A jazz combo is set up in one corner of the room — piano, drums, cello, two saxophones.

The musicians are young men, students at the University of Missouri-Kansas City Music Conservatory. They are in the Jazz Program, led by Bobby Watson.

It’s a lovely time just being with friends; an evening made sweeter by a reunion with friends from 15 years past. We are eager to catch up and happily revisit old memories and restart old conversations.

Then the band starts.  In my memory of the night, everything else stops.

These young men are playing with a sophistication and touch beyond their years. It’s incongruous; baby-faced young men (no disrespect!) playing with joy, elan, and wisdom. It’s like they know a secret that the rest of us are searching for.

The drummer has blonde hair, tightly cropped. He’s slender and angular, and graceful. And when he plays, he is exuberant. Every note shows on him, in his eyes, his grin. He plays with an intensity, mindful of his part in the ensemble — at times caressing the cymbals, at times a dervish of motion. But the endearing trait is how much fun he’s having, the exuberance of his play.

I looked around the room at the rest of the crowd. All were transfixed, or transported, by the music and promise of these young men. We felt lucky to be there, to be a part of it.

The fact that it was happening here in Kansas City, just a few streets from our home, made it even better. We’d expect this in New York or maybe Chicago. It reminded me that magic is not tied to places, but hearts.

Don was in Kansas City to teach the techniques of running workshops for the siblings of developmentally disabled people. I expected to hear about issues of guardianship, health concerns, behavioral issues, overwhelming concern for challenges that loom large in so many families.

I had no idea it would be such a joy.

Don’s presentations are a delight. He is exuberant and funny, using humor and silliness.

He had the crowd of about 150 people do an exercise, without speaking, to sort ourselves into teams of “one’s,” “two’s” and “three’s.” The skeptical crowd got up reluctantly, some members heading for the doorways to slink out, but within three minutes, we were not only laughing out loud but holding hands in long conga-lines winding through the conference room, circling the round tables neatly organized. The simple handshake exercise forged bonds.

What did all this have to do with dealing with the many challenges of caring for a developmentally disabled family member?

Nothing, and everything. His workshops, he pronounced, are “unabashedly playful.”

“We have fun,” he explained. The workshops give siblings a chance to meet other siblings; there’s no “therapy,” just sharing experiences and feeling OK about it. You can’t underestimate how important it is to connect with others in similar situations.

My friends and I (all with siblings with Down Syndrome, from our own home-made support group) have been sharing stories and trading tips — how to measure signs of dementia, how to address changing health needs.

His advice to us? “Have wine at your meetings,” he said. “Make sure you have lots of laughs.” We left that day with an appreciation of the light touch.

In the same way that a whisper can be more compelling than a shout, so can a shared laugh be more powerful than the sobering narrative.  I’m thinking of a favorite quote from Maya Angelou that works to illustrate this:

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

It was partly out of pride and a sense of privacy. “It’s nobody’s business,” the matriarch would say. She’d decline to fill out the income questions on school forms and avoid letting others see the struggle. (Although, of course, they could still see.)

It also was partly a belief that asking for help was the same as admitting failure. The right thing to do was to soldier on and know that there are others even worse off than you. To prove it, it was important to always give to others, no matter what.

So it’s no surprise that the children in this family adopted that same belief structure.  They marched on, doing the best they could, while understanding that they also must help others. It was OK for others to ask for help, but not them – that’s where the pride came in.

For the most part, it worked out OK. The children all grew up to become modestly successful and mostly productive members of society.

Until one of them really, really needed help beyond what the family could provide.

Slowly and reluctantly, they broke the tradition. They took small steps to see about getting help from a local agency, affiliated with the state. They filled out forms. And more forms. They made appointments. They cautiously talked with the agency and government workers. Over time, they began to imagine letting others help them.

It started with very small steps. And it took a very long time (years) to even allow the smallest bits of support.

Looking in from the outside, I can understand the uncertainty, mistrust and shame they felt at asking for help. Asking for help is an admission of incapability, and it is difficult to hold onto anything like self-confidence or pride when you do so.

So it was an act of courage for them to ask for help.

I know it didn’t come easily; I know they are still quite tentative. They are learning how to behave in a new way, allowing others to see the condition of their lives – and participate in making it better.

I tell their story only because it seems worth noticing this component of the human condition. It may be an odd belief system, but it may be more prevalent than we notice.  And it seems timely as so many are struggling in this economy, in one way or another, perhaps with this same discomfort of learning how to behave differently.

Perhaps I can come to recognize this and to understand that although they may not ask for help, I should be mindful enough to offer.

