10/20/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 24, 2015:
On the Roselawn Manor assisted living side, one of the nurse aides was deep into a political rant when I arrived with my autoharp, and I joined in with my own opinions.. An outspoken resident who loves to sing high harmonies put an abrupt stop to it all by saying, "Time's a-wasting! Get singing! We are missing our music time!"
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 24, 2015:
On the Roselawn Manor assisted living side, one of the nurse aides was deep into a political rant when I arrived with my autoharp, and I joined in with my own opinions.. An outspoken resident who loves to sing high harmonies put an abrupt stop to it all by saying, "Time's a-wasting! Get singing! We are missing our music time!"
10/5/2020
The singalong at Magnolia Springs has been held outside because of COVID 19, and it has been a blessing to me. Last week it was cold outside, and the staff asked me to stand outside with the door open while the residents were inside. This sounded like a great idea, and it was, but the folks were chilly with the draft from outside. Blankets were handed out, and everyone was soon bundled up for our singalong. Everyone sang along with the ukulele, and it warmed all our hearts to sing together.
Today we tried something different. I sat outside the windows of the common room with the windows cracked open enough that the folks could see and hear me. I couldn't see them very well because of the glare from the screen, and I couldn't hear them well, but I know they had a good time because they laughed and applauded.
The singalong at Magnolia Springs has been held outside because of COVID 19, and it has been a blessing to me. Last week it was cold outside, and the staff asked me to stand outside with the door open while the residents were inside. This sounded like a great idea, and it was, but the folks were chilly with the draft from outside. Blankets were handed out, and everyone was soon bundled up for our singalong. Everyone sang along with the ukulele, and it warmed all our hearts to sing together.
Today we tried something different. I sat outside the windows of the common room with the windows cracked open enough that the folks could see and hear me. I couldn't see them very well because of the glare from the screen, and I couldn't hear them well, but I know they had a good time because they laughed and applauded.
Creativity is the key to getting volunteers back into our hospitals and nursing facilities.
I don't know what the next months will hold. It's getting cooler here in Ohio.
Thank you to the caregivers, activity directors, and coordinators who must fill the gap left by all the missing volunteers. We volunteers know that the coronavirus is only temporary, and we have filled our time with other meaningful activities, but we can't wait to return.
We miss you.
9/28/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from March 20, 2016:
Herb and I watched the documentary Alive Inside. It's amazing what music can do for patients with Alzheimer's or dementia. The film mostly shows patients with iPods filled with favorite music from each patient's youth. Patients truly come alive, and this can be replicated! Live music is great, but there is only one of me. These iPods can be listened to all day every day. Alive Inside is a powerful film of hope. Of course, I will keep doing what I do, but I'm spreading the word about this.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from March 20, 2016:
Herb and I watched the documentary Alive Inside. It's amazing what music can do for patients with Alzheimer's or dementia. The film mostly shows patients with iPods filled with favorite music from each patient's youth. Patients truly come alive, and this can be replicated! Live music is great, but there is only one of me. These iPods can be listened to all day every day. Alive Inside is a powerful film of hope. Of course, I will keep doing what I do, but I'm spreading the word about this.
9/14/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 11, 2015:
I was finishing up at Roselawn Manor with my mountain dulcimer when I walked through the fireside lounge. A family was visiting a resident of the nursing home, and one of the visitors was playing a banjo. I stopped to listen, and we ended up talking, singing, and swapping stories. The patient said repeatedly that he needed to go brush his teeth; then he could play his harmonica.
The family confirmed that indeed the man could play the harmonica back in the day. However, nobody was certain if he even had a harmonica any longer. No one had heard him play in years. Could he even find it if he still had one? He is always so confused.
The patient insisted that he could still play, but he had to go brush his teeth first.
I wish I could have handed him a harmonica to see if he could still play!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 11, 2015:
I was finishing up at Roselawn Manor with my mountain dulcimer when I walked through the fireside lounge. A family was visiting a resident of the nursing home, and one of the visitors was playing a banjo. I stopped to listen, and we ended up talking, singing, and swapping stories. The patient said repeatedly that he needed to go brush his teeth; then he could play his harmonica.
The family confirmed that indeed the man could play the harmonica back in the day. However, nobody was certain if he even had a harmonica any longer. No one had heard him play in years. Could he even find it if he still had one? He is always so confused.
The patient insisted that he could still play, but he had to go brush his teeth first.
I wish I could have handed him a harmonica to see if he could still play!
9/3/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 9, 2016:
Today I sang with my ukulele at St. Rita's hospital for a woman who was dancing beneath the sheets and smiling like crazy. She told me that I lifted her spirits last week when I played my banjo and sang for her. Last week she was paralyzed, and she was told that she would likely never walk again. Well, she's not paralyzed now!
The music didn't heal her, but she sang my praises for helping her through a difficult time.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 9, 2016:
Today I sang with my ukulele at St. Rita's hospital for a woman who was dancing beneath the sheets and smiling like crazy. She told me that I lifted her spirits last week when I played my banjo and sang for her. Last week she was paralyzed, and she was told that she would likely never walk again. Well, she's not paralyzed now!
The music didn't heal her, but she sang my praises for helping her through a difficult time.
8/26/2020
For the first time since March 11, I led the singalong at Magnolia Springs. It looked different in light of the COVID 19 pandemic. Visitors are still not allowed in the building. We held the singalong outside on the covered patio. Patients were socially distanced; chairs were placed 6 feet apart. All staff wore masks. I wore a mask long enough to greet Jamie, the activities director. She took my temperature and made me fill out paperwork stating that I wasn't sick and I haven't been near anyone else who is sick.
Preliminaries finished, I took off my mask and waited for folks to arrive. There were several new faces, and some faces were missing. Many residents knew all the words and sang along. We had a grand time as we sang songs accompanied by the ukulele. Everyone who was able spontaneously stood when we sang the patriotic songs, and before I knew it, our time was up. One of the residents always used to give me a big hug before I left, but today we had to do "air hugs".
I have missed these old souls. Yes, our time together today was different, but I'm so glad we were able to share the music again. Jamie contacted me after I returned home to ask if we could do this again three times in September. Yes! I can't wait!
