Greenville, Alabama—welcome to Country Place Senior Living. I’m playing guitar for a room of people who have more life-experience than a sackful of white hair.
My guitar is beat-up and old. It once belonged to my father. It’s been with me a long time.
It’s traveled to a lot of places. Beer joints, all-you-can-eat-catfish joints, weddings, crab boils, Baptist chapels. And nursing homes.
I’m not a good guitar player per se, but here I am just the same. I’m standing before a ninety-nine-year-old colonel who sits in a wheelchair. He is watching me sing.
Life is funny sometimes.
I'm taking requests from the Southern Baptist hymnal.
The Colonel calls out, “Play ‘When the Roll is Called up Yonder.’”
“Just a Closer Walk With Thee,” suggests one woman.
“Will the Circle Be Unbroken.”
“Precious Memories.”
Another woman claps in rhythm to “I'll Fly Away.” She barely has enough stamina to clap two full verses.
A lady says, “Can you sing ‘Blessed Assurance?’”
I give it a shot. It’s been a long time since I last sang the great Fannie Crosby anthem. I get through verse one.
Then, I
forget the words to the second verse.
And even though long ago I won a county-fair talent show singing this EXACT American classic; even though I took the blue ribbon playing this VERY guitar; even though I have bellowed this song a hundred times before in the church; I have to stop singing.
Life is funny sometimes.
Alaina, the activities director, knows the lyrics. She starts singing for me.
“Perfect submission,
All is at rest…”
She has a good voice. And while she sings, I hear more than just her. I hear old folks singing.
The old colonel’s voice is strong and sweet. Hazel—the ninety-four-year-old—sounds like country chapels and chess pies.
And I wish you could hear them. They are your ancestors. And mine. They are soft, but not weak.
“This is…