söndag 27 januari 2013

What a joy to sing to the elders

The last two weeks we did 22 concerts to the elders. Vocal trio Irmelin in Göteborg, what a joy!

It's a fine job, the elders get so happy, they need this input from outside to put colour to the daily life. Many have loss of memory, sit in wheel chairs, can't take part in society like they used to. It's a good thing that the city employ us musicians and make sure they get live music when they can't go to concerts in town anymore.

Our songs come from the north sea, shanties and sea men songs. In the audience we've had a number of people who worked on the sea. Here's the tattoo one former sea captain showed us after concert. He was 16 years old when he started on the sea. The tattoo was made then.

Dotted dresses and red shoes has been our outfit for performance.

Most days lovely winter weather. Frosty trees, minus degrees, blue sky.

Göteborg by night. Many days we kept on working late after doing our concerts. We have to compleete the mixing of our new coming cd and we did the photo session as well.

No wonder that I have been extraordinary tired this weekend, the first free days in looong time.

And what can be more energizing than dancing? Today is balboa boost at the dance club. I'll be there!


2 kommentarer:

  1. Just got this on Facebook:
    When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
    Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

    One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

    And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

    Cranky Old Man

    What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
    What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
    A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
    Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
    Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
    When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
    Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
    And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
    Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
    With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
    Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
    Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
    I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
    As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
    I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
    Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
    A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
    Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
    A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
    Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
    At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
    Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
    A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
    Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
    At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
    But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
    At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
    Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
    Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
    I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
    For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
    And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
    I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
    It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
    The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
    There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
    But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
    And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
    I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
    And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
    I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
    And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
    So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
    Not a cranky old man .
    Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!

  2. So true, so true. This is exactly what we need to remind ourselves of. How we can be all our ages at the same time. The child in us. The teenager also, and our grown up self. All existing at the same time. We can be much better in honouring our elders. We have a lt to learn from cultures who honour their elders. Respect for the elders frequently coming up when I follow the news about Idle No More, grassroots movement in Canada.