For the first time since March 11, I led the singalong at Magnolia Springs. It looked different in light of the COVID 19 pandemic. Visitors are still not allowed in the building. We held the singalong outside on the covered patio. Patients were socially distanced; chairs were placed 6 feet apart. All staff wore masks. I wore a mask long enough to greet Jamie, the activities director. She took my temperature and made me fill out paperwork stating that I wasn't sick and I haven't been near anyone else who is sick.
Preliminaries finished, I took off my mask and waited for folks to arrive. There were several new faces, and some faces were missing. Many residents knew all the words and sang along. We had a grand time as we sang songs accompanied by the ukulele. Everyone who was able spontaneously stood when we sang the patriotic songs, and before I knew it, our time was up. One of the residents always used to give me a big hug before I left, but today we had to do "air hugs".
I have missed these old souls. Yes, our time together today was different, but I'm so glad we were able to share the music again. Jamie contacted me after I returned home to ask if we could do this again three times in September. Yes! I can't wait!
8/17/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 25, 2016:
I always have to listen very closely when Paddy talks because his tongue protrudes, but I always take the time to listen. Paddy has a great sense of humor, and we have much in common. He tells me that he used to dance, and he used to play in the Wapak Eagles drum and bugle corps. Every time I come to play music for him, he pulls up his tray table and keeps a rhythm going. Paddy has so much fun, and I get a kick out of him. Today he had the aides in stitches because he was showing off for them with his riffs. He never misses a beat!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 25, 2016:
I always have to listen very closely when Paddy talks because his tongue protrudes, but I always take the time to listen. Paddy has a great sense of humor, and we have much in common. He tells me that he used to dance, and he used to play in the Wapak Eagles drum and bugle corps. Every time I come to play music for him, he pulls up his tray table and keeps a rhythm going. Paddy has so much fun, and I get a kick out of him. Today he had the aides in stitches because he was showing off for them with his riffs. He never misses a beat!
8/12/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 13, 2015:
A gentleman visitor didn't sing "You Are My Sunshine" with me when I sang for his wife in the hospital bed. As I was leaving, however, he said he knew a whole bunch of different verses. He sang three verses to "You Are My Sunshine" that I had never heard before. They were about Katie. I tried looking them up online with no luck!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 13, 2015:
A gentleman visitor didn't sing "You Are My Sunshine" with me when I sang for his wife in the hospital bed. As I was leaving, however, he said he knew a whole bunch of different verses. He sang three verses to "You Are My Sunshine" that I had never heard before. They were about Katie. I tried looking them up online with no luck!
7/26/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from December 9, 2015:
Leelee was one of the first hospice patients I have had the privilege of visiting. At first Leelee was hard to pin down. Often I couldn't find her because she was at the craft table in the activity room.
Whenever I visited her, she would always ask how I was doing. She told me how she always liked to visit other residents to see if they needed anything. Her crafts were often gifts to me or others.
Now Leelee is getting frail, and she is bedridden, but she is still thinking of others. Today she asked me to go get her neighbor across the hall, "because you know Georgia loves to sing with us".
After our little singing session, Leelee took my hand and prayed for me and blessed my ministry to her and others.
Note: This was the last time I got to sing with Leelee. She passed away a week later. I will never forget her kindness.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from December 9, 2015:
Leelee was one of the first hospice patients I have had the privilege of visiting. At first Leelee was hard to pin down. Often I couldn't find her because she was at the craft table in the activity room.
Whenever I visited her, she would always ask how I was doing. She told me how she always liked to visit other residents to see if they needed anything. Her crafts were often gifts to me or others.
Now Leelee is getting frail, and she is bedridden, but she is still thinking of others. Today she asked me to go get her neighbor across the hall, "because you know Georgia loves to sing with us".
After our little singing session, Leelee took my hand and prayed for me and blessed my ministry to her and others.
Note: This was the last time I got to sing with Leelee. She passed away a week later. I will never forget her kindness.
7/16/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 17, 2015:
A friend at Roselawn Nursing Home has a very flat affect, but mostly he looks confused. He hasn't spoken to me for some time. Usually I can't even hold eye contact with him.
Today I took my mountain dulcimer to Roselawn and sat in a corner out of the way but next to my friend's table. Not only did I hold his gaze, but I swear he winked at me!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 17, 2015:
A friend at Roselawn Nursing Home has a very flat affect, but mostly he looks confused. He hasn't spoken to me for some time. Usually I can't even hold eye contact with him.
Today I took my mountain dulcimer to Roselawn and sat in a corner out of the way but next to my friend's table. Not only did I hold his gaze, but I swear he winked at me!
7/6/2020
Fourth of July weekend is always Herb's big family reunion. Herb's mother was one of 15 children, and the family still gets together twice a year, despite the fact that all of the original 15 children are long ago deceased.
This year the reunion looked very different because of COVID: no pot luck, no bouncy houses, no serve-yourself snow cone or nacho machines. Meals were served by family members in masks and gloves. The reunion was one day instead of three.
I always take an instrument or two to the family reunion, and this year my ukulele came along for the ride.
One cousin from Florida made my day when she told me that she had been following this blog. Anna Kate, her 14-year-old daughter, was learning to play the guitar, but could I show her daughter some things on the ukulele? Of course!
The two of us talked about the differences and similarities between the uke and the guitar. I played and sang a couple songs, and Anna Kate wanted to try it out.
She was a natural. After mastering "You Are My Sunshine", we went on to "Glory, Glory Hallelujah", and we passed the time playing, singing, and chatting until we had to break for lunch.
Thank you, Anna Kate, for taking on the role of musician in this world. Even if you choose someday to make a living with your other talents, music can be a way for you to make meaningful connections with people. Spread happiness!
Fourth of July weekend is always Herb's big family reunion. Herb's mother was one of 15 children, and the family still gets together twice a year, despite the fact that all of the original 15 children are long ago deceased.
This year the reunion looked very different because of COVID: no pot luck, no bouncy houses, no serve-yourself snow cone or nacho machines. Meals were served by family members in masks and gloves. The reunion was one day instead of three.
I always take an instrument or two to the family reunion, and this year my ukulele came along for the ride.
