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When I play my portable harp for Alzheimer’s patients, most smile sleepily and murmur “beautiful.” But there are the few comments that really make my head spin. One lady recently told me that my harp playing was the best “cardigan she had ever heard.” I know I have a lot of strings. I didn’t know I was a sweater!
Another of my favorite friends heard me coming and called out, “My Angel! My Angel!”
“Hello,” I greeted her. “How are you?”
“Oh, you’re here too. I’m fine.” She said dismissively. Then she turned toward my harp and asked it directly, “How are you?”
At least we know who is important.
Sometimes they are just as interested in talking to me as they are in listening. Recently, I played for a gentleman who is 83. He told me all about his daughter and his wife and the holiday cards he was sent. After several requests, he asked me to play the Sunday school song “This Little Light of Mine.”
“When I was a boy,” he explained, “I would go and visit these old Methodist ladies–” then he stopped. “Well they were only about 60, but they seemed old at the time. They would take me to church.” I played him “This Little Light of Mine” and tears began to run down his face.

I am a classical musician who strives to play works by Bach, Handel and Debussy. But when I work with the memory impaired I am often reminded of the power of a simple Sunday school song.

“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,
let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

The CD is finally here! When the UPS truck pulled into our driveway, my whole family rushed out to help carry in eleven boxes of CDs! 1,000 disks titled “The Joy We Share Hymns for Solo Harp” were really here–the realization of a very long process.

Making this CD began several years ago when people like you began asking me if I had recordings for sale. My most persistent fan was my Grandmother who lives with us. “When will you make a CD?” she would ask when I practiced. But I was far away from home on New Year’s 2013 when I realized, the CD needed to happen this year.

It took me till Augu

st to begin asking questions. First question, who? I was relieved to discover the talent of my longtime friend Nate Butler from Nimble Wit Productions. He provided the full service package of recording, editing, mastering and joke cracking. And I knew I could trust him.

Where? Wracking my brains to find a resonant space, I found I could record in the vibrant acoustics of Goshen College’s Rieth Recital. Oh the thrill!

Finally, what? N

ow it was up to me to provide the music. All the tracks on this CD are my original arrangements of favorite hymns–I just had to decide which of the many hymns I play and finalize how to play them. For three weeks I practiced, rewrote and refined my ideas. I got critiques from my teacher and from musical friends. I spiced up key changes, altered intros and added entirely new songs to my repertoire.

All too soon (and not soon enough) we were scheduled with Nate. The two days of recording were a combination of performance pressure, sheer elation, editing, exhaustion and laughter. You can read about that fiasco in my post Recording in Rieth.

Then came all the things

I wasn’t expecting.

A CD needs cover art. Off we went to the fabulous Bryan Chris Photography for a photo shoot which was dangerously windy, blindingly bright and nearly poisonous, but resulted in several stunning photos including the one on the cover. You can read about it at my post Photoshoots and Poison Ivy.

A CD needs graphic design. Fortunately my mother is not only my manager, my chauffer, my advertising agent, but also an artist and graphic designer. She laid out my ideas as I wavered between photos, words, typefaces and layouts. You can see her art work  at Cathy Hagen, Artist Facebook.

A CD needs a title. This was a tough one. At my teacher’s suggestion, I began looking in the lyrics for the hymns. “The Joy We Share” comes from the chorus of my second song “I Come to the Garden.”

A CD needs to be manufactured so mother and I had to hammer out details of uploading audio files and cover art to DiscMakers. Computer work can be . . . stressful. I was worried; would I have any hair left?

Once the CD was manufactured, I had to figure out how to add the little sales widgets provided by CDBaby to my website. Both these companies were wonderful to work with. All the same, remember what I said about computer work?

But every single minute was worth it when we opened those UPS boxes. I pulled out one of the little plastic containers, ripped off the cellophane wrapping and smiled. Then I turned, and kneeling, gave my Grandmother the very first CD. She smiled. And cried. And I cried.

We shared the joy.

My CD “The Joy We Share” is now available online, at my website, my Facebook, on iTunes and at every event I play. Listen, like and pick up a few copies for yourself and for others. Share the joy.

Two weeks ago I was recording my CD in the beautiful Rieth Recital Hall. It is a brilliant space. People would advise me “Put feeling into a take,” and I hope when you buy the CD you will hear my feeling of joy at being in the Music Center on the Goshen College Campus. I hope you will hear many aspects of my location, the open space, the extended reverb, the warm light. But there was one thing I hope you won’t hear: Batman interrupting.

When I was a child wanting to play the harp, the first live harp concert I heard was the opening senior recital in the brand new Rieth Recital Hall. Ten years later, when I wanted to make a CD, I was thrilled to be able to hire that same space. We booked two days. My sound man, Nathan Butler of Nimble Wit Productions, and I arrived with trunk loads of gear. I had a harp, he had microphones and cables and stands and computers and speakers . . . all of which he positioned to capture the best of the hall. Rieth is a long and narrow room, about three stories high with light from the tall windows that dropping in to sit in the seats. At one end is an organ on a grey stone balcony. I sat at the other end in the warm embrace of the wooden stage. It is like a cross between a castle and a white oak cabin. And the acoustics. . . . After one particularly good take I jumped up from the harp and ran to the front of the stage, shouting as loud as I could “I love this space!”

It was perfect. Until Batman interrupted.

