too many numbers

I have started working with an elderly woman who has some sort of dementia, not sure of the official diagnosis, but she suffers memory loss. She also recently lost her husband of 50 some years and moved in with her daughter and family. So life has not been easy nor blissful for this dear lady recently.

I am already teaching the two grandchildren at their home, so their mother wondered if piano would be helpful for her mother. I believe music is helpful in all sorts of situations so of course I said yes.

A few things I've noticed so far...keep the lesson short. We only have a 15 minute session. I try to follow her lead, but she does like to tell me she can't do this. I have to tell her over and over that she can it just takes time. Her fingers are very stiff so that also poses another problem.

Today I realized that there are too many numbers - we have finger numbers 1-5 and beat numbers typically 4/4 or 3/4 time and then to add to all of this we tell students a quarter note gets one beat and a half note gets 2 beats. So for now - fingering is thumb, pointer, middle, ring and pinkie. She knows those words and when I tell her we're going to count to four in each measure - she isn't so confused with all the numbers. If we ever get beyond the basic one hand playing, I will try to introduce the finger numbers again. Too many numbers confuses me sometimes too. 

piano lessons - beginning

One of the many things I do is teach piano. Over the past few weeks, a couple of my students have said I should write a book on the subject. What? Why? Sometimes I barely know what I'm doing myself. Well, that's not true exactly, I have played for over 40 years and took lessons for almost 15 years and have a minor in music. I don't play as well as I used too. My hands and fingers are stiff, but I do know the fundamentals and then some, but there are times when a student will ask me something or do something and I'm totally befuddled. It's those times I come up with my little gems.

This week's gems to add to the book which will be written at some point some time in the future.

I'm working with a woman who is confused about finger numbering.


 this is from pianoscales.org because I was lazy at this point and didn't want to make up my own chart. As you can see, the thumb is one and the fingers are numbered to 5 with the pinkie on both hands being 5.

My student wants to start with the left hand pinkie as 1 and count to 5 and then the right hand thumb being 1 again. So what we came up with is putting the numbers on the back of her fingers. But it's silly for her to walk around with numbers on her hands so I'm going to find band-aids - the spot ones and write the numbers on them and put them on her fingers. Problem solved. 

Of course it's my Fault

      Apparently, if anything goes wrong or not according to plan, it's my fault. The computer goes on the blink and it's my fault. Why? Because I'm the one who was using it and therefore I must have done something to cause it to stop working. Why? Because computers just don't stop working or wear out or accumulate cat hair that fries their inner workings. This particular computer was 5 years old and it turned out that it wasn't the computer, but the monitor. I usually leave the monitor on even if I have the computer in sleep mode so I suppose in a way, it really was my fault. I bought a new monitor and now when I'm done using my computer, I turn off the monitor.

     Last night was another example of how everything is always my fault. It was late and I had a long day at work. I taught two classes and gave a piano lesson. It was well after 9pm when I arrived at home. I was cold and coming down with something so a quick check of my e-mail and my work site and I headed to bed to read until my husband came home from work. By 10:30, I was falling asleep and so I didn't fight it.

 

     At 11:30 pm something woke me. I was confused and dazed coming out of a sound sleep. There was that noise again, in the distance. What was it? Oh, the doorbell! Who rings the doorbell at this time of night? Burglars? Nah...someone stranded? Maybe. I try to find some clothes to put on and stumble done the stairs. Now the ringing has stopped and there is pounding on the door.

 

    "Coming," I mumbled. I can see my husband standing outside on the top step. My sleepy brain not comprehending. I quickly open the door.

 

     "Jesus Christ, woman!" he barked, "Don't you ever answer your phone? My truck won't start and I locked my keys inside and you need to take me back to work so I can jump it."

 

     Now, why am I getting my head bit off? Why is this dilemna my fault?

     We get in my car and head off toward the factory.

    

     "Do you have the fob for my truck?"

 

     "No."

 

     "Jesus, then what's the point of going?"

 

     "I have a key." I sigh. We drive in silence across town. Just the sound of my coughing breaking the quietness.

 

     We pulled in and got his truck started and head back home. I didn't get a thank you or I'm sorry I yelled at you. But then, why would I? It's always my fault.

 

Beginning the hunt

For years now I've thought of myself as a genealogist, but I need to face the fact. I'm not. What I am, is an expert leaf clicker. I joined ancestry.com a couple of years ago and started happily clicking away. A leaf popped up "yeah" it looked right, click.

I had a family tree that stretched across the miles and generations and then I realized that ancestry.com wasn't perfect. GASP! I realized it depended on mere humans to enter the majority of information from their own sources and some of those people made MISTAKES!

For months, I had convinced my husband that somewhere in his family, there was a name change and he must be Hispanic. His surname is Hindes (pronounced Heinz), but on one census list the name became Mendez. Wow, a break through...something the family didn't know. It was wrong, someone had overly scripted handwriting. Back to the drawing board.

The more I searched the less satisfied I was with just names and dates of births and deaths and maybe a marriage or two. This family had some real characters and not only that they followed patterns. Grandpa married the housekeeper, so did the other grandpa and so did dad. By the way, we aren't getting a housekeeper. There is a pattern of multiple marriages - Great-grandpa was married four times, Grandma three times, other grandpa two times, dad three times and mom twice. I myself am wife number three.

I don't want the genealogy, I want the stories to go along with the names and dates and so I begin my hunt for Red October...no that's a movie, but I bet my search could lead to at least one if not more movies of the week.

So how do I go about this hunt, this search for people I don't know? One step at a time. I'm backing up and starting over. So that when I'm done, my husband's family will have the story of their family as well as the names and dates. No more random clicking. Everything must be documented, vetted and then carefully cataloged for accuracy. Don't believe anyone. So to begin with, I need to find a record of birth for my husband that proves when and where he was born and more importantly who his parents were. Yes, he was there, but he wasn't in any condition to remember it.

Another thing, as I record pertinent records, I will make copies of them and keep everything in a lock box for safe keeping. No sense in gathering all of these records only to lose them somewhere down the line. My next step will be in keeping the records in some type of readable, or at least organized manner. Maybe a scrapbook, maybe a written manuscript. But first, I'm off to the courthouse to look for birth records with my handy dandy little camera in case I can't get the records.