One cousin from Florida made my day when she told me that she had been following this blog. Anna Kate, her 14-year-old daughter, was learning to play the guitar, but could I show her daughter some things on the ukulele? Of course!
The two of us talked about the differences and similarities between the uke and the guitar. I played and sang a couple songs, and Anna Kate wanted to try it out.
She was a natural. After mastering "You Are My Sunshine", we went on to "Glory, Glory Hallelujah", and we passed the time playing, singing, and chatting until we had to break for lunch.
Thank you, Anna Kate, for taking on the role of musician in this world. Even if you choose someday to make a living with your other talents, music can be a way for you to make meaningful connections with people. Spread happiness!
6/29/2020
Today I was honored to be a guest on The Pause, a podcast that Herb Schumm and Valerie Marquardt take turns hosting for Mercy Bon Secours health care professionals. Every morning The Pause provides an opportunity for folks to stop, reflect, connect and learn from each other. This is what I had to share:
1. Music engages pathways between left and right brain.
An elder patient who can’t speak can often sing loudly and proudly songs he learned in his youth.
2. Music elicits physical and emotional responses.
Natural physical responses are clapping, tapping toes, and dancing. At Fairfield Mercy I once encountered a patient with a walker. Her physical therapist was at her side. When I came up alongside them with my ukulele and sang “Ain’t she sweet? See her walking down the street…”, she walked and “danced” in time to the music. She no longer had to think to place her feet.
Emotional responses are smiles, laughter, and tears. When I sing a hymn, folks are often reminded of their spirituality. These emotional responses often trigger stories.
3. Music is something we all have in common.
On New Year's Day 2020, I was singing with my banjo in the Emergency Department when I came upon an older gentleman in obvious pain. His two sons were with him, and they translated for me. Would the patient like a little song? Usually patients in distress wave me off, but this man wanted a song. I sang a slow, soothing, and soft “'Deed I Am in Love with You".
One of the sons closed his eyes and touched his heart and said that sometimes he sings the old time Hindi songs and something speaks to his soul. His brother agreed that music is that thing within us that we all have in common, and it unites us.
Music can be healing and motivational and moving. That's something I get, too, and it brought two cultures together in a tiny hospital room.
At Herb's request, I ended The Pause with "Amazing Grace" on the Celtic harp.
Today I was honored to be a guest on The Pause, a podcast that Herb Schumm and Valerie Marquardt take turns hosting for Mercy Bon Secours health care professionals. Every morning The Pause provides an opportunity for folks to stop, reflect, connect and learn from each other. This is what I had to share:
1. Music engages pathways between left and right brain.
An elder patient who can’t speak can often sing loudly and proudly songs he learned in his youth.
2. Music elicits physical and emotional responses.
Natural physical responses are clapping, tapping toes, and dancing. At Fairfield Mercy I once encountered a patient with a walker. Her physical therapist was at her side. When I came up alongside them with my ukulele and sang “Ain’t she sweet? See her walking down the street…”, she walked and “danced” in time to the music. She no longer had to think to place her feet.
Emotional responses are smiles, laughter, and tears. When I sing a hymn, folks are often reminded of their spirituality. These emotional responses often trigger stories.
3. Music is something we all have in common.
On New Year's Day 2020, I was singing with my banjo in the Emergency Department when I came upon an older gentleman in obvious pain. His two sons were with him, and they translated for me. Would the patient like a little song? Usually patients in distress wave me off, but this man wanted a song. I sang a slow, soothing, and soft “'Deed I Am in Love with You".
One of the sons closed his eyes and touched his heart and said that sometimes he sings the old time Hindi songs and something speaks to his soul. His brother agreed that music is that thing within us that we all have in common, and it unites us.
Music can be healing and motivational and moving. That's something I get, too, and it brought two cultures together in a tiny hospital room.
At Herb's request, I ended The Pause with "Amazing Grace" on the Celtic harp.
6/23/2020
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 24, 2016:
Fifi continues to entertain me. Today she told this wonderful story from when she was young: Fifi and her friends waited until the lights at the nuns' house went out. They then stole huge quince from the trees. The lights came back on, and they all went running. Fifi's friends ate their quince like apples. Fifii took a big bite of hers, and it was so sour, she said, "God's getting me back for stealing the nuns' quince!"
We laughed and talked a little more about her childhood, and we sang songs in between the stories.
At one point, Fifi mentioned her Italian family, and I said, "How about a Frank Sinatra song?"
Fifi said, "Oh, my father didn't like Frank Sinatra. He was mafiosa."
I sang Frank's "Fly Me to the Moon", but Fifi did NOT sing along.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 24, 2016:
Fifi continues to entertain me. Today she told this wonderful story from when she was young: Fifi and her friends waited until the lights at the nuns' house went out. They then stole huge quince from the trees. The lights came back on, and they all went running. Fifi's friends ate their quince like apples. Fifii took a big bite of hers, and it was so sour, she said, "God's getting me back for stealing the nuns' quince!"
We laughed and talked a little more about her childhood, and we sang songs in between the stories.
At one point, Fifi mentioned her Italian family, and I said, "How about a Frank Sinatra song?"
Fifi said, "Oh, my father didn't like Frank Sinatra. He was mafiosa."
I sang Frank's "Fly Me to the Moon", but Fifi did NOT sing along.
6/20/20
The Wanderer is now wandering the streets of gold. She has all her faculties, and she's whistling away with all those harps!
The Wanderer is now wandering the streets of gold. She has all her faculties, and she's whistling away with all those harps!
6/15/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 16, 2015:
A rehab patient greeted me with, "I KNEW you'd be here! I told my wife that it's Tuesday, and the musician will be here!" Last week I had my ukulele, and I sang two songs for him. Today I brought my banjo. The patient said his wife would be right back; would I mind going down the hall, sing for others, and return to his room so that his wife could meet me?
Of course.
When I came back around to his room, his wife was in the room getting him ready to go home. I sang a couple of songs to a smiling couple. It seems I may have made his hospital stay a little brighter.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 16, 2015:
A rehab patient greeted me with, "I KNEW you'd be here! I told my wife that it's Tuesday, and the musician will be here!" Last week I had my ukulele, and I sang two songs for him. Today I brought my banjo. The patient said his wife would be right back; would I mind going down the hall, sing for others, and return to his room so that his wife could meet me?
