The Landlord's Assistant, Part 8: Show Time
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Sandra Tsing Loh chauffeurs her 89-year-old dad from nap to nap.
As I’ve been saying, my Parkinson’s-suffering, leafy-fragile, 89-year-old dad lives for one thing – his Wednesday singing class at Emeritus College in Santa Monica. Which he asked me to start driving him to. Which I figured he slept through, just like he sleeps through his weekly UCLA neuroscience lectures.
Basically my job is to chauffeur my dad from nap to nap. At this rate, why not throw in the Getty? I hear they have a great new Rembrandt exhibit all the 89-year-olds are sleeping through.
But as soon as we arrive, I realize I have been entirely wrong. First of all, as a parent who sends her kids to public school in Van Nuys, to me Emeritus College looks like a Ritz-Carlton. It’s all blond wood and glass and dang it if the seniors' singing class doesn’t feature a brand new grand piano.
Partly due to the generosity of – get out – my own dad, whose name is engraved on the front plaque as a donor! No money to his granddaughter's school where a typical musical presentation features the kids singing karaoke on an outdoor weed-choked cement circle – never mind! Eckhardt Tolle! Power of Now!
But I soon see why my dad has to... stake his claim. An elder singing class – I was expecting frail codgers on walkers singing Kumbaya. But no, the singing teacher Bill is a pro who worked with Perry Como, the crack pianist Gary can not just sightread any score you put in front of him – a few bars in he can say, "Oh Dolores, I think a better key for you is A, two steps down–" And off Gary goes, seamlessly transposing.
And such snappy numbers the seniors bring, all on neatly Xeroxed sheet music. With their stylish vests and their scarves and the flowers in their hair! "To Dream the Impossible Dream," "It Had to to Be You," "That Old Devil Moon," "Night Into Day," "Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina!" Some are suspiciously expert performers, with polished opening patter: "In 1927, there was a film starring Al Jolson called The Jazz Singer. The film was noted for–"
And here I am standing with my violin, that I’ve only played for two years, that my dad told me to bring, looking for the first time at the piece I had no idea he was planning to sing. A terrifying aria from Eugene Onegin, an opera I’m not particularly familiar with, with lyrics in Russian – that means literally in Cyrillic, in the key of D flat – that’s five flats – which, well, let me put it this way – is really, really bad for the violin. There is not an open string you can hit that won’t be a train wreck.
In short, we are outclassed! Or are we? Gary strikes the opening chord. Off we go!
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