Originally published in March, 2012 edition of The American Journal's monthly magazine, My Generation.
Music To A Dogs Ear
I do not consider myself a musician, nor am I someone who listens to music a lot. Other than oldie goldies in the car and perhaps a little classical thrown in when I need a change, I usually listen to NPR and try to stimulate my brain with words. However I do sing a lot in the car, by myself, out of earshot of any other humans; my dog pays little attention to me whether I am singing or not.
As a child I remember music being a little traumatic for me. My mother sometimes picked inopportune times to tell the story of my class of pre-kindergarteners singing in the front of the church. The first song was “This Little Light of Mine” and every other child apparently sang their little hearts out while I took in the sights of the church and the congregation with no words coming from my gaping mouth. As soon as they started singing the second song in our performance, without missing a beat, I sang “This Little Light of Mine” while they sang “Jesus Loves Me.” It may have been my imagination but I think my mother laughed the hardest when she recounted this story.
Being the youngest of three, my parents learned lessons from my older siblings. My sister took violin lessons for a little while and then refused to practice. My brother took Hawaiian guitar lessons for a time and then refused to practice. When I came along, I wanted to learn the piano and they said they had already learned their lesson and they were not going to invest any more money in music.
When I went away to college I bought a guitar from a local pawnshop along with a music book to learn the chords. I never really felt like I was a musician but I did have a good time with others who took the time to teach me more about plucking, strumming and fretting. I did have enough nerve to perform at talent shows at college once I realized the organizers would pretty much let anyone get on stage regardless of degree of talent.
Playing the guitar dwindled for me over the years of my energy being focused on career, home improvement, relationships, and child raising to name a few. Now that I have more time, I have gone back to finding a place for music in my life. I continue to be inspired by my work in hospice and once jokingly said I wanted to write a musical called Hospice, the Musical. I put together some popular songs that seemed to be talking about the end-of-life excursion beneath the surface. I presented some workshops at my church where people are used to my approach to talking about the hard stuff by adding a little humor.
Getting up in front of a group of people is something I enjoy. Even though the older I get and the more I learn, I am finding the realization of the less I know. I have found a new friend who is a real musician. She is helping me with a presentation of the next generation of Hospice, the Musical. The name of this presentation is How to Succeed in Dying in Ten Easy Lessons. I am not mentioning her name here in an effort to protect the innocent. We are rehearsing like crazy and our dress rehearsal in front of a live audience will be early next month.
I am finding that I do not have to be any kind of authority on a subject just to be able to talk about it. Sometimes I read books and find that I was not inspired by what the author was saying nor was there a great revelation. I am not sure what we, as humans, actually know. For example, what I leaned in nursing school about how the body works has changed considerably over the years. New studies negate facts I committed to memory 40 short years ago.
I am not a musician, nor can I tell one note from the next on a piece of paper, but that does not keep me from the delight of standing up in front of an audience and singing my heart out. If I lose the ability of finding an audience for my passion, I will still take delight in singing by myself in my car, while my voice falls on the flopped ears of my napping hound dog.
Lenora Trussell
Copyright February 2012
Lenora Trussell, RN, CHPN has recently published Circling the Drain, a collection of end-of-life stories. She is available for workshops, presentations and consultations on this and other topics.
Music To A Dogs Ear
I do not consider myself a musician, nor am I someone who listens to music a lot. Other than oldie goldies in the car and perhaps a little classical thrown in when I need a change, I usually listen to NPR and try to stimulate my brain with words. However I do sing a lot in the car, by myself, out of earshot of any other humans; my dog pays little attention to me whether I am singing or not.
As a child I remember music being a little traumatic for me. My mother sometimes picked inopportune times to tell the story of my class of pre-kindergarteners singing in the front of the church. The first song was “This Little Light of Mine” and every other child apparently sang their little hearts out while I took in the sights of the church and the congregation with no words coming from my gaping mouth. As soon as they started singing the second song in our performance, without missing a beat, I sang “This Little Light of Mine” while they sang “Jesus Loves Me.” It may have been my imagination but I think my mother laughed the hardest when she recounted this story.
Being the youngest of three, my parents learned lessons from my older siblings. My sister took violin lessons for a little while and then refused to practice. My brother took Hawaiian guitar lessons for a time and then refused to practice. When I came along, I wanted to learn the piano and they said they had already learned their lesson and they were not going to invest any more money in music.
When I went away to college I bought a guitar from a local pawnshop along with a music book to learn the chords. I never really felt like I was a musician but I did have a good time with others who took the time to teach me more about plucking, strumming and fretting. I did have enough nerve to perform at talent shows at college once I realized the organizers would pretty much let anyone get on stage regardless of degree of talent.
Playing the guitar dwindled for me over the years of my energy being focused on career, home improvement, relationships, and child raising to name a few. Now that I have more time, I have gone back to finding a place for music in my life. I continue to be inspired by my work in hospice and once jokingly said I wanted to write a musical called Hospice, the Musical. I put together some popular songs that seemed to be talking about the end-of-life excursion beneath the surface. I presented some workshops at my church where people are used to my approach to talking about the hard stuff by adding a little humor.
Getting up in front of a group of people is something I enjoy. Even though the older I get and the more I learn, I am finding the realization of the less I know. I have found a new friend who is a real musician. She is helping me with a presentation of the next generation of Hospice, the Musical. The name of this presentation is How to Succeed in Dying in Ten Easy Lessons. I am not mentioning her name here in an effort to protect the innocent. We are rehearsing like crazy and our dress rehearsal in front of a live audience will be early next month.
I am finding that I do not have to be any kind of authority on a subject just to be able to talk about it. Sometimes I read books and find that I was not inspired by what the author was saying nor was there a great revelation. I am not sure what we, as humans, actually know. For example, what I leaned in nursing school about how the body works has changed considerably over the years. New studies negate facts I committed to memory 40 short years ago.
I am not a musician, nor can I tell one note from the next on a piece of paper, but that does not keep me from the delight of standing up in front of an audience and singing my heart out. If I lose the ability of finding an audience for my passion, I will still take delight in singing by myself in my car, while my voice falls on the flopped ears of my napping hound dog.
Lenora Trussell
Copyright February 2012
Lenora Trussell, RN, CHPN has recently published Circling the Drain, a collection of end-of-life stories. She is available for workshops, presentations and consultations on this and other topics.