or burdens to bear
Out there in the yonder.
Running away - go to it.
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care: Unless there's a "where,"
You'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions. Different kind.
Where are we to go?
Where are we ever to go?
Running away - we'll do it.
Why sit around, resigned?
Trouble is, son, The farther you run,
The more you feel undefined
For what you have left undone
And more, what you've left behind.
We disappoint,
We leave a mess,
We die but we don't . . .
I would often sit down at the piano and the ladies would wander in to listen to me play. It was amazing how these elderly women would not know the names of their own children but would know every word to a hymn, song or prayer. I would play music from the 20's and 40's for them and they would suddenly come alive, singing along, tapping their feet or "dance" with my father.
Every one of my mother's ladies had a story, some sad, others filled with great joy. All of the women were filled with tremendous love and stories of regret. I learned that some of the greatest saints were murderers first. That's all I'll say about that.
I can't imagine what my life would be like if I didn't grow up in a rest home. I know my work as a pastoral musician would be different, I'd be more a worshiper of music than of people (or worse - a worshiper of the institution). For certain, if we don’t suffer pain, we give up a good deal of spiritual growth. I think I will go play the piano.
"Time weaves ribbons of memory,
to sweeten life when youth is through."
-Pippin.
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