Of course.
When I came back around to his room, his wife was in the room getting him ready to go home. I sang a couple of songs to a smiling couple. It seems I may have made his hospital stay a little brighter.
6/1/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 5, 2015:
Today I roamed the halls of St. Rita's Medical Center with my banjo. In one patient's room, a bunch of family members were gathered around their mother's bed. She was very ill. One of the sons asked if I knew "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" He said he was learning all the verses, and he would love to sing it with me. I hesitated, but I hate to turn down a song request.
Big mistake.
By the time we hit the second verse, everyone was bawling, and I was the only one left singing.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice.
Restaurants and bars are beginning to reopen, and so are churches, but there are new restrictions in place.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are in this state of uncertainty, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from May 5, 2015:
Today I roamed the halls of St. Rita's Medical Center with my banjo. In one patient's room, a bunch of family members were gathered around their mother's bed. She was very ill. One of the sons asked if I knew "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" He said he was learning all the verses, and he would love to sing it with me. I hesitated, but I hate to turn down a song request.
Big mistake.
By the time we hit the second verse, everyone was bawling, and I was the only one left singing.
I was standing by my window
On a cold, dark, cloudy day,
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they carried my mother away.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
Undertaker, undertaker,
Undertaker, please drive slow
For the lady you are hauling,
How I hate to see her go.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
I followed close behind her
Trying to hold up and be brave,
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in the grave.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
Went back home, Lord, my home was lonesome
Since my mama, she was gone.
All my brothers and sisters crying
In that home so sad and alone.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
On a cold, dark, cloudy day,
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they carried my mother away.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
Undertaker, undertaker,
Undertaker, please drive slow
For the lady you are hauling,
How I hate to see her go.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
I followed close behind her
Trying to hold up and be brave,
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in the grave.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
Went back home, Lord, my home was lonesome
Since my mama, she was gone.
All my brothers and sisters crying
In that home so sad and alone.
Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by?
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
I usually avoid singing "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" after I sang it with my own mother in attendance at a church mother-daughter banquet years ago. (Awkward!) Old-timers, however, request it quite often. It was the first song labeled Country Music by the record companies, and The Carter Family was the iconic group to record it. Now I always think twice before singing it.
5/22/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 9, 2015:
Up on pediatrics a little blond-headed boy was SCREAMING during his breathing treatment. The nurses caring for him were exasperated and said that this was his normal. I went in to sing to him, and even though he was still agitated, he became quieter as I sang. His mother was holding him, and she said that she could tell he was relaxing. After his treatment, four girls (sisters, aunts, cousins?) sang "You Are My Sunshine" with me, and he stopped his yelling altogether. He calmed down, but I wasn't far down the hall before he started wailing again.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from June 9, 2015:
Up on pediatrics a little blond-headed boy was SCREAMING during his breathing treatment. The nurses caring for him were exasperated and said that this was his normal. I went in to sing to him, and even though he was still agitated, he became quieter as I sang. His mother was holding him, and she said that she could tell he was relaxing. After his treatment, four girls (sisters, aunts, cousins?) sang "You Are My Sunshine" with me, and he stopped his yelling altogether. He calmed down, but I wasn't far down the hall before he started wailing again.
5/8/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 8, 2016:
A friend's mother went into hospice, and I was asked to visit by both the hospice association and the family. I texted back and forth with my friend for an appropriate time to visit because my friend wanted to be there. She explained that the family "sang Dad into heaven", and now her mother's time was coming.
When I arrived with my banjo at 11:00 a.m. today the room was full of relatives. We sang hymn after hymn while the patient slept and the family cried.
At 3:15 p.m. my friend texted me:
Friend: Mama is in heaven.
Me: A blessing. I'll remember your family in my prayers. God bless you for making her final hours special for her AND you!
Friend: You were sent from heaven!!!! Thank you!!!!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 8, 2016:
A friend's mother went into hospice, and I was asked to visit by both the hospice association and the family. I texted back and forth with my friend for an appropriate time to visit because my friend wanted to be there. She explained that the family "sang Dad into heaven", and now her mother's time was coming.
When I arrived with my banjo at 11:00 a.m. today the room was full of relatives. We sang hymn after hymn while the patient slept and the family cried.
At 3:15 p.m. my friend texted me:
Friend: Mama is in heaven.
Me: A blessing. I'll remember your family in my prayers. God bless you for making her final hours special for her AND you!
Friend: You were sent from heaven!!!! Thank you!!!!
|
I learned some things:
I didn't have to know every hymn on the banjo. We sang some a cappella, and when we didn't know all the words, we hummed along with those who did. I didn't have to stay all day. I was there 30-ish minutes and it was sweet. Longer may have turned awkward for the family and me. We didn't have to sing the whole time. I found that my friend wanted to talk about her mother's life, and we talked in the hallway afterwards. Family members were at different places in their grief. Part of the family had just arrived from Colorado, and they were emotional, especially the granddaughters who I think were upset because dad was crying his eyes out. Others were upbeat and ready for what was to come. |
4/28/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is pre-2015:
A hospice patient that I see once a week knows all the words to the old hymns, but she is very weak. Her two adult daughters came to visit while I was singing today. I delightedly told them that I loved singing for their mother. "She sings along with all the old hymns, and she knows all the words."
The daughters exchanged a confused look, and one of them said, "Well, that's new." They were stunned.
I gave my comments some thought. I explained that their mother was very weak and couldn't be heard, but she always moved her lips along with me as I sang, and she certainly DID know all the lyrics.
"Oh, that's our mom, all right," the daughter responded. "None of us can sing, but Mom taught us all to mouth the words when we were in church." We all had a good laugh.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is pre-2015:
A hospice patient that I see once a week knows all the words to the old hymns, but she is very weak. Her two adult daughters came to visit while I was singing today. I delightedly told them that I loved singing for their mother. "She sings along with all the old hymns, and she knows all the words."
The daughters exchanged a confused look, and one of them said, "Well, that's new." They were stunned.
I gave my comments some thought. I explained that their mother was very weak and couldn't be heard, but she always moved her lips along with me as I sang, and she certainly DID know all the lyrics.
