“Hey, it’s Dad. You should come in. There’s a guy playing the piano in about an hour. Thought you might enjoy it”

Hard for me to resist. As a pianist, this message from dad garnered my musical attention. I do get flyers from his facility noting special events and didn’t notice this, however, things change. In the midst of a stupidly busy schedule, finding time to meet dad’s needs and enjoy a pianist was hard to pass up.

I quickly loaded frozen foods into my commercial freezer, stacked rolls and buns neatly on trays in my van, organized paperwork in half-time, and waited in line at the local bank … all in enough time to arrive five minutes early. Dad was seated in his usual comfortable chair against the same wall to the right side of a wonderful grand piano. Luck would have an empty chair to his right. A casual son-hug and welcoming smile greeted the 2 pm concert.

… and so did a nice lady who walked into the ornate room with song sheets in hand.

To my unexpected surprise, this was an afternoon sing-along. Not classical Chopin or beautiful Bach, but nonetheless a shifting of my mental gears toward “You Are My Sunshine” and “She’ll Be Coming Around The Mountain”…

And you know what? Perfectly ok!

Listening to delightful Debussy or magnificent Mozart is centering. I love piano music of all eras. Playing baroque through modern piano literature has invited joy into my life for decades. Listening to concerti, sonatas, suites, symphonies, operas, Broadway shows, and beyond has immeasurably changed my life.

Yes, music is extremely important. (The arts, in general, are.) No more than fifteen years ago, dad was active in my barbershop harmony chorus. As I directed, he dutifully sang in the lead section. This day he hadn’t lost his wonderful voice through song, although, following the lyrics was a struggle.

We sang together. Melody and harmony. Thirty minutes of a son interweaving notes around a dad’s melodic existence as only he knows. Some correctly sung, some not. And, that was certainly OK. Perfectly fine.

“What a cool musical metaphor painted on the canvas dad and I have!” This crossed my mind as we sat together winding our way through “Grandfather’s Clock”.

So many times over the years dad has maintained a path – dementia led – that isn’t really solid melodically, and I’ve had to find a way to harmonize with it. Have it make some sense, in a way – try to improvise a solution that’s pleasing, kind, and sympathetic. All the while, keep the intent of his melody intact.

After the sing-along, we had to part ways quickly as my schedule became my boss once again. Too many events and not enough days to … well, work. Dad was very happy an effort was made to come in and see “the guy” play piano. With a hug and a smile, about forty-minutes ended.

During his week-ending days, he most likely forgot that “concert”. Routine took over. I am sure meals, daily care, and other activities began to occupy brain space otherwise used for “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” memories. Again, certainly OK. Perfectly fine.

I’ll take all this as a win – both for dad and me. Sure, it wasn’t capricious Copland or happy Haydn who occupied our time; however, it was classic dad for a half-hour as only he can be … as he is.

Next time there’s a concert invite in my message inbox, I’ll still go regardless of the “performer”, of course. Never know what surprise awaits that will engage my interest.

Warning though. If it’s anything related to dancing, there will be no video or blog post. That’s an art form – albeit very important – you won’t see me do. Not pretty.

… And not even close to being perfectly OK.