Seeing You Play

A musical extravaganza presented by long-time piano teacher, Patricia Henry, was performed last Friday night and Saturday afternoon to the delight of several hundred attendants. Somehow, Patricia Henry manages to pull off the seemingly impossible, assembling dozens of her former students, music club members, and others to perform musical selections using multiple pianos, keyboards, an organ, as well as a handful of orchestral instruments. Doing so once would be an achievement, but Patricia is up to about a half-dozen such performances over the past dozen years.

As my daughter, Rayanne Adams, is one of a select and talented group of pianists chosen to perform, I always look forward to Patricia’s programs. Rayanne’s childhood best friend, Mignon Montgomery Williamson, another pianist beaming with talent, is also a member of the core group of pianists upon which Patricia bills as her musical extravaganzas.

Because Rayanne and Mignon were practically inseparable in their youth, Mignon’s father and I came to think of each other’s daughter as one of our own family. The years of separation since their youth have weakened that bond of friendship and association, but I still think of the two as sisters and am proud of the accomplishments of each one.

Patricia knows she can count on certain individuals to stay together when playing as a group, and she asks her other talented players, who have less experience in group performances, to listen to her core players in order to keep time, musically. The end result, in my mind, is that of listening to a single great piano being played.

My daughter and Mignon often played piano duets for First Baptist Church in their young years. It was especially gratifying to see them perform similarly in Patricia’s musical extravaganza, and I admit to being proud of their solo selections as well.

For the greater part of her music life, starting at age five, Rayanne has been unflappable with regard to performing before an audience. But, I witnessed her worrying about being “good enough” for the first time as she struggled to master certain pieces while doing all the usual activities as a wife and mother, maintaining a job, being involved in the music program of her church, and trying to plan her eldest daughter’s wedding.

A number of individuals sought out Rayanne after the two performances to express their appreciation for the program and to comment on how much they enjoyed “seeing her play.” It was the “seeing her play” phrase that gave her pause to wonder what she might be doing with her actions to call attention to herself, something team players seek to avoid. We, her family, attempted to explain what we felt others were expressing.

“Rayanne, folks just recognize your ability to express yourself in your music. That’s what they mean by ‘seeing you play,’” we consoled.

In ordering several DVD copies of the music program through a company under contract with Patricia, I had the opportunity to discuss the music program at length with Patricia in the privacy of her home.

I asked her take on “seeing you play,” which she explained, thusly, with regard to her students, “What I’ve always told them is when you’re playing, your fingers are doing the talking and singing the song for you. And, you’ve got to play it like you mean what the words are saying in the song that you’re playing. And, I’ve always told them that they’re not a robot. That if you mash a button on a robot it does the same thing, same tone, but we’re human, and it’s a lot of difference when a human stands up and sings, and they put feeling into their face and in the way they do their voice. Well, you’ve got to do that with your fingers when you’re playing; you’ve got to put your feeling in.”

Apparently, Rayanne has gotten good enough at putting feeling into her music that it’s recognized by others. Certainly other players have similar abilities and they, too, develop distinctive styles of playing and expression, but it’s nice to know others see what I see in Rayanne’s creative expressions in music.

Musical talent seems to flow through the Carter bloodline, but my portion is far less than that of my son and daughter. Jason is an outstanding guitarist and singer. His genre of choice is the Blues, but he’s comfortable doing certain country classics. Both my children play well in their respective arenas and as far as I can tell, folks enjoy “seeing them play.”

Note: Photos from 1981 and 2011.

The Cricket's Tale

As Founder and President of People for the Ethical Treatment of Crickets (PETC), I hear of all kinds of cricket abuse. Crickets suffer dismemberment from small children. Children sometimes simply squash them for their sadistic pleasure, and it’s not uncommon to hear of children sealing them in old mayonnaise jars and let them suffocate.

Some of the tales told to me by crickets will chill you to the bone. Once a mature cricket told me how, as a young chirper, he and several of his friends were captured and imprisoned in a wire cage. They ended up in a fishing boat, where fishermen were using them as fish bait. Fish bait, can you believe it?

He watched as his friends were taken from the cage and impaled with barbed fish hooks and tossed overboard, presumably to attract fish. For him, the worst part was the looks on his friends’ faces as they were skewered. He, though, was a lucky cricket.

One of the fishermen failed to secure the door of his wire cage, and he slipped out, unnoticed, and swam to safety. Well, relative safety, as there are almost as many dangers facing a cricket as there are crickets.

Recently, a field worker for PETC brought in a black cricket that had become a pale gray due to a harrowing near-death experience. That which follows is a partial transcript of our recorded conversation.

“How may I help you, my good cricket?”

“For starters, you can let your people know, that I'm not out to harm them.”

“Well, that is part of our mission. Have you had a people problem?”

“No, not unless, you count a people-person trying to kill me ‘a problem.’”

“Kill you? Surely, not!”

“Oh yeah! I was on my way over the hill to see Gladys last Saturday evening.”

“Gladys?”

“Yeah, Gladys. She’s a slim-legged broad, er…excuse me, a slim-legged dolly-cricket, who lives about five cricket miles from me. Rather than walk around a people-house, I always prefer to work my way through it. When I got to the den, I noticed two people-persons sitting in comfortable chairs.”

“So you were trespassing?”

“Perhaps, but I’d call it taking a short cut. Anyway, I got about halfway across the carpeted floor when the woman-person jumped up and ran toward me.”

“Did you assume a threatening stance, or rear-up on your hind legs or show any sign of aggression?”

“Of course not! I simply stopped and sat very still. But, she started yelling to the man-person and took off a shoe and raised it high over me like she was going to drop it on me.”

“What did you do?”

“I prayed a quick prayer as she bent down closer to me. Then, with her shoe hand she tried to pin me to the carpet. My prayer must have been answered as I was temporarily given a state of super agility. Well, that or my adrenalin kicked in, and I kicked myself quickly away as the shoe landed where I had been. She may have been praying to her people-god, ‘cause she was pretty quick, too. She took a couple or more big shoe-slams at me before I hid out under a big chair.”

“So, you were saved by a chair?”

“In a way, yes. You see, she got the man-person to help pick up one side of the chair as she tried again to club, no, shoe me to death. But, I kept running from side to side, using the chair for cover. All of a sudden the man-person stood up, then fell back down on the chair and rolled into the floor. He was out cold for a minute or two in cricket time. I don’t know what happened to him, but the woman-person started tending to him and forgot about me. I made a dash for the grillwork around the fireplace and on to safety. I can honestly say, Gladys never looked so good as she did last Saturday night.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through such an ordeal, and I’m not condoning the violence on the part of my people, but you must realize that until we here at PETC can educate people to treat crickets in a humane and ethical manner, crickets should avoid all contact with people.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I bet I could have taken her, if it had been just her and me.”

Obviously, my work as President of PETC is incomplete. Both humans and crickets have a long way to go before harmonious co-existence is achieved. But, it is my hope that this tale will in some small measure advance the cause of PETC. And, please remember…there were crickets before there were people.

~ By Wayne “Cricket” Carter, President PETC