"Oh, that's our mom, all right," the daughter responded. "None of us can sing, but Mom taught us all to mouth the words when we were in church." We all had a good laugh.
4/22/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 20, 2015.
Today at the hospital there was an Amish family from Berne, Indiana, visiting a relative. They sang "I'll Fly Away" with me, and we had a nice little chat about how much music meant to them. My banjo and I continued to make the rounds, and I caught one of the Amish men following me around listening to my songs. He was trying to be surreptitious as he peeked around corners. I was honored; I've never had an Amish fan club stalker before!
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 20, 2015.
Today at the hospital there was an Amish family from Berne, Indiana, visiting a relative. They sang "I'll Fly Away" with me, and we had a nice little chat about how much music meant to them. My banjo and I continued to make the rounds, and I caught one of the Amish men following me around listening to my songs. He was trying to be surreptitious as he peeked around corners. I was honored; I've never had an Amish fan club stalker before!
4/17/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is pre-2015:
As I was singing with my ukulele at St. Rita's Medical Center, I came upon a patient who looked to be in her twenties. As I sang "Stand By Me", she sang every word along with me. She was visibly moved. This young lady then proceeded to tell me that this song has always been a prayer for her.
Every time I sing this song now, I pray that Jesus stands by me.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is pre-2015:
As I was singing with my ukulele at St. Rita's Medical Center, I came upon a patient who looked to be in her twenties. As I sang "Stand By Me", she sang every word along with me. She was visibly moved. This young lady then proceeded to tell me that this song has always been a prayer for her.
Every time I sing this song now, I pray that Jesus stands by me.
When the night has come and the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
Oh, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as You stand, stand by me.
Oh, Darling, Darling, stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me.
And the moon is the only light we see
Oh, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as You stand, stand by me.
Oh, Darling, Darling, stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me.
4/10/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from July 19, 2016:
Fifi sang with me today, beautifully as ever, and then she told me, "I can't carry a tune. I don't have a pretty voice any more. But I love music. I always sing along in my head, and in my head I sound pretty good!"
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from July 19, 2016:
Fifi sang with me today, beautifully as ever, and then she told me, "I can't carry a tune. I don't have a pretty voice any more. But I love music. I always sing along in my head, and in my head I sound pretty good!"
4/4/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 9, 2016:
D.J. at Starbucks took my order and said, "Have a good day!" before I could pay. I laughed and said he would get fired if he didn't charge me.
While I was digging in my pockets for payment, D.J. told me that he was really sick and in the hospital early last summer. I sang to him and made his day while he was in that hospital bed. This latte is on him. Warm fuzzies all day from this one.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 9, 2016:
D.J. at Starbucks took my order and said, "Have a good day!" before I could pay. I laughed and said he would get fired if he didn't charge me.
While I was digging in my pockets for payment, D.J. told me that he was really sick and in the hospital early last summer. I sang to him and made his day while he was in that hospital bed. This latte is on him. Warm fuzzies all day from this one.
3/31/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 5, 2016:
I met a new hospice patient at Lochhaven today. I introduced myself and explained that the hospice folks thought she might like to hear some music. She perked up and said, "That would be nice."
I took out my banjo and sang "You Are My Sunshine", and she claimed she had never heard that song before today. Hmmm...
I asked if she knew the song "Jesus Loves Me." She did. We both sang it. Then she tearfully said, "Jesus doesn't love me."
Why did she think that? Because He hadn't taken her yet. She's ready to go, but she is still here. After we sang "Amazing Grace" together, I took her hand in mine and told her about my grandma.
Grandma once told me that she didn't know why God kept her here on earth so long. Well, I know why. Grandma prayed for me every day. I went through a really tough time in my life, and after I was through it, Grandma died.
I told my new patient that she has been here on earth for a reason. I don't know what that reason is, and maybe she doesn't know what that reason is, but there IS a reason. My patient smiled. And cried. We sang every hymn I could remember.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from January 5, 2016:
I met a new hospice patient at Lochhaven today. I introduced myself and explained that the hospice folks thought she might like to hear some music. She perked up and said, "That would be nice."
I took out my banjo and sang "You Are My Sunshine", and she claimed she had never heard that song before today. Hmmm...
I asked if she knew the song "Jesus Loves Me." She did. We both sang it. Then she tearfully said, "Jesus doesn't love me."
Why did she think that? Because He hadn't taken her yet. She's ready to go, but she is still here. After we sang "Amazing Grace" together, I took her hand in mine and told her about my grandma.
Grandma once told me that she didn't know why God kept her here on earth so long. Well, I know why. Grandma prayed for me every day. I went through a really tough time in my life, and after I was through it, Grandma died.
I told my new patient that she has been here on earth for a reason. I don't know what that reason is, and maybe she doesn't know what that reason is, but there IS a reason. My patient smiled. And cried. We sang every hymn I could remember.
3/24/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 4, 2015:
I sang along with my banjo over supper at Roselawn nursing home. I don't know if it was the time of day or the big snow we were getting, but everyone was in a good mood and sang along. One of the aides was amazed at a lady who is always confused. This patient knew all the words to all the songs and sang along effortlessly. As I was leaving I witnessed this same woman trying to stuff the TV remote into the Kleenex box.
Sometimes you just gotta laugh.
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from February 4, 2015:
I sang along with my banjo over supper at Roselawn nursing home. I don't know if it was the time of day or the big snow we were getting, but everyone was in a good mood and sang along. One of the aides was amazed at a lady who is always confused. This patient knew all the words to all the songs and sang along effortlessly. As I was leaving I witnessed this same woman trying to stuff the TV remote into the Kleenex box.
Sometimes you just gotta laugh.
3/17/20
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from April 26, 2016:
I play and sing for hospice client Fifi every Tuesday, and she is a trip. Fifi grew up in Lima, Ohio, in an Italian family, and she loves to sing along. After every song she tells a story of singing with the neighborhood kids or of her family or of the women down the street with a player piano.
Today Fifi told me that the Italian families she grew up with would get together at different neighborhood homes throughout the summer. After a few drinks, the singing would start. They would always end these parties by singing the Italian national anthem. She couldn't remember how it went, and she was disturbed.
