I thought my friend’s suggestion was great, so set about picking out the five tunes I enjoyed the most. I soon realised what an utterly impossible task this was. It was totally unthinkable! If I looked at the various shows that I love, singers I adore, tunes that have entered my heart – how do I select my five favourites??? I can’t and I defy any music lover to do so. What I am going to do is choose five songs that mean a lot to me and I’ll explain why. Just know that tomorrow I could well select a different five. Music affects and is affected by your mood. Here are my mood choices for today…… (Press each record title to play the song!)

Dad was transferred to England for two years in 1966. Mums was cooking when the song Puppet on a String came on the radio. I have this vivid memory of Mums gooning around for us kids. She had a wooden spoon in her hand which she was using as a microphone: ‘I wonder if one day that you say that you care, if you say you love me madly, I’ll gladly be there, like a puppet on a string…’
We laughed and joined in singing this wonderful song about a puppet. Apparently, the singer, Sandie Shaw, sang it in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1967. She appeared barefoot on stage and moved with a sunny type of innocence.
Today I still know every word of that song and I remember two children and their mother laughing together in an English kitchen…..

Sound of Music  came out in 1965 and I was taken to see it when I was seven years old. I was completely hooked from the moment I saw Julie Andrews as Maria striding across that mountain meadow. She stopped, her face filled with wonder and joy, opened her mouth and The hills are alive with the sound of music came tumbling out and entered my life. Fifty-one year’s later, that is one of my favourite bits of film and that music is playing now from my iPad. I laughed when I read that when filming that particular piece, Julie Andrews braced herself for each shot. It was futile! The down draft from the helicopter in which the director, Robert Wise, was filming, would knock her over. After more than a dozen takes, she tried to hand signal the helicopter to make a wider pass. The response she got was a thumbs-up. The director was finally satisfied with the shot.

I was a weekly boarder in 197172 in Durban. Every weekend I would go to my aunt and uncle’s home where I would spend two wonderful days before being taken back to school on Sunday evening. They have four daughters who became like sisters to me. One weekend, I took ‘home’ a guitar that I had been loaned by a fellow boarder. I painstakingly played a song I had learned, The Unicorn. Anne and Margs, my cousins, were utterly fascinated and so swopping the guitar between us, I taught them to play it. The next day, we returned from a friend’s home to be told by my aunt, that my uncle had a surprise for us. We walked into the lounge to see three guitars sitting there, beckoning to us. John had so loved the fact that the three of us had learned to play The Unicorn on the guitar, that he had promptly bought us each our own. We had a recording of Des and Dawn Lindberg singing that song. Now we too could play it! I have just listened to that recording and my heart smiles at the memory of three children eagerly swopping a guitar. I played my guitar until I had my fall. Thank you, Des and Dawn, for that song, that wonderful memory and indirectly for starting me off on an incredibly happy period in my life, my guitar playing.

When I came home for the Christmas holidays, naturally my guitar accompanied me. I recall evening braais on the farm. We would finish eating and someone would say: “C’mon, Gaye, out with the guitar!”
Under our beautiful Belhambra tree, beneath a sky cluttered with stars, I would caress my guitar and sing. On those evenings, I would play my father’s favourite, Both Sides Now. He would sit, soaking up what he was hearing and the emotion would always seep out of his eyes in slow, rolling tears. Not being able to play my guitar now, somehow that song had disappeared from my life. Until just recently, I discovered Joni Mitchell singing it. And my darling Dad came rolling into the forefront of my mind. I had forgotten how much that song meant to me. What it still means to me. I sat in my lounge, rejoicing in the song with hot tears pouring down my cheeks.

I had my fall and entered a deaf, dark, shadowed world. It was a world where music didn’t dare strike a chord.
“Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear,” said Ludwig van Beethoven.
How closely I identified with him. It was a place where the echoes of a cell door blocked out the chorus of life itself. It felt as if I had to gingerly make my way along the debris of my existence. 

