Pearl at 100

My wife and I met in 1987 here in New York City, at Carnegie Hall to be exact.  She worked in the subscription ticket office and I worked part time as a temp.  My excuse in starting a conversation with her centered around a friend who wanted tickets to see a famous pianist.  My friend wanted to be sure he could get a seat that allowed him to see the pianist’s hands.  Afterwards on our first date, and to our mutual surprise, we discovered that we both grew up in Baltimore.  Much to my own surprise I also discovered that her mother took her to hear Rahsaan Roland Kirk at the Left Bank Jazz Society when she was a young teenager.  I never got to hear Rahsaan Roland Kirk live and was envious but also impressed which pretty much sealed the deal as far as I was concerned.  As things became more serious it came time to meet her mother.  I was doing a gig in Washington DC at Blues Alley and her mother attended, by herself and stayed the whole time.  We spoke, it seemed fine, but I couldn’t get a clear “read” on how she felt about her daughter dating a saxophone player.  A few days after returning home my wife received a letter from her mother and she let me read it.  To my surprise it was essentially a review of the gig, very well thought out and very well written.  OK, so I didn’t see that coming.  

Over the years, Pearl (that’s her name) attended pretty much every concert that I did in Baltimore not to mention those of a number of my colleagues.  In her retirement (from Johns Hopkins as a statistician) Pearl became an active supporter of various cultural and arts organizations.  She maintained an active lifestyle her whole life, read profusely, maintained friendships, never watched television and played in an amateur recorder ensemble.  This month she turned one hundred.  Now residing in an assisted living center she is enjoying her life with a whole new group of folks, albeit with a different rhythm and dynamic than in the past.  We went to visit her to celebrate this milestone and while parts of her memory are fading she seemed happy and conversant.  While I couldn’t say for sure if she remembered me it was somehow OK.  She is living more in the moment than anyone I’ve ever met, inspiring yet somewhat unsettling at first.  My own anxiety was more the issue, she seems not to be suffering at all.  She could express her pleasure or displeasure honestly and freely, there was no residual.  It probably helps that the staff were relaxed and attentive.  They seem genuinely fond of the folks they are taking care of.  

As it happened, I had my saxophone with me.  Michelle (my wife) suggested I might be prepared to play something if circumstances allowed.  I know Pearl enjoyed classical music and so I prepared a few short things to have on hand just in case.  In spite of the fact that this was not going to be a formal performance I practiced seriously given that I still have some uncertainty over my ability to perform classical repertoire in a public setting.  This would serve as a trial run but if it didn’t happen that’d be fine too.  After we arrived Michelle spoke to the fellow running things (his name was Claude) and asked if it would be all right if I played.  He said he’d have to think about it.  I took that as a no-go and dropped some of the angst I was carrying while still trying to process the whole experience emotionally.  Some folks spoke, some didn’t.  I understood what some were talking about, others not so much.  One woman, very nice, apologized for not recognizing me.  We’d never met before but she was so sincere that we wound up having a short conversation.  I sat back down, slightly bewildered, and suddenly here comes Claude, asking me point blank, “do you know ‘Tea for Two’?”  He’s looking right at me and I’m drawing a blank, just the first phrase is running through my head like a dog chasing it’s own tail.  “Maybe, why?” I asked.  “Because I’m going to tap dance and that’s what you’re going to play”, leaving no wiggle room in his declaration.  

Fortunately we had about an hour before “showtime” in the lunch room during which I tried to figure out the tune.  Turned out there was a piano on hand with which to aid in refreshing my memory.  Michelle’s sister offered to help, dialing up a version of the song on her phone and playing it for Pearl, letting her know what was in store.  Turns out it was a version by Ella Fitzgerald with the Count Basie band.  Super swinging.  Pearl listened intently with her eyes closed, bobbing her head on every beat, occasionally letting out a “yea” or “all right” and giving Basie a “not too bad!” after his piano flourish.  I’d never seen her in this uninhibited mode before, quite a contrast to the Scandinavian reserve that I was more accustomed to.  Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to her meal before asking to be taken outside for some fresh air where she dozed for a bit.  I continued practicing in my head since I wasn’t sure what games my mind might play under the circumstances.

Back in the lunch room Claude was putting on his taps.  No one seemed to sense anything was about to take place until Claude got up and made an announcement, the recognition of which was subtle at best.  You just didn’t know for sure what folks were taking in or not, but something was happening.  I asked Claude for a tempo, he counted it off and we went.  He claimed to have been self taught but he was quite good.  The staff perked up even as they continued their tasks.  We went for a couple of choruses and I was able to elaborate on the tune a bit before giving Claude an outro which he elegantly punctuated.  And we’re done.  Big silence.  This too was somehow OK, more than OK, really…  

Upon leaving I gave Pearl a peck on the cheek and she smiled.  ”See you tomorrow” she said brightly…