As a young man in the early 1940s in New York, Ion was a regular at the legendary taverns in Greenwich Village, and his favorites were Minetta’s and McSorley’s.

Minetta’s has given way to the times, with a recent renovation that turned it into an upscale eating establishment. But McSorley’s, as I’ve noted before, stands defiant in its refusal to change. The last major change was the result of a 1969 legal decision, which forced the establishment (founded in 1874) to open its doors to women.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a champion of change. I applaud the decision that allowed me to visit McSorley’s. But some change does bring a pang to the heart.

Like the most recent one at McSorleys, involving the wishbones.

Back to my friend Ion.  When he visited McSorley’s, those wishbones were there, pronged on the gaslamp chandelier. They were already covered with decades of grime and dust.

They’d been placed there by young men, before they headed off to war. The first wishbones, it was said, came from the Civil War. They represented hopes delayed — the wishbones became symbols of the desired return. Once back, the soldiers could retrieve the bit of bone and make a wish.

Only many of the men didn’t return. And so the wishbones remained, unclaimed.

Ion was one of the lucky ones. He returned from World War II safely, and reclaimed his wishbone. He’s the kind of guy who might have wished for an end to all wars or maybe just another pint.

Other wishes and wishbones went unclaimed, and so remained atop the chandelier, gathering dust and grime. Until this week, when a health inspector ordered them cleaned. Details at this NYT article. (The inspector also ordered the McSorley cats removed.)

In responding to the order about the health hazard of the wishbones, Proprieter Matthew Maher carefully removed the wishbones, cleaned each, and returned each to its proper place. In a loving touch, he kept the grime  and dust removed from each, and took it home with him, “because, in the context of McSorley’s, it is sacred.” (quote from the NYT article).

Perhaps like the other changes, these will become part of the lore, always evoking a pang in the heart. Perhaps the important thing is passing on the stories of this remarkable place.

Ion did. He understood me well enough to know that I’d go there, whenever I could. He knew I’d look for the wishbones and give the cats some kindness, and keep the story alive.

It was the McFadden Brothers, performing to an intimate crowd at Oak Room at the Intercontinental Hotel on the Country Club Plaza.

It began with Lonnie McFadden alone, and his irrepressible grin, telling stories and promising us a good time. From the first notes of “The Girl from Ipanema,”  through “Under the Boardwalk” and a cover of a Rev. Al Green sultry song, he owned the music. It was part of him, swingy, playful, joyous and just brimming over with something wonderful.  It was all punctuated with his trumpet and occasionally,with his delightful dancing.

Joyous. Then, in the second set, his brother Ronald joined him on the tiny, taped-down hardwood stage over the carpeted lounge floor. Energy doubled.

The two perform knowing each other’s every move. They tease each other a bit, riff on each other’s comments, tell stories about growing up in a performing household (their father was “Smilin’ Jimmy McFadden,” who performed with Count Basie, Cab Calloway, Jay McShann and other legends).

Seeing the two brothers dance, side by side, and then alternating in increasingly difficult and showy steps, I was reminded of the comparisons between Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.  In this duo, Lonnie is like Gene Kelly, with playful in his movements, while Ronald is like Fred Astaire,  the essence of pure elegance. (Lonnie even broke the tap off his shoe!)

There was more. Lonnie’s daughter Gina was up next with a solo performance; followed by her younger sister Chloe with a searing cover of an Etta James blues song.  It sent shivers down my spine, and I’ll admit, made me cry. Then the two girls sang together; the kind of song that leaves one breathless. There was a touching moment when their dad turned to wipe away a tear.

The brothers came back to finish off the show with flourish and panache. They always do “Mister BoJangles” and this was no different. Except the moment that stuck was at the very end, as the two were closing the song, arms outstretched, slowing rising — the backs of their hands touch. Linger a moment. Sharing something for a moment.

The hands don’t clasp. They’re just together, intently, a subtle reach by both, to touch. It wasn’t just a too-small stage. It was a tender collaboration, an affirmation, a moment of deep connection.

We were privileged. I left thinking, “Was this the best performance I’ve ever seen?”

I’m not a professional reviewer. I don’t know if there might have been a better arrangement or sound levels might have been mixed differently or if the choreography was compromised by the tiny tap stage. Maybe so. All I know is that I recognized something profoundly powerful and joyous.

Go experience it for yourself.

I saw my first crocus of the season yesterday — a tiny thimble-sized lavender-hued bloom, but unmistakable in its promise.

That’s how I think about Kansas City’s Maker Faire, coming June 24-25, to Union Station. An event of promise and optimism, a celebration of people who create things. Makers.