About eighteen months later, my parents were holding a big party on the farm. They held it outside in a massive open sided shed. Everyone was dancing and having a marvellous time. I wasn’t dancing. I wasn’t much good at it anymore. I had a glass of wine in my hand and was just enjoying watching the festivities. Suddenly Mums called out:
“Gaynor, they are playing your song, Thank you for the Music.”
I just adored that Abba song.
“Where are they up to, Mums?”
I had jumped off my bale of straw, my wine forgotten. My Mums and Dad had moved towards me and both were singing the song, mouthing the words clearly.
“….who found out that nothing can capture a heart like a melody can…”
“Well, whoever it was, I’m a fan…” my marvellously off key voice joined in. Mums slipped out of Dad’s arms and he came to me. Gently he moved me onto the dance floor. We simply swayed with me watching his mouth clearly.
“…..Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honest
What would life be without a song or a dance
What are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me….”
That song holds a special place in my heart. I will always remember my dance with Dad.
Thank you for that music!

In 2007, I had my first Cochlear Implant. With that, the world drew me into it once more.
I could hear music again! My identification with Beethoven was a thing of the past. My much loved music was back! Even better, I started listening to music that was totally new to me. Eva Cassidy is a singer who I fell in love with. Her songs are all wonderful. I look at the lyrics of I Can Only Be Me.
But how many times have you wished you were some other
Someone than who you are
Yet who’s to say that if all were uncovered
You will like what you see?
You can only be you
As I can only be me

So this Gaynor, who can only be me has now selected six songs instead of the five I originally intended. I could go on and on and on. Music for me, is something I now breathe.
How true are Friedrich Nietzsche words when he says:
“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

The post Songs of My Heart! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

He would drum at the kitchen table when he should have been hurrying for school. He would drum on the counter while his mum got the food out for lunch. And he would drum out a tune when he took a shower.
His world was filled with ‘the beat’.

It blows my mind that Nathan didn’t become a drummer. Yet being a drummer would have limited him. There was too much on his mind that he wanted to say. Where better does a man ‘with a beat’ say the things he wants to say, than on a piano. With his voice!
At the age of fourteen, he began picking out tunes on the piano. He would hear a song that caught his attention on the radio and he would re-create it on the piano. It was when he got to the  University of Virginia, that he began creating his own songs.

In his fourth year at College, Nathan released his debut EP – Barricades.
He says: “Songwriting was super new to me. It was kind of an intimidating process because I wasn’t sure how my music would be received by my family and also by others that would hear it. I would rewrite songs the morning before recording, which is terrible. All in all, it was very ‘shooting from the hip.’ I would go into the studio and have 45 minutes to get everything done for a song, and I would crank it out.
And,” he laughed in a slightly self conscious way, “ my family for whom I made it, simply loved it. It got shared with others and it was really a good feeling having a stranger come up to you and say ‘Hey, I enjoyed your music. Thanks!’”

After my fall, when I went back onstage in my one woman show, My Plunge to Fame, I felt very exposed. I didn’t have the ‘safety net’ of acting behind a character. What I was presenting was ‘me!’ in all it’s fragile vulnerability. In the same way, sharing the deeper parts of himself is something that Nathan doesn’t find easy. His music often speaks of the things that tear a little inside. As he says:
“It feels like everyone has seen into you when they hear your music. They see the raw emotion I am singing about. What I remind myself is that people connect over that raw downheartedness. Everyone knows it. Often people keep it bottled inside. So when they hear my music, they identify with it.”

Nathan Colberg’s lyrics are out of this world! They are transparent, showing a person openly revealing so much of himself.
“I think as a songwriter I would love to be someone like Bob Dylan or Kris Kristofferson who wind up influencing a generation of other songwriters after them. I look up to them because of their writing style; simple, but profound lyrics that seem to hit the core of what it means to be human,” says Nathan.
“What’s funny about my music is that it’s very different from how I interact in person. A lot of times, it’s a dive into some of the more sensitive, personal, emotional and spiritual issues that I’m trying to wrestle with, and trying to make sense of that through music. Music is a great outlet for that.”

I listened to his latest CD Silo. A whole gamut of emotions opened up to me.
The words of his song The Giver are magical.

Take me down, down to the giver
All my love is caught in the winter’s hold
Like every time before
I asked God
Will you remember me once I’ve
Fallen from the treetops that I’ve climbed
Trying to be just like you
Melody, neither a note nor harmony
Can unlock the song I long to be
I’ve sung it all before
The art in me is simply remembering to be
Nothing but a note in symphony
With everyone before

I love those last three lines:
The art in me is simply remembering to be
Nothing but a note in symphony
With everyone before

Doesn’t that say so much? We are all notes in a symphony, aren’t we? I hope that at the end of my life, my symphony is melodic and pleasing to the ear. I can only continue to try building up to a symphony and casting away any wrong and ugly notes that I have mistakenly included.