I went on Youtube to find it for her, but the first video was an orchestral version (no singing), and she said that wasn't it. I kept searching as she was starting to remember pieces of it, but none of the videos was the same song.
Frustrated, Fifi finally exclaimed, "Not that one. You know, the Italian national anthem before Mussolini!"
These are strange times in our country. COVID 19, a coronavirus, is widespread throughout the world. Herb is working from home, and all my hospice, nursing home, and hospital visits have been canceled until further notice. Restaurants and bars are closed except for carryout service. Schools are closed. We are practicing social distancing. Most churches are choosing to suspend their gatherings as well.
I have been journaling amazing musical experiences since before this blog was created, and while we are housebound, I'll share some of my journal entries from the past. This one is from April 26, 2016:
I play and sing for hospice client Fifi every Tuesday, and she is a trip. Fifi grew up in Lima, Ohio, in an Italian family, and she loves to sing along. After every song she tells a story of singing with the neighborhood kids or of her family or of the women down the street with a player piano.
Today Fifi told me that the Italian families she grew up with would get together at different neighborhood homes throughout the summer. After a few drinks, the singing would start. They would always end these parties by singing the Italian national anthem. She couldn't remember how it went, and she was disturbed.
I went on Youtube to find it for her, but the first video was an orchestral version (no singing), and she said that wasn't it. I kept searching as she was starting to remember pieces of it, but none of the videos was the same song.
Frustrated, Fifi finally exclaimed, "Not that one. You know, the Italian national anthem before Mussolini!"
3/4/20
Today I sang at the hospital with my ukulele, and I thought I was blessing the patients, but this time a visitor blessed me.
As I was leaving a patient room, the visitor followed me out. She was holding a photograph, and she told me the story of her friend whose refrigerator had a little leak. The repairman couldn't get to it for a couple of weeks, but she was in no hurry. When the repairman finally did come, this is what he found.
She showed me the photo. Ice sculpture Jesus for real. This woman reminded me that God is all around us; we just have to keep our eyes and hearts open for Him to show Himself to us.
Thank you, God, for showing Yourself to us every day. Help us to find You in the chaos and the noise of our lives.
Today I sang at the hospital with my ukulele, and I thought I was blessing the patients, but this time a visitor blessed me.
As I was leaving a patient room, the visitor followed me out. She was holding a photograph, and she told me the story of her friend whose refrigerator had a little leak. The repairman couldn't get to it for a couple of weeks, but she was in no hurry. When the repairman finally did come, this is what he found.
She showed me the photo. Ice sculpture Jesus for real. This woman reminded me that God is all around us; we just have to keep our eyes and hearts open for Him to show Himself to us.
Thank you, God, for showing Yourself to us every day. Help us to find You in the chaos and the noise of our lives.
2/27/20
Poolman is a patient at Otterbein. He comes alive every time I see him. He loves music. He claps along, sings, and talks about playing this or that song on his saxophone. I have only seen Poolman with a smile on his face. He is animated and cheerful.
Today the gals in the kitchen and the nurse were communicating something behind my back as I was playing and singing with the mountain dulcimer. Poolman wasn't eating. His wheelchair was turned toward me, and he was clapping and grinning like crazy. The nurse was in happy tears. Everyone was smiling. Hmmm...
As I was leaving, the staff all told me to hurry back. I asked about Poolman. Apparently he is Trouble with a capital T. He yells at the staff. He is demanding and mean. When I come to play, they have a 20-minute reprieve while Poolman immerses himself in the music. We talked briefly about how to bring more music into his situation, but frankly I'm stumped. He has a TV. Would recorded music bring the same effect as live music? I'm going to think on it.
Stay tuned.
Poolman is a patient at Otterbein. He comes alive every time I see him. He loves music. He claps along, sings, and talks about playing this or that song on his saxophone. I have only seen Poolman with a smile on his face. He is animated and cheerful.
Today the gals in the kitchen and the nurse were communicating something behind my back as I was playing and singing with the mountain dulcimer. Poolman wasn't eating. His wheelchair was turned toward me, and he was clapping and grinning like crazy. The nurse was in happy tears. Everyone was smiling. Hmmm...
As I was leaving, the staff all told me to hurry back. I asked about Poolman. Apparently he is Trouble with a capital T. He yells at the staff. He is demanding and mean. When I come to play, they have a 20-minute reprieve while Poolman immerses himself in the music. We talked briefly about how to bring more music into his situation, but frankly I'm stumped. He has a TV. Would recorded music bring the same effect as live music? I'm going to think on it.
Stay tuned.
2/13/20
Today as I was finishing up at Otterbein, I sang "Happy Trails", and my harmonica-playing friend said, "I had the privilege of knowing the people who made that song popular."
"Really?" I said. "How did you know Roy Rogers and Dale Evans? You know, Dale Evans actually wrote that song."
He went on to tell me that he used to volunteer on this end of the Billy Graham crusades whenever they came to Cincinnati, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans often were singers for the crusades. My friend got to know them a little bit in the times they were here.
It seems many of the folks I come in contact with have gotten to know someone famous! (See 1/28/20).
Today as I was finishing up at Otterbein, I sang "Happy Trails", and my harmonica-playing friend said, "I had the privilege of knowing the people who made that song popular."
"Really?" I said. "How did you know Roy Rogers and Dale Evans? You know, Dale Evans actually wrote that song."
He went on to tell me that he used to volunteer on this end of the Billy Graham crusades whenever they came to Cincinnati, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans often were singers for the crusades. My friend got to know them a little bit in the times they were here.
It seems many of the folks I come in contact with have gotten to know someone famous! (See 1/28/20).
2/11/20
For the last few weeks, Lumpy (see 1/6/20) has been his Lumpy ol' self. He has rarely made eye contact, has spoken little, and has been more interested in his lunch than in me and the music. I've tried everything to get the animated Lumpy from a few weeks ago to reappear, but no joke, conversation starter, or leading question would engage him. So I just kept on with the music. I'd sing for 30-45 minutes while he ate and pounded his cup loudly on the table for more to drink.
