[Nfbf-l] Legally blind Indiana man takes up guitar at 83

[Alan Dicey]

Legally blind Indiana man takes up guitar at 83 By Steve Warden The
 Journal Gazette
Before Al Wheeler's thin fingers reach for the dark-stained Harmony acoustic 
guitar leaning against a wall, before he strums the opening C chord to 
"Sweet Caroline," he must first push aside the long oxygen tube he has worn 
since he had a heart attack 15 years ago. Let's see," the 83-year-old says 
as he tries to position his fingers across the guitar's neck, "I can't get 
my hands to work right. With a downward strum, beginning with the bass E 
string, the black pick in Wheeler's right hand plucks the A and D, G, B 
strings, and finally the high E, and the six-note blend fills the small room 
in his home where he practices in a straight-backed chair. He leans slightly 
at the waist, peers over the music stand, and strains to see the tablature - 
hand-copied in inch-high letters to assist him, since he is legally blind. 
And with a sculptor's exactitude, he watches his fingers form an F chord. 
Then he strums again. I want to learn three songs," Wheeler tells The 
Journal Gazette (http://bit.ly/19Zf0G3
 ) with great certainty, still attached to a tank of oxygen. 'Amazing 
Grace,' 'Sweet Caroline' and 'My Woman, My Woman, My Wife'; those three 
songs. He wants to play "Amazing Grace" and Marty Robbins' 1970 
Grammy-winning tune, "My Woman, My Woman, and My Wife" because those are his 
favorites. I love 'Amazing Grace,' "Wheeler says. They usually play that for 
you when you're dead. But I do like it. I love it. It's a great song. And 
Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" is for his wife of 60 years. Her name, of 
course, is Caroline, the mother of her and Al's seven boys, and the dear one 
who drives her husband to his weekly lessons at the Sweetwater Academy of 
Music.
Aided by a two-wheel cart, she also loads and unloads the guitar and wheels 
it into the studio. Then she sits patiently during the hour session, of 
which he has had 10. I asked, 'Can you teach a blind man, 83 years old? 
Wheeler says of his first lesson. And he said, 'Yeah, we can do that.' It 
was John Forbing who said, "Yeah. He is Wheeler's instructor who teaches 
instruments such as guitar, piano, bass, banjo and violin. In his own right, 
Forbing is an accomplished musician, often called upon to play bass guitar 
with national touring bands. He's a great guy," Forbing says of Wheeler. 
Eighty-three years old, and he's dragging that oxygen around with him. He 
straps his guitar on a hand truck, and his wife comes in. . It's the coolest 
thing ever. Everybody smiles when they see him walk in. Al Wheeler is 
certainly the oldest of the estimated 350 to 400 students who attend the 
Sweetwater academy on a weekly basis. Most of the students, according to the 
academy's director Kevin Christenson, range from ages 11 to 18. That seems 
to be the time when kids get in school bands and want to play an instrument. 
Christenson, who was in charge of the Heritage High School bands from 2002 
to 2012 and was an assistant at Snider, last year, says guitar is the most 
popular lesson given at Sweetwater. Piano is next, then drums and voice. 
Ideally, as long as the focus is there, the younger the student, the easier 
it is to learn and begin to learn music from a reading level," Christenson 
says.
To learn to read music is like learning to read another language. We're most 
apt to learn new languages at a younger age, because the brain is able to 
accept new languages quickly. As we get older, it's hard to learn a foreign 
language. . It's not that you can't do it, though. Not every student filled 
with hope who walks into Sweetwater or through the doors of other 
establishments where music is taught becomes proficient at their chosen 
instrument. Some become frustrated and bag it after a few lessons. Others go 
for a month or two before calling it quits. It's the nature of the beast 
that is music. What was the great Tom Hanks line in the baseball film, "A 
League of Their Own"? It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone 
would do it. The hard' is what makes it great. It's the same learning an 
instrument. The biggest pitfall is they hear someone or see someone on TV or 
the radio, and they want to sound like that person," Christenson says. They 
come in and take lessons, and after four lessons, they don't sound like they 
think they should sound. But they're forgetting how much time and energy and 
effort and talent went into what they hear on that CD, or what they saw on 
that live show. People are famous for a reason, and I think we forget that. 
We're in a society of instant gratification, and you can't get instant 
gratification taking music lessons. It's a skill. It's a process. A lot of 
people don't want to hear that, but it's the truth. But those who are 
passionate about it leave the lessons energized to practice. When you go to 
a lesson that's tailored just for you, and you're working on what you want 
to work on, you're going to go home and play that. You're going to go home 
and learn that. So with his guitar across his lap, his oxygen tube pushed to 
the side, Al Wheeler sits inside the den of his comfortable northeast home 
and tries to find the F chord for "Sweet Caroline. To his right, top of the 
bookcase, that's him in the picture, shaking the hand of President Ronald 
Reagan. He is 30 years younger; when he could breathe easily; when he was 
taller and straighter, and his hair was dark and thick. He was busy then, 
the 83-year-old man explains, as a union representative with a local 
company. On the road a lot, in meetings. But today's Al Wheeler talked about 
coming up over a rise on the Iowa-Illinois border, around the Quad Cities 
area as he drove back home, and he recalled the time he heard Marty Robbins 
sing, "My Woman, My Woman, My Wife," and oh, how he adored that song. Hands 
that are strong but wrinkled/ Doing work that never gets done/ Hair that's 
lost some of the beauty/ By too many hours in the sun/ Eyes that show some 
disappointment/ And there's been quite a lot in her life/ She's the 
foundation I lean on/ My woman, my woman, my wife. Now that his own work is 
done, the gentle man's days are open so he can learn the song and to play it 
for his sweet Caroline. It's something I want to prove I can do," he says. 
I've never failed. I think I'm failing in this. It breaks my heart. I called 
Kevin the other day and said, 'Kevin, I want to suspend my lessons and 
restart in September. He said that's all right. I told him to tell John that 
I'll practice every day. I've got the music. I've got the chords pretty 
good, but I can't get my hands to move without looking, you know. That's 
what I have to do. I wasn't practicing enough. I think I can get it done