Turning the Page

Sixteen out of the last twenty days doing the work I know and love some six hours each day, first in Hong Kong, then in Vietnam. Eight schools, some 50 classes with over a thousand kids. Three workshops with some 200 teachers. I’ve been busy in this life of the “retired” music teacher and so happily so. 

 

Now turning the page to the next chapter. Returning home tomorrow without a single adult workshop or music class with kids on the calendar for the next 11 weeks. Back to a different version of self who walks in the park, practices piano, cooks meals, gathers with friends and family and perhaps gets to work on a next book. I enjoy this fellow also, but as health and happiness testify, stepping fully into the skin, muscles and bones of “music teacher” is so clearly what I was born for, what effortlessly (after 50 years of effort) brings out the best in me, makes me feel the most useful and still needed and of service to the world. 

 

But now, here I am in Ho Chi Minh City. Last night was an exquisite dinner with the lovely Orff Vietnam board, the food not only delicious, but so artfully presented, making flowers out of carrots and such. From there, we went on to a Bebop Club jazz show. Downtown last night was overflowing with the Saturday night crowd—families, young folks, teens and kids alike out strolling. My host pointed out the iconic buildings from that horrific time of the U.S. involvement in the war, now changed to the invasion of McDonald’s and Starbucks and such. 

 

Vietnam is clearly a different place from Hong Kong! Hot, for one, and the first time I’ve worn my shorts and short-sleeved shirt. Much, much cheaper with an extraordinary currency where a $500,000 bill equals about $25 U.S.. The trafficked dance of motorbikes that is like some proof of Chaos Theory—what appears unordered and chaotic anarchy has some hidden pattern inside that somehow works. We passed a youth demonstration somewhere and I heard stories of the government having to approve the content of kids’ music concerts. 

 

But who am I to criticize another government when mine is doing what it’s doing? I’m perfectly aware a government is not its people, but I’ve never felt so much shame admitting where I’m from. There I was last night listening to this Vietnamese singer covering familiar and beloved jazz standards, that beautiful gift the most oppressed Americans have given to the world and feeling so strong the contrast between who we have been, who we might (still) become and who we are now. It is maddening, to say the least, and I know I’m far from alone in living with such extreme contradictions. 

 

Meanwhile, the earth still turns, another day dawns and while I can’t wholly embrace at the moment the “Feelin’ Good” song last night’s singer sang with so much passion, I am feeling the afterglow of yesterday’s workshop with some 60 Vietnamese teachers and the hunger they felt for the fun, creativity, intelligence and powerful music the Orff approach can unleash. Out to the streets now before heading to the airport and we shall see what awaits.