my first job out of high school was part-time receptionist at a very large
convalescent hospital.  i was often bored at the desk, because of their
being so few phone calls for the patients or nurses' stations and so few
visitors to greet and direct to the rooms.  sometimes, i'd sketch a bit when
bored, but mainly i looked for excuses to go visit patients, like delivering
their mail.  got to know and love a lot of them, many of whom had been
warehoused there, because they had no families; a couple who could only
speak italian or japanese (which i boned up on, just to be able to greet
them in their native language).

i was in two bands back then, a vocalist in both.  i guess you'd call them
quasi or semi-pro, because we got paid for performing.  one was a folk group
on the night club/coffee house circuit; the other group played and sang for
private parties/social gatherings.

i convinced my boss, mrs. wiley, at the convalescent hospital and mrs.
mackey, a professional operatic mezzo-soprano who managed the social
party/gathering group, to allow us to practice at my workplace.  the
repertoire for that group consisted of mainly old standards and easy
listening.

twice a week, before our practices, we'd wheel anybody ambulatory out of
their rooms, with the help of the nursing staff, physical therapist, kitchen
help and maintenence crew;  some patients would use their walkers, some,
canes to join us in the very large lobby.  over the course of several
months, many who had been bedridden by depression or simply refused to leave
their beds, requested wheel chairs just to get out to the music.  the nurses
would use the intercom system to pipe the music into the rooms of those too
ill to leave their beds.

it was just practice for us, with lots of breaks in the music where mrs.
mackey would tweak a refrain, not polished concert product.  but it
connected with the patients somehow.  they often sang along and seemed to
look forward to it, as each practice brought more and more patients to the
lobby.

i often think about forest green convalescent hospital and the sweet people
who resided there.  in a way, though i can see the humor in them, things
like this joke make me feel sad.

kate

Lol!  Nearly spilled my cider on the keyboard!

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