Jerry Rasmussen

Gerald is long gone, like a turkey through the corn.

Just call me Jerry: the artist formally known as Gerald.

It's been a long time since I've posted on this page. I use the page with me sitting on a bench in from of Sun Studios. With the pandemic, my music has slowed down to almost a stop. I am getting back to work on a new CD. If you want to keep in touch with me, check my page with me in front of Sun Studios. I have 1,500 friends and post their daily.

You can listen to my music on soundcloud.com

https://soundcloud.com/jerryrasmussen/a-whole-lot-happy-mix-2

a whole lot happy mix 2 A song I wrote.

These days I've been working on a new project which at some point will probably be a CD and a book titled Once Upon a Time in America. I've been gathering stories I've written about growing up in the Midwest, many of which I've told as an introduction to my songs. I've got enough songs I haven't recorded for another CD. Very much related to this is a men's group I' was asked to start at a local nursing home. There are vry few activities in nursing homes for men, so I have started a group. We had our first gathering last week. It was a wonderful experience for all of us. After getting to know each other a little, I played my song Living on the River, which stimulated everyone to talk about fishing, skating in the winter, and just hanging around a local river as a kid. Rivers are the same, wherever they are. I'll be sharing songs, stories, and memories from my growing uo, as well as popular music from the thirties through the sixties. The group will lead me as much as I lead them. There most likely will be new stories and a song or two that will come out of the experience. Much of this will be shared on facebook, as we go along.

It's been quite a while since I've posted on here, but it's not because I haven't been active in my music and writing. I have been focusing on a program titled Once Upon a Time In America, which I've been offering in nursing homes and senior centers. The program is a mix of stories and related songs I've written about growing up in a small town. I am also working on a book of the same title, and am planning to do a new CD of traditional and original folks songs, many of which will tie into the program and planned book. My time right now is limited, so I am using the time I have to work on all three projects, depending on the challenges inherent in each of them. You will regularly see the work I'm doing on facebook posts. I appreciate each of your friendships and your interest is fuel for my creativity.

The Beauty of Getting Old
The first time I was ever asked to sing in a hospital, was in 1962. I was 27 years old, and hadn’t the slightest clue were my life was going. I was self-absorbed, out of necessity. I no longer remember who asked me to sing in a children’s ward of a New York City hospital, or even which hospital it was. I was still unsure of myself and my singing, and I certainly wasn’t prepared to enter a children’s ward filled with small kids, many of them facing life-threatening illness. For years, I’d sung for my nieces and nephews, and was armed with a few Woody Guthrie songs and old, traditional songs that were tried and tested on them. I sang to them as kids, not sick kids, and they responded in kind.

As the years passed, I found myself singing more and more regularly in nursing homes. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, either. When I first started singing in nursing homes, and visiting the sick, people wondered how I could do it.

“Don’t you get depressed?” They asked. “I can’t stand to go into a nursing
home! I hope I never end up that way.”
I must admit, it took some time for me to get used to singing for people who often fell asleep while I was singing, or became upset and confused and had to be wheeled out of the room. It didn’t feed my ego. I had eyes, but could not see.

When I met my wife Ruth, the first time I asked her to go out with me, we didn’t go to a movie; we went to visit the sick. I didn’t know a single person we visited. It didn’t make any difference. They were people who welcomed a visit, even from a complete stranger.

Through time, I began to see the beauty and joyful Spirit in the faces of those who would seem to have no reason to be joyful. They had quietly transcended their situation and radiated love. As my wife and I are getting old, we too have discovered the beauty in getting old.

As we age, our lives are gradually stripped down to its essence. The desire for material possessions slowly slips away, and we realize we have all we need. The striving and manipulating for pleasures of the body fade, and we are left with the desires of the heart. And finally, you are able to see. Now, when I visit a nursing home or a hospital, or sing to the patients, many of whom are younger than I am, I see the beauty in them. I laugh with them, and their ability to find humor in their state of life. It’s not black humor. It is a recognition that life is still filled with blessings… new blessings you couldn’t experience when you were younger. I see the goodness, and courage in people, and most of all, the need to love, and be loved. I will never forget the women we visited many years ago, who went from being a complete stranger to a dearly loved friend. Each time when we had to leave, she’d hold my hand and say, “Don’t forget about me.” I never will, although she passed, long ago.

Each day of my life is filled with love… the greatest of gifts. I see the vulnerability in the woman in the supermarket who is too short to reach up and take down something she needs from the top shelf. In the fleeting moment while I am taking the package down, and she flashes a warm smile of appreciation, I feel the connection. “It’s my pleasure,” I assure her. And it is. It is an act of love to a total stranger, I will never see again. “It’s my pleasure,” is a natural response, and says so much more than “no problem.” I think back to a song I wrote, long ago with the lines,
“You pass on the street, with no recognition
lost in your thoughts, you’ve a life of your own”
Find Rest Tonight – words and music by Jerry Rasmussen
Our days are filled with love and beauty, or as Brian Wilson sings, Love and Mercy. As we get old, the busy-ness of our days slows down, and we begin to see life as it is. We treasure the joy of gently holding someone we love in our arms. Even the fleeting touch of a hand, resting on our shoulder is the touch of love. We see the everyday courage of people who have every reason to give up, but spend the little energy that remains, loving and encouraging others.

Now, when I visit the sick, or sing in a nursing home, I finally understand that it’s not about me. You cannot see the beauty around you if you are always looking inward. It is only with the heart that we can truly see.

Many of my stories come from introductions to songs I've written. Many of the songs I've written come from stories I've written. They are all of one piece.