Here we go again. No matter what I will ever do in music, on whatever scale, nothing will have more importance, or be of more meaning to me than those special experiences in senior care centers (often that no one else sees). I have felt this on many occasions over the last couple of decades, often when wearing my Music Therapy hat. This time I was playing a memorial service at Heron Point in Chestertown. I have been playing at Heron Point since beginning in the care center in 1994. And most of that time Miss Anne (not her real name) would be seated in the group in front of me, waiting for me to play Stardust. I can't remember when she wasn't, actually. I would like to say that it was "our" thing, but I knew that Anne would extract Stardust from any situation that she could. But still, it was our thing. She knew what was coming when I walked into the room, and soon learned that she didn't have to ask. Which didn't stop her from reminding me, or me from reminding her that it was coming. Sometimes I'd play it right away, sometimes I'd build the suspense and make her wait. But I always played it. And for years, the music sessions in the health care center pretty much revolved around Miss Anne and Stardust. And without fail, she was always ridiculously happy hearing and singing along to it, often recognizing the tune after the first two or (at most) three notes. She would often recall her mother saying that she loved Stardust so much that at her funeral she would jump out of her coffin and ask for it to be played. Anne never lost that love, though as she approached (and passed) 100 years, her difficulty in hearing would amplify her increased detachment in group settings, and her response to (any) music would be hit and miss. But she never let go of that special song. A year or two ago we were having a hymn sing in the health care center, and as a hymnal was handed to Miss Anne she asked, "Is Stardust in there?" Miss Anne left this life a couple of weeks ago. I had the privilege of playing her memorial service, and the opportunity of playing Stardust for her one last time. And, by not having to ask, she proved her mother right.