Volunteering & Volunteer Students

Today we went to an old folks' home in downtown Bellevue. It was actually a pretty posh place; nice paintings and drawings (by the residents?) hanging on walls and columns. Big black grand piano in the front foyer, which, because we were there to play for the residents, was surrounded by a lot of couches and folding chair. There were a lot of old ladies with white hair sitting around, pretty quietly, occasionally saying a word to another little old lady, or just looking at things. Some little old men too.

In contrast, next to the piano were all the kids who were going to perform, and the two piano teachers. Mine, and another Japanese lady I think. The littlest student was 5--she was adorable. She had on a little white satin dress with black lace at the waist and the hem. So cute. I think she spoke only Japanese.

Sitting across from me on a couch was an old lady with very pale copper hair--she had very pale skin too. Her daughter (late thirties?) sat next to her and had her hand resting on her mother's knee. The daughter was brown haired; nice white sweater; had her own two daughters there as well (3?4?5?). Three generations of women!

The little Japanese girl in the white dress played first. From what I could see, the front row of old ladies loved her.

Then we went through by age, mostly, and expertise. I played last. Love theme from Romeo and Juliet, the1968 version. So I'm sure all the elderly folks knew the song very well. I had a bit of a pause at the beginning of one section. The high B flat was also flipping me out--I think it hit one string of another note. Not a very good piano.  I thought I played marginally well, with emotion. But anyone could play that song well, it's so beautiful.

Afterwards, I talked to the daughter of Miss Pale Copper Hair, and Miss Pale Copper Hair herself. Apparently, many years ago,  she was a pianist as well as an opera singer! That's so cool. She said she really enjoyed my playing. I was very flattered. I said that we would probably be doing it again next month. Both daughter and Miss Pale Copper Hair seemed pleased to know that. It gave me a good feeling.

Also talked to a Miss Purple Dress who didn't actually seem that old, or at least old enough to be in a retirement home. And another pale blonde old lady with lots of jewelry and very red lipstick; she mouthed "good job!" at me when I was done.

I'm on page 447 of 518 pages of The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I can feel myself slowing tipping over the edge to some great sadness--something about to happen.