Why Silo, I wondered?
He explained that there is an old silo on his parents property. Nathan often goes there to be alone or play the guitar in peace. It has been beautifully sketched on the cover of his CD by Henry Barrett Jones.

In March 2017, he completed a kickstarter campaign that funded the entire making of Silo. Two hundred and fifty eight people contributed over $18,000 to complete the project. You can imagine the gratitude he felt as his making of Silo grew wings and began to fly. Since then, he has  invested a large percentage of his own savings into creating more music. The musical butterfly sits there, it’s wings lifting slowly as Nathan’s creativity stirs it to flight.

When writing songs, where does he get his inspiration from, I wonder?
Ideas play around in his mind desiring to spring out onto the keyboard and into his voice.
“A song could be about something that someone close to me is going through that resonates within. It could be about some sort of spiritual thought or question going round in my mind. It might be about a phase of life, or could even be a song written from someone else’s perspective. I think that’s what I enjoy about the song writing process: the inspiration is continually changing.”

What I so admire about this young artist is his passion for his music. I look at a performer like Ed Sheeran. He too is passionate with his music and it took him from a street busker to a man entertaining millions of people. What is to stop Nathan’s musical career from going in a similar direction? It is all a case of a ‘lucky break’!

Speaking about luck, I have not mentioned till now, how incredibly fortunate I am. Nathan is my much adored cousin’s son. He lives America but that is merely an air flight away! I would love to see Nathan, that big grin on his face, performing live. Who knows what the future may hold?

In March 2018, Nathan’s debut music video See again was produced. Nathan literally handed over the song to Jethro Westraad, who he knew and trusted and Jethro ran with it! He filmed it on the shores of Cape Town, a place that Nathan adores. You can see and hear Nathan and Jethro’s amazing work by simply pressing here!

What a joy not only to be able to read Nathan’s lyrics, to be able to see his moving music video but now, thanks to my Cochlear Implants, I am able to listen to his voice caressing the lyrics into wondrous sound.

Ahhh, I am truly blessed!

The post The Giver! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

I love theatre! 

I love drama, comedy, dance and musicals. Theatres that are rapidly filling up for a performance of a musical are entrancing. The audience, waiting with mounting anticipation for the curtain to rise and the music to begin! 

I have always loved musicals. How well I know the music from: Oklahoma, Sound of Music, Phantom of the Opera, Half A Sixpence, Cats, Les Miserable! To name but a few!  I was recently told by Tammy Bonell Garner that I drove from Johannesburg to Durban with Gaby Lomberg and herself to see March of the Falsettos. Apparently, we played Les Miserables and sang the whole way. My fall has wiped that particular memory clean, but it explains why I know every single word of that production. After having my Cochlear Implants, I watched the film of Les Miserables. The song, On My Own, reduced me to tears. How wonderful it is to be able to enjoy music once more!

Recently whilst in England, my best friend, B told me that we were going to see Miss Saigon. How utterly marvellous to see a Cameron Mackintosh musical! Only I didn’t know the music at all. I was puzzled by this. Why didn’t I know that musical, I wondered? I knew Phantom of the Opera, Cats and Les Miserables. Why not Miss Saigon? I discovered it had opened on the 30th September 1989. I had my fall and became deaf in December 1989. 

That explained it.

In the afternoon, B sat down next to me, her iPad in hand.

“I wanted to make your Miss Saigon experience really special, so I emailed Cameron Mackintosh and…”

“You emailed WHO?” I exclaimed in this over loud, disbelieving voice.

“Well, Cameron Mackintosh Productions. I wrote this:”

Hi there,

I am taking my best friend, Gaynor Young, to your production of Miss Saigon at the Theatre Royal in Norwich on Monday, 20th August.

She is visiting the U.K. from South Africa. Gaynor was a professional actress. She had a tragic accident whilst performing the lead role of Camelot at the State Theatre, Pretoria in South Africa. You can learn more about her at www.earearblog.com/about and via this YouTube link https://youtu.be/rL-ZfEZsbtc

I wonder if you might be able to do anything that would make Gaynor’s Miss Saigon experience just a little more special.

