The Power of Music

Annamaria on Monday

I am writing this in the hopes that it will spread the word about the power of music in one important sphere.

This is David and me in in South Africa in 2004, just as his sun was beginning to set.

He is now well into the fourteenth year of Alzheimer's disease that began when he was only 67.  He has been in residential care for just over three years now.  Visiting him is difficult in many ways.

One of the things that struck me early on, is how boring was the music in the otherwise lovely place where he lives.  His neurologist had told me ten years ago that music was the last thing to go.

 

Most of the videos and CDs the staff played for the residents was music that would have appealed to my grandmother: "Cruising Down the River," "She'll be Comin' Round the Mountain," "Goodnight Irene."  Really?  Is the best they can do?

One Sunday morning's observation: playing on the TV in the activities room was a video of a bunch well-groomed, preppy looking white people singing "On Moonlight Bay."  This song comes into the story of Idol of Mombasa, where my characters sing it.  Vera and Justin Tolliver loved it, because it was the latest thing.  IN 1912!!  Looking around at the people in the activities room, I saw two things.  Many of them were my age or a decade or so older, and they were not all white.  With that boring music playing in the background, many of them had fallen asleep.  Even the ones who were awake were fidgety.  Just as bored as I was with the selections.

The next song put me over the edge: "Nearer my God to Thee."  Were those words supposed to be comforting?  A warning?  It seemed cruel, under the circumstances.

What would happen if the residents heard the music that was the soundtrack of their lives.  Making such a suggestion to the management brought no positive response.  I took matters into my own hands.  The next week I went back with a disk burned on my home computer that I labelled "Happy Music."  Songs they would recognise.  Elvis.  Frank Sinatra.  Judy Collins.  Chuck Berry.  "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" from the original Broadway cast of "Oklahoma."

That morning the crowd in the activities room was just falling asleep after their 10:30 snack.  I asked permission of the activities coordinator to replace the Christian hymn video with my totally secular music.  When the changeover took place, the first song was Elvis singing "Can't Help Falling in Love with You."  Eyes opened.  Soon heads began to move to the music.  People were swaying in their wheelchairs.

Alan, who still had the erect carriage of the career soldier he had been, said, "I haven't heard this song in years.  I used to play this on the radio station on the base in Germany.  The Germans loved this  song."

When Judy Collins began to sing "Both Sides Now," Ann--who had always seemed cranky--smiled and sat up straight.  Half a minute into the song, she began to sing along in a clear, sweet voice.  She knew every word.  She smiled for the rest of the morning.

Everyone sang along or mouthed the words to "Oh What a Beautiful Morning."

Best of all, was what happened to Linda.  She is a very tiny woman, with shoulder length white hair.  I had never seen her do anything but sit immobile, half-reclined in her chair, with her head to one side and her eyes closed, seemingly nearly comatose.  Her walker sat before her, but I had never seen her move.  Now she was moving from side to side, and tapping her foot.  And then something that looked nothing less than miraculous.  Along came Bob Seger singing, "That Old Time Rock n' Roll."  She sat up, her whole body started to move.  She grasped her walker, rose have way out of her seat, and danced to the words, "That kinda music just soothes my soul..."

Bingo!

Fourteen home-made CD playlists later, 280 songs in total, and the music is still doing its magic.

A few weeks ago, David went into the hospital for treatment of an infection.  While there, he remained compliant, but I could tell he was uncomfortable.  I brought along my laptop and played one of his favorites,"Appalachian Spring," for him.  Though blind now and unable to speak, he looked toward the music.  His demeanour calmed.  His face took on an almost beatific expression.  Something wonderful to me.

I described the event to a friend who had asked about David.  She told me of a documentary called "Alive Inside," which I have since watched.  It recounts how other people have benefited from the palliative effect of listening to the right music.  The folks in the film have suffered great losses through dementia, Alzheimers, and other mental illnesses.  A volunteer at a nursing home found that playing the right music for them brought out their inner selves.  Featured in the film are doctors, social workers and the renowned Oliver Sacks.   The flick is available on Netflix, YouTube, and its own website.  Don't worry.  You can watch it.  It will not make you sad.  It is joyous, like my days watching people in David's care home come alive to the soundtracks deep in their memories.  Here's a clip from film.

If you need to get back in touch with someone still alive inside, but difficult to reach, I urge you to bring them the right music.  It will lift your spirits like nothing else.