But then today Lumpy called me by name and looked me in the eye when I arrived with the ukulele. We talked about his family and his childhood nickname, "Pretty Boy". I sang songs and sometimes he even mouthed the words. He ate his lunch as we talked and sang.
I wish I knew what the trigger was. I like this Lumpy. Is it his medication? Is it something I do or say? Is it how tired or hungry he is? I don't know. I just hope that this engaged version of Lumpy comes out more often!
For the last few weeks, Lumpy (see 1/6/20) has been his Lumpy ol' self. He has rarely made eye contact, has spoken little, and has been more interested in his lunch than in me and the music. I've tried everything to get the animated Lumpy from a few weeks ago to reappear, but no joke, conversation starter, or leading question would engage him. So I just kept on with the music. I'd sing for 30-45 minutes while he ate and pounded his cup loudly on the table for more to drink.
But then today Lumpy called me by name and looked me in the eye when I arrived with the ukulele. We talked about his family and his childhood nickname, "Pretty Boy". I sang songs and sometimes he even mouthed the words. He ate his lunch as we talked and sang.
I wish I knew what the trigger was. I like this Lumpy. Is it his medication? Is it something I do or say? Is it how tired or hungry he is? I don't know. I just hope that this engaged version of Lumpy comes out more often!
1/28/20
At the singalong at the nursing home, I said, "Let's sing a little Elvis."
After a nice rendition of "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You", the patient sitting next to me said, "When you have time some day, I'll have to tell you my Elvis story."
I was intrigued. "You knew Elvis?"
"KNEW him? I saw him all the time and talked to him many times when I was working in Louisville."
This was worth stopping the singalong for a trip down Memory Lane. I asked, "What was your job in Louisville that you got to know Elvis personally?"
Turns out, her job was finding work for the musicians who came to town. Elvis knew her by name and depended on her whenever he was in Louisville, and, according to her, she was his Gal Friday. She told tidbits of running errands for him and getting him places to play.
I'm guessing that several folks sitting around the circle of our little singalong have had a brush with greatness, but only a few of them still have the wherewithal to remember and actually tell it.
I do know that one gal in our group has a grandson who is a pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers. He came to visit her during one of our singalongs last year.
One gentleman loves to tell of the time he met Liberace and went to the famous pianist's house.
I'm going to keep poking their brains for more stories. It makes me happy to hear them, and I know it makes them happy to tell their stories to a willing listener.
At the singalong at the nursing home, I said, "Let's sing a little Elvis."
After a nice rendition of "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You", the patient sitting next to me said, "When you have time some day, I'll have to tell you my Elvis story."
I was intrigued. "You knew Elvis?"
"KNEW him? I saw him all the time and talked to him many times when I was working in Louisville."
This was worth stopping the singalong for a trip down Memory Lane. I asked, "What was your job in Louisville that you got to know Elvis personally?"
Turns out, her job was finding work for the musicians who came to town. Elvis knew her by name and depended on her whenever he was in Louisville, and, according to her, she was his Gal Friday. She told tidbits of running errands for him and getting him places to play.
I'm guessing that several folks sitting around the circle of our little singalong have had a brush with greatness, but only a few of them still have the wherewithal to remember and actually tell it.
I do know that one gal in our group has a grandson who is a pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers. He came to visit her during one of our singalongs last year.
One gentleman loves to tell of the time he met Liberace and went to the famous pianist's house.
I'm going to keep poking their brains for more stories. It makes me happy to hear them, and I know it makes them happy to tell their stories to a willing listener.
1/22/20
A few months ago I was at the hospital, and I looked in the side window of a patient's room. I saw a man who was up and alert and sitting in a side chair. Cracking the door, pulling aside the curtain, and peeking in with a little knock, I asked, "May I sing you a little song?"
Oops. Yes, the patient was sitting up. On a portable commode. And the stench was powerful.
I immediately backed out and uttered an apology. As I hurriedly pulled the curtain closed, I heard the patient ask, "Is that a banjo?"
I took a deep breath. Poking my head back in, I answered, "Yes, it is. Um, I'll just come back later."
This guy wasn't having it. His eyes grew big and round, and his smile was wide. "I LOVE the banjo!"
Holding my breath, I nodded and smiled and promptly closed the curtain and as the glass door was closing, I heard him say,"Wait! I have something to give you!"
Big breath. I put on a smile and tried not to gag as I pulled back the curtain to reveal him sitting on the commode, leaning over to the bedside table, and rummaging through the drawer. With no inhibitions whatsoever, he talked about his appreciation of music as he took his time, and I tried not to breathe. Oh, the smell.
After what seemed like ages, he handed me a little business card with his name on it, followed by "Retired US Marine Corps".
Crap. Now I really have to sing. I sang the quickest version of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah" ever heard by human ears, and, trying not to breathe, I thanked him for his service to our country.
Big gulps of air out in the hallway.
I will now take this opportunity to thank the healthcare workers everywhere who see (and smell) patients like this every day.
And now that some time has passed, I can laugh at the time I thanked a veteran for his service in the most unusual of circumstances!
A few months ago I was at the hospital, and I looked in the side window of a patient's room. I saw a man who was up and alert and sitting in a side chair. Cracking the door, pulling aside the curtain, and peeking in with a little knock, I asked, "May I sing you a little song?"
Oops. Yes, the patient was sitting up. On a portable commode. And the stench was powerful.
I immediately backed out and uttered an apology. As I hurriedly pulled the curtain closed, I heard the patient ask, "Is that a banjo?"
I took a deep breath. Poking my head back in, I answered, "Yes, it is. Um, I'll just come back later."
This guy wasn't having it. His eyes grew big and round, and his smile was wide. "I LOVE the banjo!"
Holding my breath, I nodded and smiled and promptly closed the curtain and as the glass door was closing, I heard him say,"Wait! I have something to give you!"
Big breath. I put on a smile and tried not to gag as I pulled back the curtain to reveal him sitting on the commode, leaning over to the bedside table, and rummaging through the drawer. With no inhibitions whatsoever, he talked about his appreciation of music as he took his time, and I tried not to breathe. Oh, the smell.
After what seemed like ages, he handed me a little business card with his name on it, followed by "Retired US Marine Corps".
Crap. Now I really have to sing. I sang the quickest version of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah" ever heard by human ears, and, trying not to breathe, I thanked him for his service to our country.