Thanks, in anticipation

Barbara Royce

And, B got this response:

 Dear Barbara,

 Thank you for getting in touch with us about Gaynor. What an incredible woman!

 We’d love to invite you both to a back stage tour of the show after the performance if that is of interest? When convenient please feel free to get in touch with our company manager, and he will provide more details.

 Best regards,

 Rob 

On the 20th August, the Theatre Royal, Norwich was packed and there was an excited buzz of anticipation amongst the audience. A sense of people knowing that they were in for something special; a treat was in store. The feeling seemed to hover in the air, simmering and cracking amongst us as we found our seats. The curtain went up, the simmering and cracklings ignited and what an incredible production flamed before us. 

Miss Saigon is a moving tale of love in a war ravaged country.

At the centre is the violent impact of two differing cultures. There is the West’s uncouth captivation with the East. The sense that the East thinks and feels differently to ‘us’. The West often disregards Eastern beliefs and is ignorant of it’s culture. This exotic racism is a popular theme in musicals. Apparently a contemporary playwright announced in despair: “Theatre in the West End is pathetic as far as politics goes. The only thing you can see are musicals!”

Yes, a lot of theatre in the West End comprises of musicals but, as Miss Saigon illustrates, musicals are often extremely political! It is just they have their own way of highlighting political issues. Think of: Les Miserables, Cabaret, Sound of Music, The King and I, West Side Story. All of these productions are political. It is just that musicals have you tapping your feet as it creatively pushes a political truth home. Miss Saigon speaks of facts that are as present today as they have always been. Loss, prejudice, love, bullying, racism are all themes that strike a resounding note in this musical.

Our eyes, brains and spirits feasted on what was displayed onstage that night.

I remembered my sister, Liz, telling me about her experience of seeing Miss Saigon in London during the 90’s. She and her friend, Julie, had set off for the theatre. They were running late and Julie said: “I know I’m not meant to go down this street, but it will get us there so much quicker.”

No sooner had she began shooting down a one way street, than she heard the police siren behind them.

“Officer,” she said, bursting into tears, “I am so sorry. My friend and I have just finished work and we’re late for Miss Saigon. I am so frightened we will miss it. That was why we turned down this road.”

“It’s a wonderful show,” the policeman said. “Follow me, I’ll get you there in time.”

On went his siren and he flew ahead with Julie and Liz close behind. Arriving there, he shouted:

“Enjoy the show!” and disappeared.

The drama continued for Liz that night! Towards the end of the first half, there is an actual helicopter that literally lands onstage to fly the American soldiers out of Vietnam. Except, during Liz’s helicopter’s landing, there was a massive explosion and the helicopter toppled onto it’s side in a tangled heap. The big iron safety curtain came down on a horrified audience. The show came to an unprecedented, abrupt halt. The audience were all given tickets to see the show on another night. A few nights later, Liz said the helicopter landed and took off beautifully! On our night though, there was no actual helicopter. The stage must be too small, I thought. They had a wonderful 3D projection of a helicopter that was extremely vivid and real.

After the standing ovation, B and I made our way backstage. I was hoping that all the performers had already left. I didn’t want to be a ‘backstage gawker’. I needn’t have worried. I had forgotten the backstage rush to leave and relax with friends in the bar. Waiting to meet us was the assistant production manager, Sasha, and her husband, James, the stage manager. We told them how incredibly moving we had found the show. They apologised for not having the helicopter land onstage. James explained, as I had guessed, that the area backstage was too small to for the ‘usual’ helicopter.  We were amazed to learn that on tour it took nineteen lorries to move the sets of Miss Saigon. So far, he had stage managed four hundred and eighty eight shows!

Chatting to James about coming from South Africa, he mentioned that five years ago, he had assisted Artscape in Cape Town on Sound of Music. He fell totally in love with the place and recently took his new wife, Sasha, there on honeymoon.  

Lying in bed that night, I pondered the fact that politics rear their head in every walk of life….family arguments, sports fields, schools, acting, dance and musicals! In his productions political statements give added depth to Cameron Mackintosh’s wonderful creations. By bringing these musicals to life, Cameron Mackintosh, not only gives huge pleasure to millions of people but political insight rains down on everyone.

