Ruth

Tom is on vacation when he leaves work today. That's good. I feel as though I am on a working vacation as I cook, bake and cook some more. None of that next week. Today,snickerdoodles and chocolate layered cookies are on the menu. That's it for the cookies.

We had a really nice holiday meal with Dad Russell last night. We went to the holiday sing-along. We listened to the elderly talk about Christmases past. That was really nice. It made me wonder what I will be like when I get their age. What will I have to talk about? Will it be precious memories? I truly hope so.

Last Saturday, I took 15 or so kids to play at Sunrise. We first played in Reminiscence downstairs, where Tom's Mom was before she passed away. These are folks who have memory impairment or dimentia of some sort. I think it is really interesting to be down there. Those precious souls are like children. They say what they think, just like children. I think, when you look at them, you are seeing their true being. No fancy show. No put-ons. Just life going on minute by minute. There was a woman down there, whose name was Ruth. She had sparkly cat eye glasses on and silver hair. I arrived early to await my students. During the warm up and tuning stage of our program, she kept asking me if I had all my students tuned, in order and ready to play. I thought this odd, but it was REMINISCENCE, so I just answered her questions. She was loving, gentle, and encouraging to my kids. As we left, she played the piano. She played quite well on the old broken down set of keys. Yesterday, she came upstairs and played for the sing along. When they announced her name, they said that she had been a music teacher. She sat down at the piano, and this is what she said "Merry Christmas, we made another one". I chuckled and thought about how totally honest she was.

After the sing along, I went up to her and told her that I was a music teacher. I found out that she wasn't just any music teacher. She taught violin. As she told me this, I thought I was gonna cry. She lifted her hands and said "Look at these hands. They can't play the violin any more." Then, I gave her a big hug and I did cry a little. I have to visit Ruth now. Even though she has dimentia and probably won't remember when I come, we are kindred spirits. When I look at her, I see myself. I dread the day when I can't play anymore. I can only hope that when I get like her, I am quirky enough to wear sparkly cat eye glasses, feisty enough to just say what I am thinking, and loving enough to encourage and inspire other violin teachers. I consider Ruth my little Christmas angel.