On the weekends, she plays piano at a French bakery, but Monday through Thursday she works at a school – not just any school – but a school of music. And because it is a school, staff and students have been wearing masks throughout all the long, dreary months of the pandemic. The school offers private lessons on any instrument you would expect. The school also has bands for all ages. There is a music together group for preschoolers taught by an educator of near grandfatherly age who also does his share of picking, strumming and slapping while leading adult bands of many genres. There is an instructor with a doctorate in music who spends his days with elementary groups and his evenings as the leader of adult bands; beginning, intermediate and advanced; always rehearsing to answer the call to play at the next available gig. In these bands are wanna-be-performers, used-to-be performers, and graying students who work day jobs as doctors, lawyers, executives, or retirees and spend their hobby money on big band instruments, keyboards, and guitars. Students of all ages come through the front door – close to 400 of them – and she greets them and gets to know them and asks about their day and their music. She knows them in their N95 masks and their bandanas and handmade and decorated masks, but mostly she knows them by the schedule they keep – the large spreadsheet that takes up the entire desktop of her 18-inch computer monitor – and doubles when scrolling to the right or left. There is the 93-year-old cracker jack drummer, now blind, still playing with a jazz band. There are the middle school and high school students who have been with this music school long enough to have established a reputation as smooth vocalists, up and coming keyboardists, shredding guitar players. There are the adults who assemble after hours to be in a band and leave snatches of conversation in their wake – opinions on music – not usually classical music – more often music and musicians of the 50s and 60s and 70s and 80s – and even the turn of the century – the one 22 years ago. She also knows them by their voice and personality and attitude – especially attitudes about music and other musicians.
Along about the first of March, the mask mandate ended in Colorado. Schools and communities began relaxing the requirement as COVID case numbers began dropping dramatically. Masks came off at the music school. At precisely 2:00 PM she reached for and released the loop from her left ear and removed the loop from her right. It was immensely liberating. It felt almost awkward for a few hours. Now she is greeting 400 or so strangers every week, people with noses and mouths and teeth and smiles. Some of these strangers are quite handsome, and some are homely. But she is glad, so glad she got to know what they were really like – kind, dashing, petulant, stubborn, accommodating – before she was distracted by appearances. And she is happy, so happy to remove her mask and let those other strangers see that she is truly smiling at them from behind the desk.