The focus is on doing, using our hands, minds, hearts to create. Instead of just the blind consumption that’s so often pushed as economic strategy — I don’t buy it. (Oops, sorry about that pun.)

The Maker Faire is a grassroots and inclusive opportunity, equally welcoming to robot-designers and bread-

makers, musicians and artists, quilters and craftspeople. It’s a celebration of the act of creating, making, doing.

Organizers promise diverse fare: Tesla coils, bicycles, do-it-yourself science, alternative energy cars, artisan foods, woodworking and rockets.

Check out the Maker Faire site and help spread the word. Let’s show off our creativity, our arts, our skills, our ideas at the edge of the possible.

Making is living.

See you there.

My evidence?

- Maker’s Faire. Coming to Kansas City, June 25 and 26, at Union Station. Organizers are expecting 100-200 participants, a good start. I’ve written before about the power of makers, the honor of the craftsperson, and the attractiveness of the maker movement. Now it’s becoming a respected and valid entry to entrepreneurship. And it’s bubbling in Kansas City. This nascent movement combines innovation, creativity and a little bit of anti-establishment attitude in focusing on making rather than consuming.

- Forbes magazine identifies Kansas City as 5th of the nation’s 50 largest cities in terms of the growth rate of college-educated adults, making Kansas City one of the top “brain magnets” in the country.  Here’s what Forbes said:

The two-state Kansas City region boasts strong population growth and net in-migration– and for good reason. The city has one of the lowest costs of living, one of the highest personal-income growth rates and one of the healthiest real estate markets in the country. Short commute times also add to the attractiveness of the city for families. The city is the second-largest rail hub in the U.S. and is actively growing its life science and technology sectors. Kansas City gained 38,398 graduates from 2007 to 2009, or 2.96 percent of its 25-and-older population.

- Life Sciences and KC Animal Corridor. This is perhaps the most tangible of the signs. Rising from the loss of Marion Merrill Dow, dozens of smart Kansas Citians chose to stay and build upon their expertise and passion. They could’ve left to take jobs on the East or West coasts, or gone to rebuild from there. But they planted roots here, and now those roots are flourishing. Now, I don’t want to see any of our other large corporations move out, but even if they did (thinking of the perennial Sprint rumors, for example), I now believe the same could happen again.

- Blossoming arts scene. Kauffman Center for Performing Arts, the Nelson-Atkins, the Kansas City Art Institute, the arts incubator, the Crossroads, and loads of additional artist/entrepreneurs are changing the vibes in this town.  There was a small performance last week, “A Gaelic Revival,” held at the Irish Center in Union Station.  A handful of equity actors, including some of the best in Kansas City, performed scenes from “Playboy of the Western World,” “The Plough and the Stars” and “Kathleen nee Houlihan” for an enthralled audience of about 50.  Multiply this by the dozens of events every weekend, heck, every day, and you understand what a gifted arts community we have.

- Final perspective: Six qualified and capable candidates are running for mayor. Local pundits have already noted that the city can hardly go wrong with this roster.  Even discounting that all candidates speak in glowing terms about the city’s potential, this time … it feels like most of them really mean it.  I’d like to see the next mayor embrace collaboration and build on this newly emerging power.

So, to all those HR recruiters and corporate executives who still believe that the best come from somewhere else — think again. Look here first.

A thread running through the topic is the importance of play and creativity in solving the problems of the world. This isn’t hyperbole — the discussion really looked at the largest issues in the world.

From Jane McGonigal: the idea that in playing games, we are using our best version of ourselves; the mindpower that can be harnessed in playing games to make the world a better place.

Her goal: to make it as easy to save the world in real life, as it is in online games. And she’s not joking. If we could increase our game playing time from its current 3 billion hours a week to 21 billion hours a week, the world would be different place.

I look at gaming in a new light.

From Michael Wesch, social anthropologist from K-State: Good questions and illustrations of the world on fire — and brilliant insights on the changes technology offers. We can’t live the next 100 years like the last.

Media uses us as much as we use it; and there is no opting out. Media mediates relationships, when media changes, relationships change — including the structure of our culture.

Technology in our hands creates new potential. Question is how will we use it? How will it change us? Wesch articulates the razor’s edge between a hopeful future and a more ominous one with new openness and freedom, transparency, mass participation vs. the potential for more survelliance and control, deception, mass distraction.

His goal is to move his students from being knowlegeable to knowledge-able. He explains we need (and need to teach) skills to find, sort, analyze, organize and create knowledge.

He told the story of when the world was on fire. All the animals running to escape, but it was impossible — the fires were raging and soon they were trapped.

