⬆️ Turn on the sound!
It was the summer of 2015 and there was an excited buzz in the air as the audience was finding their seats for the Young Stracke All-Stars album release show. It had become known that Ella Jenkins had made it to the show, and everyone knew they were in the presence of someone very special. Ella and I had met several times and had even played some gigs together, but we didn’t know each other so well yet. I was quite honored that she had accepted our invitation, and that we could share our music with her.
By the fall of 2015 I had heard that Ella had moved into an assisted care facility not far from the Old Town School of Folk Music, where I was teaching, and the neighborhood where I lived. Eventually, something inside me clicked and I thought, “Oh. The kids don’t have school next Monday because of the holiday. We should go visit Ella!”
For the rest of my time in Chicago, we had a regular meetup with Ella when school was not in session. I’d stop at the store to pick up some snacks for the kids, a bouquet of flowers, and peppermint ice cream, which was Ella’s favorite. Sometimes we’d have lots of families, other times it was just a few. We’d all gather in a communal room at the facility. This room had a piano and lots of space for us to spread out our instrument case, winter coats and snacks and little siblings would have room to roam freely. The facility staff was always very kind and graciously put up with us moving the furniture around. We’d have quite a time, singing The Cuckoo, This Train, This Little Light of Mine and lots of other favorites! Often, a small crowd of other residents and their caregivers would gather to sing and clap along with us.
I’m not sure how affected the kids were by being in the presence of someone famous, which Ella was. But Ella’s aura was never about fame. The intense, potent energy that one felt in Ella’s presence came from her love of music and community. When I think back on my time leading the Young Stracke All-Stars, and teaching in Chicago, these are some of my strongest memories. Not memories like stories, but memories of a feeling that, through our visits, we were all able to gather our lessons in music and community and take them out of the classroom and bring them to life in the larger world. In many ways, that world had, at least some way, been opened to us by Ella Jenkins and her music.
It was in afternoons like these, and other days when it was just Ella in me, that she became a very dear friend of mine. I’m not sure she could always remember my name, but I know that she knew who I was and she was always glad to have me visit. We had an understanding that we traveled together in the spirit of music.
I was lucky that she and I had some quiet, peaceful time together on her 100th birthday, last August. Ella was very tired, but the sound of my uke perked her up and soon she was all smiles and lifted up by the music and singing along and playing imaginary drums. As you might imagine, we sang through some favorites; the Cuckoo, This Little Light of Mine and one of her favorites, The Glory of Love as performed by her friend Big Bill Broonzy.
Ella’s spirit traveled on, on November 9, 2024. It make me sad that I won’t be able to sing with her in person anymore. Thankfully, at least one of her songs comes to my lips every day.
I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to learn so much from her and to have spent so much heart-felt time together.
Love you, Ella!
I miss you so much. Thank you for opening your heart to me.
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