Life Begins at the End of Your Comfort Zone

By Eric Leberg

TURNING 75 was my hardest year. I fell and broke four ribs in my back, showing that my strength in the gym had obviously declined. I wondered where all of this would end. I had spent years planning what I would do after retirement: I had a vision, the means, and the opportunities to make it happen. Then, came 75.

After three months sitting and sleeping in the Lazy Boy (lying down in a bed was too painful), my ribs finally healed, only to find I had excruciating pain at times when I tried to stand up from a chair. I got therapy which, with a lot of work, solved the problem, but I never got a good
explanation for the back pains. I had to figure that out myself. Lying down for 3 months, not moving much, had weakened my core muscles so much that I was, or had, injured muscles in my back and core. 

Core strengthening exercises, which I really don’t care for (hello 75), has solved that problem, so long as I do the exercises.

My plan for retirement was to expand my musical interests. Little by little, I had been collecting the equipment needed to form a small jazz band, because I knew the people I had played with, or would play with some day, wouldn’t have the sound equipment, just their own clarinet,
or trumpet, electric keyboard, or their voice.

My wife and I explored ten different retirement communities, before settling in our new home, because a catastrophic illness would wipe out all of our assets in a flash. We found the type of community that took practically all our assets to move in, but in exchange agreed that if we do
run out of money, they won’t throw us out on the street.

This new community, had a 35-voice choir, and the director asked if I would accompany them  and the piano by playing flute on a sacred, classical number. I play flute, and had kept my jazz chops up pretty well over the years, because I knew I’d need something musically speaking to bring into my retirement musical plans. But I had never played that kind of music. Boy did I rehearse in my room!

I did play the part, reasonably well, and appreciated the opportunity. Shortly after, a woman in an electric wheelchair stopped me in the mail room. She said she had heard me play and also heard I played a little guitar. What did I suggest, she asked, learn guitar or ukulele? She’d
had a serious brain injury from being rear-ended in a car accident, was told she’d never be able to use her left side again, and her memory would never return. She was determined to prove the brain surgeon wrong. And boy she was doing it.

Her question was a no-brainer: ukulele. A guitar wouldn’t lend itself to the arms of an electric wheelchair. Two days later she told me her new ukulele had arrived and now I had to teach her how to play!

I had never played a ukulele, but my experience with guitar, and a little investigation, taught me that the ukulele is basically just like a guitar, only with much higher strings. After giving her a few lessons, on how to hold the ukulele, how to strum, and how to play the three basic chords, I was learning right along with her. A couple of weeks later, she said her neighbor in our community wanted to learn the ukulele too. Then his girlfriend wanted to learn. You can buy a reasonable ukulele for under $100, so this wasn’t a stretch for my new friends.

Word of mouth spread about the group. Two years later, I am leading a group of 15 ukulele players. They chose the name “Ukes on the Ridge.” About ten years ago, I bought a little
decorative dish in a gift shop with the saying, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” In the experiences above, I certainly felt discomfort. But I always remember the saying. Whenever I am asked to do something and it makes me uncomfortable, I say, “Yes.” DIScomfort is my trigger to expand my comfort zone. It has never steered me wrong.

Something I have always wanted to do was work with young musicians. As luck would have it, a new Middle School was built a block from where I live. My wife suggested I be a volunteer. The DIScomfort was instant, but I conquered it. However, my first effort to fulfill this dream failed: the school district would only use volunteers as one-on-one mentors. 

Later, however, the orchestra teacher heard about the Ukes on the Ridge, and asked if some of her students could bring their ukuleles to our weekly get-togethers. “Of course,” I replied
instantly. Then I told her my real dream had been to work with groups of musical students,
preferably flute players, but the District’s policy only allowed one-on-one mentoring. I’m sure my disappointment was palpable to her.

“I can cut through that red tape,” she replied confidently. A couple of days later the band director called me. Mr. Rogers suggested we get together and talk about volunteering. He came to our community complex, and I showed him around. He suggested we go to my apartment and talk a little more. My wife had given me the second bedroom in our condo which I converted into a music studio. We talked a little and he said, “Why don’t we play
something?”

Delighted, I said, “Sure,” and gave him one of my back-up flutes, pulled out some easy duet music, and we played for ten minutes or so. I knew the music, because I had played the tunes before. Then he invited me to come down to the middle school Tuesday and Thursday
mornings to help out.  In retrospect, I now realize he was “interviewing” me, to see whether I really could play music. Fortunately, I passed the test.

When my friends talk about how wonderful it is that I am willing to be a volunteer with middle school students, I reply, sincerely, that I have benefitted far more from spending time with them and Mr. Rogers, than what I have given volunteering. I have learned so much watching Mr. Rogers lead these 10-12-year-olds. 

He is the best band leader I have ever known or worked with, plus I get to spend time with these kids. Not ever having had children, I am also learning from and about these pre-teens.

One day, when working with eight flute players in a practice room, I noticed they were struggling with playing a high trill note. Their fingerings were awkward, and I showed them the “trill key,” a single key they could use to easily play the trill note beautifully in the piece we were practicing. Instantly, the notes in the musical passage blossomed.

Afterwards, I told Mr. Rogers what we had worked on, and about teaching them to use the trill key. He said he was happy because he hadn’t had the time to work with the students and teach them about the trill keys. Understandably, of course, because with 35 band students in the class, he had enough on his hands and no time to teach all of the finer points of each instrument. There was proof that I could be a valuable asset to the band.

One man who lives here, Don, age 92, has a terrific tenor voice and loves to sing in the choir. I had always dreamed of backing him up on guitar but felt discomfort about asking, because even at 92 he is one of the busiest, most creative persons in our community. I didn’t want to burden him with another item on his lengthy “to-do” list.

One day, when he learned I play a little guitar, he asked me if I would consider backing him
up on a Toby Keith tune called “Don’t Let the Old Man In,” a poignant song about staying young while growing old. I agreed, but when we rehearsed the tune, he asked if I could play

fingerstyle guitar (cue “DIScomfort”). I had never played fingerstyle before but agreed that I would try. A month later we had 12 songs that we were rehearsing, and two
years later, we are regular performers in the community’s Full-service Lounge, playing once a month for 75-100 people. Don also asked me if I could consider playing solo guitar to some of the tunes. Playing solo was something I had never done seriously, but I agreed. 

I have now expanded my musical skills in areas I never dreamed would happen. I am still
quite uncomfortable playing solo guitar, but I do it anyway. I also lead several different musical
groups, but I am beginning to realize there are times when I have to say, “No.” My “DIScomfort” has become my friend in a new way. Throughout my life, I have always volunteered, from grade school, to Boy Scouts, to community activities. But the message on the black dish isn’t a rule, it’s only a guideline:

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”