One little bird had an idea. The little bird flew to the stream and picked up a drop of water in its beak, flew back to the fire and dropped the water. And again, and again, and again.

What are you doing little bird? The best I can.

The heroics inspired the rest of the creatures (or variously, the gods) who joined in to save the day and put out the fire, by working together in the example of the littlest bird.

From Francis Cholle:  We need a higher level of creativity to solve sustainability questions. Creativity will be the the No. 1 leadership competency in the future.We need to play more to become more creative — play eludes our analytical minds. Our analytical minds can be a handicap to creativity.

The most important skills to master:

• Think holistically; there’s more to consider than the P&L
• Think paradoxically
• Listen for the unusual. Or, stop thinking and start feeling.
• Lead by influence, not by control

Plenty to ponder.  Thanks, TEDxKC.

Suddenly all is transformed and the tension takes on a new dimension. I am inside the construction site of the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Kansas City.

I admit to a constant fascination with the art of architecture and engineering — I’m stunned by the combination of mathematics and precision and emotion that is so evident in this structure.  Yes, emotion. You feel as thought the structure “knows” its purpose and embodies an appreciation of art and its impact on humanity.

Click on photo for a brief video

There is a tension in the structure — a struggle to balance, precisely, the engineering  requirements with the artistic goals. There is magnificence in the tension.

It’s both literal and figurative.

The physical structure relies on tension, with cables that flow from the curved shell to deep anchors. These cables support the glass atrium facade.

The imagery of the building is reminiscent of a musical instrument (a cello, in my mind). The tension wires are the strings, the arc of the structure is the sensuous body of the instrument, and its position on the landscape — the change to the horizon — is the music.

In this image, the participants who visit the building are part of the performance itself. We walk through the instrument and our movement resonates with the sense of breathing within the building. The building already feels alive with rhythmic tension.

You feel it inside the performance spaces where the beautiful woodwork is warming and comforting, where the chamber produces a cathedral-like sense of awe and grace. It’s a wonder at nature, like walking in a vast forest, but this time it’s the vast imagination, skill and mastery of the craftsmen that amazes.

The building soars and sings with echoes and self-reflections: it’s as though it folds in on itself, again creating a balance. The interior mimics the dramatic exterior, the lines of the exterior are reflected in the the parallel lines in the acoustically designed walls in the theater. The exterior curves are mimicked in the interior performance space.

Construction is change in action; transformation on a grand physical scale. Art, also, is change in action — a moment of tension, the creation of the artist conveyed through a performer to an audience. The impermanence of the moment juxtaposed with the searing meaning and perhaps, enduring memory in the minds of an audience.

This change, so welcome, so beautiful, so important to our culture. This building will play upon our identity and forever mark our commitment to our better instincts in innovation, art, engineering, craftsmanship.

It is a building of possibilities. It shows that there is unbound potential for us, as individuals and as a community.

In the corporate world, I used to marvel at the degree of specialization in the workforce. Tasks were split into smaller and smaller bits and assembled across silo’ed organizations. And leaders wondered why it was so hard to get everyone focused on the same mission.

In technology, we continue to break everything into tinier and tinier bits. Think of network technology (packet switching, dissembling and reassembling bits right this instant!), and the increasingly specialized areas of research and academics. We keep slicing our focus smaller.

It’s the same with time. We’re driven by the clock, to make use of every minute. Too bad that too often we’re just satisfying ourselves with an illusion of activity.  Hmm, do I really need to check the stock market again? Or Facebook? Am I making a connection or avoiding one?

This week I found a nice way to connect. Individually, working alone but as part of a world movement. Another form of crowdsourcing, there’s a movement to make it easy for the app-carrying masses to spend a few seconds contributing money, time or intellect to others.

It’s a kind of hive-help to museums, schools and libraries. Called The Extraordinaries, it’s an app for micro-volunteering from your mobile phone. You can select a program to support, and within seconds, you can be helping with a project — for example, translating film dialog, tagging items from historic photo collections, supporting research.

Some of The Extraordinaries’ projects:  for Cornell University, collect data on urban birds; for the Smithsonian, help build a search engine for vintage photos and artwork by tagging images; help the Bibliotheque de Toulouse or the Brooklyn Museum tag their photo collections. You can help Greenpeace or the Library of Congress. Non-profits can apply to add their work to The Extraordinaries’ portfolio of projects.

The Extraordinaries, backed by a strong investment team featuring Kapor Ventures of Silicon Valley and Esther Dyson, among others, has secured $1.135 million in funding.  The company describes itself as for-profit social enterprise and is applying to become a B-corp.  (More on that later.)

Tiny bits of time, given to a bigger cause. This can’t help but catch on.