Free Big Time by Tom; Ryan Page B

gotten to know at Lilac Grove, I’m reminded of his sad early days here, and I’m grateful once again for his guitar. The staff in the kitchen have baked him a special cake, and after we’ve watched him blow out the candles and everyone’s had a piece, Dina leans forward in her chair.
    â€œI can’t think of a better reason to break out a few songs, Nelson,” she says.
    â€œNo argument here,” he says.
    Jack runs to Granddad’s room to get his guitar, and when he comes back we all pull our chairs into a circle and spend the next hour or so enjoying a good old-fashioned sing-along. We run through some of the old songs I’ve heard Granddad play for as long as I can remember, and then other residents of the home begin shouting out requests. A lot of them aren’t his style, but Granddad seems to know them all, from jazz standards to wartime big band anthems to sixties folk songs. Nobody knows all the words to the songs, but it doesn’t matter—there are enough people who know various bits and pieces that the rest of us pick up what we can and the music keeps rolling along.
    I watch Granddad play one tune after another, amazed that he has so many chords and lyrics and melodies stored in his mind. At one point or another, he took the time to memorize each one of these songs, and now he’s able to access them, belt them out, share them with the world. Keith has the same kind of dedication and wants to learn as much as he can about music. It’s not just a skill or a hobby, it’s a passion. I’m starting to feel that way too.
    â€œHow about it, Gerri?” asks Granddad. I snap out of my daydream and realize that the music has stopped and everyone’s looking at me.
    â€œSorry, what did you ask?”
    â€œHow’s about doing a duet with your old granddad?” he asks. “One from the old days.”
    â€œI thought these were all from the old days,” says Jack, and everyone laughs.
    â€œSure, Granddad,” I say. “What were you thinking?”
    He starts playing and I recognize the song right away, and when he finishes the intro, I’m prepared to sing along with him.
    Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, I’m bound away
’Cross the wide Missouri …
    I expect people to pick up the words and begin to sing along as we get further into it, but everyone stays silent, letting the two of us sing this one together. I get so caught up in the music that I forget there’s anyone listening to us until the song ends and they break into loud applause. I glance over at my parents and am surprised to see them beaming—my dad’s eyes have even welled up with tears.
    It’s not like there are all that many people here, but it’s obvious that we’ve made an impact. I can’t imagine feeling any better if I’d just performed for a live studio audience.
    â€œI can’t remember you ever sounding even half as good as you did today, Gerri,” my mother says as we’re driving home.
    â€œIt was beautiful,” says Dad.
    â€œI’m just going to come out and say it,” says Mom. “I’m happy you didn’t get picked by Big Time . This choral group is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
    â€œThanks,” I say. “I’m learning a lot. I think I’ll be a lot more prepared for next year’s auditions.”
    â€œTyler says you guys have a show lined up,” says Jack. “What’s that all about?”
    Mom turns around, her eyes wide. “What?! Where? When?”
    â€œIt’s not really a show,” I tell them. “We’re going to perform a couple of songs at an open mic downtown. It’s not a big deal.”
    â€œYou bet it’s a big deal,” says Dad. “As if you weren’t going to tell your parents about your first public performance!”
    The