A few weeks ago, I took my banjo to the nursing home with a few other pickers to play for the old folks, since they really love that old-time music. We played for an hour in the cafeteria after they had finished their lunch, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. When we were packing up, one of the nurses asked me if I would mind playing a little for a patient who used to be a banjo player, but was bed-ridden and couldn't attend our session in the cafeteria.
I told her I'd be pleased and honored to go to his room and play a little for him. So we went down the hall to his room and I greeted him, but he was non-responsive. I could tell he wasn't sleeping, but he just had a glassy look in his eyes. So I picked a little on my banjo for him, but got no response. I did a few more tunes, playing louder and faster, hoping it would elicit some response. Still nothing, though. After a little while, my fellow pickers came in and told me it was time for us to go.
Before I left, I leaned over to the man and said, "Take care, sir, I hope you get better."
He looked up at me and said, "Good Lord, I hope you do too."
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