The second day of recording, we began to hear strange pings and rumbling sounds. Mom went outside only to find a ladder against the side of the building and a truck bearing the bright yellow warnings of the Humane Pest Control Company. She went to the secretary to ask about the noise level on the roof. He was horrified. He found the building manager who set off a domino of phone calls. After actually climbing up on the roof the manager returned to explain. It turns out that the beautiful Rieth Recital Hall had an issue with bats. Since it is illegal to kill a bat in the state of Indiana, they had the humane pest control up on the roof, sealing off the openings with one way doors so that the bats could leave but not return. I grinned at the manager, “You mean that’s Batman up there?”

That was the only day available to remove the bats. However it was also our only available day to record my CD. So Goshen College extended my time slot with many apologies and we continued recording. Every once in a while there would be a rumble of thunder but both parties came away happy. And they will have no more bat issues.

That day in that beautiful room, I learned about acoustics and about how to safely remove bats. But what I really learned is achieving a good performance depends less on the perfect space, and more on the choice to rejoice.

In fact, we’re still laughing about Batman . . .

So why was I outside, sitting cross legged in thigh high grass, wearing my best satin dress and praying whatever I had just walked through was not poison ivy?

Well, I’m making a CD.

There is a lot to the process: recording, mastering, marketing, clear or cardboard cases, cover art . . . .Currently, we are working on cover art. Which is why I spent Labor day afternoon in a photo shoot with the very kind and very professional Bryan Chris of Bryan Chris photography. Visit www.bryanchrisphotography.com and Bryan Chris on FaceBook.
We began in his elegant downtown studio where he had the challenge of trying to light some very attractive ladies–my three harps: Jocelyn, Sigi, and Claire. Meanwhile, I tried to relax with some facial calisthenics.

As a theater person, I have developed the habit of warming up my face with some rather wild expressions. Between shots I would scrunch my lips, nose and eyes all to one side of my face. “One of these times, I’m going to catch that,” Bryan would threaten. I realized that a photographer is the only person who can make that old threat come true, “Don’t frown or your face will stay that way!”

Bryan had several brilliant ideas–literally brilliant. He positioned lights behind me to give a flair in the camera. It accidentally dazzled my curious eyes looking at one of the four flash bulbs just as he was testing it. The light bulb in my brain didn’t go on until the one in front of my face had already flashed!

Then we moved outside to the rolling hills of Bonneyville Mill. With the wind blowing my dress over glowing grass and the harps shining in the evening light, it was a perfect picture. But to get that perfect picture I had to haul my harp up a very tall hill, sit in sand and walk through what was probably poison ivy before I noticed it. Brave Bryan actually lay in the underbrush and my faithful mother was bracing the stand for the outdoor light with her whole body. I was a little worried that the picturesque wind would pick up the light defusing umbrella and send my mother over the trees like Mary Poppins!

So that is why my best satin dress is in the laundry room waiting for me to brave the anti poison ivy fabric treatment.

I joke about my face staying in a silly expression. But it is true that the more we practice an expression or and an attitude, the more likely we are to fall into that expression in odd moments. Therefore I want to practice looking into glory, because while it can be blinding, it is the best way to get the look I want to achieve.

2 Corinthians 3:18
And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

 

 

My largest harp has 42 strings. I just replaced 34 of them.
People often ask me how often strings break. Not often. But strings wear out. The wire strings unwind, the strings made from gut stretch and after a while the vibrant angel voices become dull complaints. “Dead” strings must be replaced.

But this time I had a special motivation. I am making a CD. I’ve hired a hall, a soundman and next week we are recording. It is exciting. I want my harp to have its very best tone. So I spent a whole day tugging and tying and tightening strings that ranged from 1/16″ to 1/4″ in size. I needed macrame skills one minute and sheer strength the next. And I had to be very cautious not to strain my hands or let wiggling wire endanger my fingers. My hands and back were aching afterward and I actually bruised my palm trying to pre-stretch a low A.

Once all the new strings are on, it takes a few days for them to settle in. I have to tune a new string several times a day until each string finds the length where it sings. Those few days, the harp sounds awful. But let me tell you, now those new strings sound like bells struck by sunlight. And soon you’ll be able to hear them on my new CD!

I often compare myself to my harp. I came to Christ hoping for a little tune up. But when he heard me, he decided to replace my frame and my sounding board as well as my strings. He wasn’t afraid to hurt his hands to do so.

It’s hard to move the harp.
This is only partly because it is heavy. Mostly because I’m so picky–I mean careful. Imagine handing your 42 pound 5’7″ baby over to someone you don’t know! But that is just what I had to do this weekend.

On Friday night, I had the privilege of playing at Elkhart Has Talent, the fund raiser for Bashor Children’s Home. I live just up the road from the Bashor, a faith based resource for troubled children and families. Next to heartwarming effect of helping a good cause, the best part about supporting Bashor was performing in the Lerner Theater.

The Lerner–this grand remodeled theater not only has beautiful lights and breathtaking acoustics and private dressing rooms–it has stage hands whom I trust. The men wearing black shirts and ear pieces carefully listened to my explanations and then gently moved my harp with their strong hands.

For the first time in my playing career, I let a non-harp person wheel my baby out on stage. That way, when the lights came on, I could make an entrance–and the harp could make an impression.

It’s hard to move a harp. But it is worth it.

People’s hearts are much more fragile than instruments. They go out of tune with time, warp in the heat and break if dropped by another who should love them. And when they need to move forward, you desperately want strong stage hands you can trust.

That is why I was honored to play a part in fund raising for Bashor Children’s Home. While I am careful about my harps, they put ten times more care and attention into every aspect of reaching troubled teens. Through the strong but gentle hands of education, residential programs and foster care, Bashor moves teens out of bad situations back stage to performing well on life’s stage.

It is hard to move a heart. But it’s worth it.