As my eyes closed, I thought: I must get the CD of Miss Saigon. I want to listen to it again and again. Like Cats, Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables, I want to know that music. I want to be able to sing it to myself as I go about my day.

I want it in me.

Miss Saigon photographs courtesy of Cameron Mackintosh Productions

The post Musical Politics! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

I watched the dancers moving to a music I could no longer hear.
Their bodies swayed and moved to a hidden beat. There was laughter, hand clapping, stamping and twirling. I wished that I still possessed a little of the grace I used to have. I would have enjoyed to have been a part of that wonderful riotous melee. Suddenly Mums came across to me and mouthed: “They are playing one of your favourite songs!”
“Which one?”
“Thank You for the Music,” was the response.
“Oh, Mums, I love that song. Where are they up to?”
I watched my mother’s mouth closely.
“…I’m so grateful and proud, all I want is to sing it out loud. So I say, thank you for the…
“…music, the songs I’m singing, thanks for all the joy they’re bringing…” I sang along joyfully to a music that played clearly in my heart. Outside was silence.
My darling Dad gently put his arms around me and we swayed together. Mums continued singing:”Who could live without it, I ask in all honesty, what would life be, without a song or a dance, what are we…”
“So I say, thank you for the music, for giving it to me…” I sang tunelessly to a long remembered song. There was a joyous smile on my face as I sang for what had once been.

I met Jenny Perold, my audiologist, and into that silent world, the word ‘Cochlear Implant’ began to reverberate. Life began to stir in what had been dead for the past eighteen years. Cochlear Implants pushed open the door to my world and said: COME IN AND DANCE!!!

This year is the tenth anniversary of my first Cochlear Implant.
I entered the world of sound and was initially totally deafened! Cars whizzed past with a high pitched roar. People shouted to each other in the supermarket. Dad’s spoon made a thunderous clunk as he stirred his coffee. The child slurped his milkshake down in an ear splitting way. I dropped a knife on the floor and the echo reverberated in a massive clang around my kitchen. Spencer, my cockatiel, chattered softly to himself in trumpet shattering tones.

I had to learn to re-hear my world. Hearing a strange sound, I would have to recognise what was causing it. Then my brain would compartmentalise it. The next time that sound occurred, my brain would rifle through the compartments, find the sound and slot it neatly into it’s allocated place. The cars stopped whizzing in high pitched roars. They drove past with their normal purr. Dad’s spoon no longer clunked. It merely stirred his coffee. A child drinking his milkshake is now a delightful sight to me. Alas, Spencer’s chatter can still verge on the trumpet shattering scale. Fortunately I love trumpets and I am mad about my bird!

I had my second Cochlear Implant in my ear that wasn’t hearing a thing. We weren’t sure whether there were any nerves working in my left ear. That was the side on which I landed when I fell. But lo and behold, I have been granted sound on that side too. So now I am a person that hears with both her ears. I am bilateral!!!

While I have been writing this it has been storming outside. Perdita, my dachshund, has been cowering under the bed in sheer terror. I, on the other hand, have just been glorying in the fact that I am not only able to smell the rain but to hear it hammering down from above. How lucky I am!

Over the past ten years, so much has been given back to me. Being able to understand what people are saying, music, films, theatre, being able to interact with our pastor in church. Thank goodness he is patient with a sense of humour. Regularly I will interrupt with: “No, Peter, surely God didn’t mean for that to happen?”
“Yes, he did. Just wait, you’ll see why in a moment!”

Every three years, my medical aid, Discovery, provides me with an upgrade to my Cochlear Implant processor. Recently I was excited because that time had blissfully arrived once more. Jenny had told me it would be smaller and stronger than my previous one. As she handed it to me, the processor almost seemed to grin and say: Hey there, we’re going to have fun together!
I looked at it in amazement. It was astonishing that such a minute item could contain such life giving properties.
“You have an iPhone, don’t you?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, in actual fact, it’s new.”
“You can actually operate your processor by remote control using your iPhone. You simply put an App on your phone.”
“Amazing!” I laughed.
Jenny looked at her computer and said:
“You haven’t been listening to your music much.”
“What do you mean.”
She pointed to a small circle on her screen. About an eighth of the circle was a blue colour. “That’s your music. There’s also a portion showing your conversation, how much TV you watch…”
“What is that portion, the largest one?”
Jen smiled. “That’s your quiet time.”
Whilst marvelling at the technical genius in front of me, a small part of me cried out: ‘What about my privacy?’
As if reading my mind, Jenny said: “Don’t worry, that is as far as one is able to ‘probe’. It’s just to give us an assessment of how you are using your Cochlear Implant.”
I was secretly disappointed at myself for not making the most of my incredible ‘ears’ and vowed to listen to more music. Earlier today, I was listening to Barbara Streisand. What an artist she is! Before my fall,I used to love the music of Out of Africa. It’s strange how foreign that music sounds to me now. I’m going to persevere with it though. Vibrations through my Cochlear can set off different sounds and images in my brain. I need to search for the music I loved so much. It’s there. I will find it.

