It's like everything ... sometimes magical ... sometimes mundane ... sometimes stealing my morning from things I'd rather be doing.
We've been remarkably consistent over the past year and haven't missed a single Thursday though the lineup changes weekly.
"HELLO KIDS!" I yell strolling in at the last minute with my guitar as Lona finishes the sound check and John patiently waits behind his drums.
"Check, Check, Check," Lona yells into the microphones to make certain everyone can hear.
Waiting in Wheelchairs, sleeping with chins drooling on their chests or clapping full of enthusiasm ... the vibe's always they same ... they're happy we're there ... they're happy anybody's there.
Over time it's gotten to where old ladies kiss me, old men shake my hand, the Administrator rolls his eyes and the Nursing staff are obviously glad for a reprieve.
We start with the music though I have a tendency to fly off on tangents which ... have become Holy moments of our time spent with the inmates.
"Hey," I ask in the middle of "Clouds" ... the Bar Church signature song ... after some fat Nurse pushing the Drug Cart in the middle of our performance makes them take medicine, "do y'all ever raid the drug cart at night?"
Our audience falls immediately silent ... then a couple laugh ... and one guy in a Wheelchair smiles and raises his hand.
I die laughing and Lona, John and I have to start the song over again.
Singing "Amazing Grace" I notice there's a padlock on the ice machine that wasn't there last week.
"Hey," I scream through all our troubles, toils and snares, "have y'all been breaking into the ice machine at night? Is that why it's got a new lock?"
Immediately falling silent ... they grin ... a couple laugh ... and the guy in the Wheelchair raises his hand.
A Nurse sticks her head in to see why everyone's laughing so when we sing "AMAZING GRACE, HOW SWEET THE SOUND" they do too ... and the Nurse smiles and leaves.
Playing the Nursing Home for Bar Church is a lot like being in High School again.
Sometimes special things happen.
An old woman with white hair grabs me as I'm hauling gear out after the show, breaks into tears as she repeatedly kisses my hand and cries, "Please come back."
"YOU DAMN RIGHT WE'RE COMING BACK!" I announce to everybody and ... for a moment anyway ... everyone is happy at the thought.
Or when Paul ... who hates everything that's happened to him in life ... being in a Nursing Home ... living in a Wheelchair with one leg ... rolls to me in the middle of Lona singing "Brand New Key" to hand me an envelope.
Lona and John continue as I kneel to open it and find a picture from the fields of "Woodstock."
"Seriously," I ask. "You were there?"
"I took the picture," he answers with a half assed grin reaching across his past to share in our present.
It's a nutty frustrating thing to do every week.
Nobody pays for it though it costs us plenty.
The Administrators act like they're doing us a favor letting us in to do something for the inmates they're paid to care for.
Occasionally a family member of an inmate sits, smiling glad he's getting what he's paying for ... which he's not paying for anything we're doing ... but he believes he is ... and seeing is believing.
In the past year, I've concluded it's as satisfying as it sucks!
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You can help the Bar Church ministry to the Oceanside Nursing Home by sending a tithe to Tybee Bar Church at P.O. Box 1511 Tybee Island, GA 31328 ... or online at www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch ... or by simply throwing something in the bucket on the Pool Table during service on Sunday.
