The "No" Moments

One thing that all musicians take for granted is a willing audience. Occasionally there are unappreciative audience, and even rude ones at times, but a musician almost never encounters an unwilling audience. In a nutshell, the objective of a musician is to share, to please, and to be appreciated. Any other purpose would seem to fall out of the general definition of performance.

Before volunteering for MOC, I was warned by its orientation packet not to "take it personally" when a patient declines the mini-concert. There is a myriad of reasons why someone would refuse to hear music on a hospital bed, and all we can do in that situation is to respect that wish and move on. Much sensitivity is required from the volunteer guides and musicians, as some of these "no" signs are subtle and not easily picked up. For example, I once encountered an elderly lady who did not give my guide a big "no" when she asked her whether she would like to hear some music. As a matter of fact, I didn't know what their exchange was like because I usually don't enter a room until I was invited (so as not to crowd a room and to give the patients the privacy that is often a luxury in a hospital setting). As I started playing, I noticed that she was trying to tell me something. She waved her hands slightly, but it was her eyes that told me to stop immediately. I asked her softly if something was the matter. She grunted a little, and pointed to her head. Apparently she had a headache and wanted some peace and quiet, but could not convey that wish easily.

There was another "no" situation tonight, though a little different from that one. My guide was met with a resounding "yes" from the visitors of a gentleman, who had heard me playing in other rooms. She quickly introduced me, and I went into the room, ready to share everything I had. The admiring glances and voices of anticipations I received by the doorway was quickly interrupted by a gruff "But I don't want her to see me like this!"

An awkward silence ensued. I backed up to the doorway, stood next to the bathroom, and started playing softly. I listened attentively for any uproar inside the room that would serve as a signal to stop playing immediately, but there was total silence. As I came to the final cadence, the room came back to life again with chatters from visitors at each corner. Amidst the "wow" and "brava", the same deep voice thundered--a little gentler than the first time--"Thank you."

That, was music to my ears.