I think back to that person watching the dancing, lost in the silence of her world. How my life has changed. I now have a Cochlear Implant in each ear. I have a special streamer that helps me watch TV. I am able to hold my own at a table filled with people. I am mad about a singer I had never heard before my fall, Eva Cassidy. I am so looking forward to the next Meryl Streep film hitting the big screen.

In August I was in England and I went to the Novello Theatre in London to see the London production of Mama Mia. Beforehand we stopped in at The Waldorf. What a zoot-magoot hotel!!! We sat and drank cocktails deluxe. They were spectacular in their intricate designs and tasted out of this world. The doorman was a Mr Bean lookalike! I insisted on a photograph being taken of the two of us. I delighted in the way he permitted a small smile to split his de riguer facade!

It was such a treat watching Mama Mia. I listened to them singing Thank you for the music and I simply rejoiced. My life seemed to have done a wonderful circle. Once more I’m able to listen to that song with an unbounded joy in my heart.

I want to stand on a mountain top and ululate long and loud with a mixture of jubilation and exultation. I am alive and part of this wonderful thing called Life.

Thank you for the music!!!

The post Thank you for the music! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

A long time ago in ’67
A little boy was roaming on the beach,
When all of a sudden he heard a plaintive cry,
So near yet so far out of reach.
He looked behind a rock so tall and there before his eyes
Was an oil soaked seagull lying there,
Windswept with pain in its eyes.
And the seagull’s name was Nelson,
Nelson who came from the sea,
And the seagull’s name was Nelson,
Nelson the seagull’s free.
He fed that seagull limpets small
Until that bird could fly
And when he thought it was so, he let lil’ Nelson go
And he flew above his head in the sky.
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson who came from the sea
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson the seagull’s free
The time did come for the boy to go
Sadness was in their eyes.
But it’s not for you to criticise
For you cannot see a seagull cry.
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson who came from the sea
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson the seagull’s free

In the 70’s most South Africans knew this song by Des and Dawn Lindberg. I remember as a teenager being most disgruntled when Mum switched off the record player and told me to get on with my homework. “I can work and listen!” I protested.
“That may be so, but I think hearing it for the thirty-sixth time, I am rapidly going off seagulls,” My mother retorted.
“I didn’t play it thirty-six times,” I muttered slinking off to my room.
As an actress, I remember going to an audition that Dawn was holding. I didn’t get the part but I liked Dawn and Des tremendously. As the years moved on we became friends. I had my accident in December 1989. My acting days came to an end but my days of being before an audience were far from vanquished! 1994 I opened in my one woman show My Plunge to Fame where I performed as Gaynor Young telling her story.
You cannot even begin to to imagine my nerves on opening night. This was something totally new to me. I was used to facing the audience as a character whom one is able to hide behind. That was no longer possible. I was confronting the audience head on – as me! I said the final words of my performance and there was a black out. The lights came back on and I took my bow. I looked out in sheer amazement as the audience got to their feet applauding. My family stood there, tears streaming down their cheeks clapping. My eyes swept over all my friends there that night. I can see them all so clearly. Des and Dawn were standing on the left of the auditorium towards the back. The lights went off and came back on. Dawn put her hands in the air and continued clapping with the rest of them…..
Every time the Lindbergs pass through George they make a point of seeing me. The last time, I commented on the beautiful turquoise earrings Dawn was wearing. Quick as a flash they were in my hand. “They will look better on you. They’ll match your eyes!”
About two years ago I was walking along the beach. Not on the sand, I can’t manage that. I was strolling with my dog on the walkway, enjoying the sights around me. Suddenly I heard, yes, due to my Cochlear Implants, I HEARD a familiar tune……
“And the seagulls name was Nelson,
Nelson who came from the sea….”
The man in front of me was whistling as he walked. Was he whistling…? Glory be, I had heard that correctly,hadn’t I? I caught up and stopped him. “You’re whistling The Seagulls name was Nelson, aren’t you?” The man nodded. “I haven’t heard that song for such a long time. I love it! Thank you for reminding me.”
He laughed. “With these gulls swooping around I think it’s appropriate!” He ambled off whistling.
“…..And the Seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson the seagull is free”
This weekend the Lindberg’s are celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary. They will be singing all the well known songs from way back when! How sorry I am not to be able to make it. Yet I will fly with them when their seagull takes to the skies………
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson who came from the sea
And the seagull’s name was Nelson
Nelson the seagull’s free…….

