Best of the Welcome Columns


Best of the Welcome Columns

Author: Alston, Ed
The Healing Spirit of Bluegrass Music

Loaning out my XM satellite radio isn’t something I often do. But a most compelling reason arose last month. My semi-iconic bluegrass pal -- Joe Quealy -- found himself recovering from knee surgery. He was going to be laid up in a Santa Maria rehab facility for several weeks. Quite fortuitously, Joe’s temporary residence turned out to be just a couple blocks from where I live. So when I learned he had moved virtually into my neighborhood, I strolled over to wish him well. The facility at first struck me as typical of its kind -- comfortably austere and sterile. But I soon enough sensed that every member of the facility’s staff, beyond displaying eminent professional competence, was personable and cheerful. So I felt Joe would be in good hands. However, I didn’t find much to commend about patients’ rooms. Each one encompassed maybe 200 sq. ft., with standard bed, full bath, and television. Noticeably lacking were internet and satellite radio connections…almost necessities in these technologically enhanced times. I couldn’t do much about the lack of internet connection. However, I offered to loan Joe my XM Radio for the duration of his stay. After voicing some (okay, token) reluctance, he accepted. The radio, of course, wound up continually tuned to the Bluegrass Junction channel. So most every time I visited Joe, I would hear the sublime strains of our beloved high lonesome sound as I approached his room. One bright note about Joe’s standard-issue room: while its primary door opened from the building’s interior hallway, the opposite side of the room featured a sliding glass door with view of a nicely manicured courtyard garden. Another fine touch appeared in the courtyard’s center. There grew a lovely tree, beneath which sat a card table and chairs. If you can envision that scene -- and know anything of Joe -- yup, the courtyard setting signaled major jam potential! And, indeed, on about my third visit I found Joe (now able to move about via wheelchair) and three friends sitting at the courtyard table. All but Joe were playing bluegrass instruments. His friends did most of the singing, but Joe often chimed in with harmony on choruses. I feared the jam, with its ample volume and central location, might disturb patients in as many as a dozen rooms. However, that concern quickly evaporated. An attendant walked over to the jam -- not to complain, but rather to voice her appreciation for such “wonderful music“. This lady, like most of the facility’s staff, did not resemble CBA’s core constituency, as she appeared to be in her 30s and of Filipino descent. She explained that she lately had enjoyed listening to a friend who played old country songs on his guitar, and what she was hearing in Joe’s jam was even better. I was delighted to get this new bluegrass fan’s name on the Central Coast Bluegrass Music Society’s e-mailing list….and to give her a flyer for next year’s Parkfield fest. And so it went. The music that accompanied Joe’s residency was surprisingly well received by facility staff and fellow patients throughout his nearly month-long stay. One evening toward the end of Joe’s recovery I walked over to visit him. And, of course, to listen to some XM Radio bluegrass. About 100 feet from his room I could hear live acoustic music echoing down the hallway. It turned out that Joe’s guitar-strumming pal, Eddie, was holding forth, with Joe occasionally adding harmony touches to Eddie’s fine, soulful singing. For a moment I felt that, given the late hour and the music’s volume, the staff might want to close Joe’s door. But no objection was lodged by other patients. In fact, some lingered in their wheelchairs outside the room. And as for a few outside visitors, who’d been coming and going to see the patient directly across the hall, they all seemed to welcome the music. So for about an hour sublime traditional bluegrass and country sounds continued to fill the hallway at full volume, compliments of Eddie and Joe. Then Eddie took a breather. He walked outside to retrieve something from his vehicle. Joe meanwhile deftly steered his wheelchair into the hallway toward a couple of newly-arrived people standing outside the room opposite his. About a minute later, Joe returned to tell me what he'd learned. The patient in the room across the hall had just expired -- apparently not surprising, given his age and condition when admitted -- and the local mortician had arrived to remove the man's body. It was a decidedly sobering moment. While I'd been enjoying Eddie & Joe's music, a man had passed away not more than 60 feet from where we sat, his name and personal circumstances totally unknown to any of us. That made me reflect. In time I surmised that if, as seemed likely, the gentleman had been capable of hearing, the last music he heard was the marvelous sound of live bluegrass and country music. There surely are worse ways to exit this world.

Posted: 9/15/2011