JUANITA JONES AND THE SAXOPHONE

So, now it is 2019.  Sarah and Ali have been married for five years and live in Baltimore, MD in a row house with a community of people.  It is a structured environment with guidelines for composting, eating (vegetarian), maintaining the premises, and potential community work.

Sarah and Ali own the home and work hard to integrate into the community--reaching out to those around them.  Ali teaches Math at a local high school and after teaching in a charter school in Washington, DC for five years, Sarah taught in the Baltimore Public Schools for two years and is now ready to deliver their first child.  In order to understand where I am in this picture, I kind of need to backtrack to where I have been.  I would like to do that by sharing a story I told at a recent storytelling event...

I sat across the table from my good friend Pat who was sharing with me her extreme sadness at losing her beloved grandmother.  Tears slid down Pat's cheeks as she shared her pain.

Now, my brain knew that this was SAD information, but I could feel a smile tickling the corners of my mouth.

"No, Lori!" I said to myself, "Do NOT laugh!  This is very sad.  It is NOT funny!"  But, of course within 20 seconds, I was laughing hysterically.  A look of confusion passed over Pat's face as I continued to internally berate myself for my reaction.  Finally, I was able to switch to the equally inappropriate response of sobbing uncontrollably.  Pat quietly left my house without a word.  Joan, a middle-aged woman from our church, came to me and laid her hand on my shoulder.  "It's okay," she said quietly.

You see, Joan was the lady from the church who had signed up to be with me and my children on this day.  The church where Michael was serving had thrown us a huge baby shower only four months earlier to welcome our 3 month son from South Korea and the daughter I gave birth two only three weeks after he arrived to our home.  The children were four months apart to the day and at the ages of six months and 2 months, I, their mother, had suffered a major stroke at age 27 and now needed daily care not only for herself but also for her two children.

So, it wasn't like I didn't understand about loss.  No, I knew loss.  I had lost the use of my left side, my ability to read, my ability to compute numbers and my ability to discern happy from sad, safe from unsafe, good from bad.  I felt like I had lost everything.  With those losses came rules for daily living.
..."NO, you cannot bathe your children if you are home alone--they might drown."
..."NO, you cannot cross the street by yourself--you can't tell when it is safe."
..."NO, you cannot take your children for a walk around the block by yourself--you might get lost."
..."NO, you cannot hold your baby girl without supervision--you might forget to support her head"

At this time of my life, my favorite part of the day was when I could sit with my babies and watch Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, because he liked me the way I was.  I was quite sure he was the ONLY one who did.

Yes, I felt as though I had lost everything.  I had lost Lori.  I had lost me.

But then, there was Juanita Jones.  Juanita Jones was an older lady from our church who approached me one Sunday morning with these words.

"Lori," she said, "I've been watching you and I'm a little worried about you.  You are so sad and you seem lost.  So, I would like to help you.  I would like for you to think of something that would bring happiness to your life that you would like to do for YOU and I will pay for it for as long as you want to do it."

Now, if someone said this to me today, my inhibitions would kick in and I would respond with, 'Oh, you don't have to worry about me--I will be fine.'  But, I had just had a major stroke--I had NO inhibitions.  "Ok!" I replied, beyond excited, "I will think about it and get back to you!"  So, I went home from church that day with a beautiful gift of anticipation and potential.  This was for ME!  She trusted me to choose!

I thought about this offer for a week or so and finally decided what I wanted more than anything else in the world.   Now, I'm sure when Juanita Jones made this offer, she thought I would choose something like...a manicure or pedicure every week, a babysitter once a week for a month or a year, or maybe at the most a cruise with Michael.  So, I had decided and I was excited to share with Juanita Jones what my decision was.

"I decided what I would like to do," I said to her the next week at church.
"I want to learn to play the saxophone."

I saw a sparkle in Juanita's eyes as she listened to my dream.  To her credit, she did NOT say, "Lori, wait a minute.  Let's think about this...you just had a major stroke.  You can't use your left side, you can't read words, let alone notes, You can't compute numbers, how are you going to keep a beat?  you are weak all over, oh and by the way, my dear, here is a tissue to wipe the drool from the left side of your chin."  No, she didn't say any of that.  She looked straight into my eyes and said gently, "Okay.  I will rent you a saxophone, I will find you a teacher, and I will pay for it as long as you want to take lessons."

What a gift!  I'm not even sure what my teacher thought when I walked into my first lesson with the saxophone already hanging around my neck so he wouldn't see me struggle to put it on.  During my first lesson, my teacher taught me some breathing exercises, showed me how to clean the instrument, showed me how to hold it properly, and briefly showed me specific notes.  I was so excited.  I went home and practiced my breathing exercises, cleaned my instrument any time I had a spare moment and even blew a few notes.  What a gift!!  This was mine and no one could say I was doing it wrong.  There were no rules--this was for me!

At my third lesson, my teacher asked me, "Lori, what is your goal here?"  and without hesitation, I answered, "I want to play Jazz."  He smiled, walked to the back of his little studio and pulled a book off the shelf.  It was probably an inch and a half thick and had the word JAZZ splashed across the front of it in large black letters.  Handing me the book, he said, "That is perfect for you because jazz is all about attitude when you play the song--not fancy songs."

I took that book home and practiced the songs inside--songs like "Row, Row, Row your boat," "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,"  "Happy Birthday,"  "London Bridge," and "A bicycle built for two"  and I practiced a often!

Now, I never was very good at the saxophone in the four months I took lessons, but something happened every time I blew a note or held that instrument.  Every time I blew a note, I felt a part of me coming back, eventually I could read again.  As I played music, my math skills started to come back, with each song I played, a part  of me came back.  Pretty soon I could discern happy from sad again, I could discern safe from unsafe, I felt pieces of me coming back.  With each note, I was finding ME again...thanks to Juanita Jones and the saxophone.