*

***

Listen to Des & Dawn singing ‘And the seagulls name was Nelson by pressing here!

The post And the seagull’s name was……. appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

I

I believe

there’s beauty to be found

in every moment

in silence and in sound

It’s in the air

it’s everywhere

even in our anguish

and our deepest dark,

beyond despair

When we have travelled

near or far

When we’re content to be

just who we are

It doesn’t matter anymore

If we are in the right

or wrong

What matters most is

if we sing the song

of life and laughter

tears and pain

and if we can forgive and let it go,

and love and lose it all,

and learn

to love again,

and love again

My heart sings with the beauty of this!
Rexleigh teaches so could only work on Lost in a Bluebell Wood in her spare time. But, a number of the songs are now complete! Rexleigh is showcasing them in ‘Bouquet’ on October 5th in the Stella Street NG Kerk, Brooklyn, Pretoria at 4pm. As Rexleigh explains:
“Bouquet” is a plant-inspired (flower theme) concert program comprising opera favourites, which will be performed by members of Sempre Opera. The program will also feature excerpts from a new opera about Gaynor Young, called Lost in a Bluebell Wood.
Lost in a Bluebell Wood is a story of great personal courage, loving support and self-acceptance, which has a universal message for all people.The poetic libretto (overlaid with the Greek myth of Persephone and Demeter) and original music of Lost in a Bluebell Wood are totally my work and for this performance I will conduct the chorus, soloists and an instrumental ensemble. The Armonia Chamber Singers will be coached by chorus master, Schalk van der Merwe. A sign language component utilised by soloists and chorus to selective dramatic effect will be choreographed and coached by Avril Cummins, and directed by Karoly Pinter.
Rexleigh is making a video of “my numbers” during this event which she hopes to then use as a marketing tool to get sponsorship and funding for a full operatic production in 2015.
Isn’t this tremendously exciting? Once I have a copy of that days video, I look forward to sharing it with you via my blog. If any of you are in the vicinity on October 5th, please pop in and feast your eyes and ears.
I know that it will be magnificent!

Anyone interested in getting involved with the full 2015 production of Lost in a Bluebell Wood please contact Rexleigh at: bunyard@acenet.co.za

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An added problem was that many restaurants have music playing in the background. Piped music to add to the restaurant’s “wonderful allure”!!! In the background! Ha! When one is deaf, dealing with background music is always a nightmare. A total, unendurable nightmare! I would sit there desperately trying to lip read what everyone was saying. Inevitably I would call the manager over and say: “Excuse me, I am deaf. Would you mind turning the music down?”

The manager would always go and turn the music down with a slightly bewildered look on his face. It was only when my family pointed out the contradictory nature of my request, that I was able to see the funny side. “I am deaf. Please could you turn the music down?”

The thing is that when one is deaf, sound is incredibly important. Certain sounds take priority. The voices of my friends and family are the most important thing. Anything that interferes with hearing them must be banished. Or turned down at least!

What I never appreciated until speaking to my friend, B, was that the hearing people also get gatvol (fed up) with background music. Her father hates muzak in restaurants, supermarkets and lifts so much so that he has joined a great organisation called Pipedown. This campaigns against “noise pollution”!

In the words of Stephen Fry, the playwright, another Pipedown supporter, “Piped water, piped oil, piped gas, yes!  But never piped music!”

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