Smile

Today at a nursing home where I sing monthly,  the group was not listening and we were not connecting. This particular group is hard because they are comprised of people who are at the home temporarily while they undergo rehab from surgery or injury. Therefore, they are not really a bonded group and each month it is different.

Anyway, I was singing for this group and some fell asleep and other drifted away and when  I saw that there was no connection to be made I decided to sing for myself. I sang, "Smile" composed by Charlie Chaplin (lyrics by another author later). I had my eyes closed for most of the song and when it came to an end and I opened my eyes, there was a man in a wheelchair in front of me with tears overflowing in his eyes. It looked as though he wanted to say something but appeared unable to talk. I said, "that was written by Charlie Chaplin."

He told me I had a very unusual voice and style. He asked what other ballads I played and I then sang, "Georgia" and "Fly me to the moon" and this got us talking and getting to know each other. He asked me all about my music career and where I am from and what I have done professionally. It was a rare moment I shared with him, someone who saw the real me--that is what it felt like. It felt like I unveiled a vulnerable part of myself and he was someone who truly valued and appreciated what he heard and saw.

I often try to sing uplifting songs at nursing homes--partly because some of them are on medications that make them drowsy and they need the stimulation. But I admit that my heart is really into the slow, romantic ballads. It was such a nice feeling when I felt that I was able to uncover that part of myself and that man saw it and he appreciated it.

Part of me wondered if maybe the others were not listening because I was not really being myself. I think people do feel this. And when I dropped that act and sang what was true to my heart, there was someone there who felt that.

Artists walk the fine line of being trying to please others while also trying to remain true to oneself. Today's lesson was to let the real me out more often and let the chips fall where they may.

When I said goodby to the gentleman who listened to me at the end, his eyes filled with tears again and he said, "thank you for the music." Really though,  I have him to thank.