Big gulps of air out in the hallway.
I will now take this opportunity to thank the healthcare workers everywhere who see (and smell) patients like this every day.
And now that some time has passed, I can laugh at the time I thanked a veteran for his service in the most unusual of circumstances!
1/8/20
Today at the hospital I knocked at a patient's door and asked, "May I sing you a song?"
"If I can join you."
"Of course!"
I began to sing "You Are My Sunshine", my go-to singalong song.
Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. This fun-loving portly gentleman began drumming on his bare belly with his hands. He sang with a huge grin on his face as he continued to pat out a rhythm to accompany our voices. His visitor laughed and sang along, too. It was quite a concert to behold!
Today at the hospital I knocked at a patient's door and asked, "May I sing you a song?"
"If I can join you."
"Of course!"
I began to sing "You Are My Sunshine", my go-to singalong song.
Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. This fun-loving portly gentleman began drumming on his bare belly with his hands. He sang with a huge grin on his face as he continued to pat out a rhythm to accompany our voices. His visitor laughed and sang along, too. It was quite a concert to behold!
1/7/20
On Tuesdays I lead a singalong in the memory care unit of a local nursing home, and today I commented that a new year had come since I last sang with the folks there. What year is it? Not a single response. Crickets.
Later, as we were singing "Sentimental Journey", I asked, "What time do we leave?"
Five or six people in unison responded, "Seven!"
The mind is a complicated wonder. It still amazes me that several of these precious souls can sing every word to an old song, but many can't tell me their own names. I guess music is a way to provide a nice Sentimental Journey to "renew old memories" for the memory impaired.
On Tuesdays I lead a singalong in the memory care unit of a local nursing home, and today I commented that a new year had come since I last sang with the folks there. What year is it? Not a single response. Crickets.
Later, as we were singing "Sentimental Journey", I asked, "What time do we leave?"
Five or six people in unison responded, "Seven!"
The mind is a complicated wonder. It still amazes me that several of these precious souls can sing every word to an old song, but many can't tell me their own names. I guess music is a way to provide a nice Sentimental Journey to "renew old memories" for the memory impaired.
Gonna take a sentimental journey.
Gonna set my heart at ease.
Gonna take a sentimental journey
To renew old memories.
Got my bag; I got my reservation.
Spent each dime I could afford.
Like a child in wild anticipation,
I long to hear that "All aboard!"
Seven: That's the time we leave, at seven.
I'll be waiting up for heaven.
Counting every mile of railroad track
That takes me back.
Never thought my heart could be so yearny.
Why did I decide to roam?
Gonna take a sentimental journey,
Sentimental journey home.
Gonna set my heart at ease.
Gonna take a sentimental journey
To renew old memories.
Got my bag; I got my reservation.
Spent each dime I could afford.
Like a child in wild anticipation,
I long to hear that "All aboard!"
Seven: That's the time we leave, at seven.
I'll be waiting up for heaven.
Counting every mile of railroad track
That takes me back.
Never thought my heart could be so yearny.
Why did I decide to roam?
Gonna take a sentimental journey,
Sentimental journey home.
1/6/20
One of my hospice patients eats his lunch as I sing and play music for him. "Lumpy" always answers my questions, but he doesn't talk much, and he is usually more concerned with his lunch and his nap than he is with me. He is often confused, and he asks me if I'm his mom. Or he points to a male visitor and says that's his dad. Lumpy rarely makes eye contact. Occasionally in the middle of a song he will bang his empty cup on the table and demand more juice. Often Lumpy asks if he can go to bed now.
Today I tried to engage Lumpy in conversation in between songs on the ukulele. I liked his new haircut. I remarked on the weather. I asked if he had a nice Christmas.
"Yap. Santa was good to me." Wow. That's the longest string of words I've ever heard him put together.
I told Lumpy about my Christmas and went on to sing "Edelweiss". In the middle of the song, he looked me right in the eye, put down his fork, and began applauding wildly. Huh... this was new. I asked, "Lumpy, did you know that song?"
"I heard it before," he answered.
I started in singing "Ain't She Sweet", and Lumpy was a new man. He sang along and played air guitar. His broad smile lit up the room. We finished, and I asked how he knew that song. He pointed to a stocking-footed patient that was standing out in the hallway. "That's my dad. He taught it to me. And you. And my mommy."
He went back to eating as I tried to engage him further. I sang a few more songs, but he was otherwise occupied with his meal. He did, however, offer me some of his lunch and his "yummy water". I declined.
When it was time for me to go, Lumpy looked at me and said, "Oh, no!" He truly looked sad that I was leaving. I sang "Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Goodbye" and promised I would be back next week with my banjo. "Yea!" was his reply.
I hope we can repeat the camaraderie of this visit in the weeks to come!
One of my hospice patients eats his lunch as I sing and play music for him. "Lumpy" always answers my questions, but he doesn't talk much, and he is usually more concerned with his lunch and his nap than he is with me. He is often confused, and he asks me if I'm his mom. Or he points to a male visitor and says that's his dad. Lumpy rarely makes eye contact. Occasionally in the middle of a song he will bang his empty cup on the table and demand more juice. Often Lumpy asks if he can go to bed now.
Today I tried to engage Lumpy in conversation in between songs on the ukulele. I liked his new haircut. I remarked on the weather. I asked if he had a nice Christmas.
"Yap. Santa was good to me." Wow. That's the longest string of words I've ever heard him put together.
I told Lumpy about my Christmas and went on to sing "Edelweiss". In the middle of the song, he looked me right in the eye, put down his fork, and began applauding wildly. Huh... this was new. I asked, "Lumpy, did you know that song?"
"I heard it before," he answered.
I started in singing "Ain't She Sweet", and Lumpy was a new man. He sang along and played air guitar. His broad smile lit up the room. We finished, and I asked how he knew that song. He pointed to a stocking-footed patient that was standing out in the hallway. "That's my dad. He taught it to me. And you. And my mommy."
He went back to eating as I tried to engage him further. I sang a few more songs, but he was otherwise occupied with his meal. He did, however, offer me some of his lunch and his "yummy water". I declined.
When it was time for me to go, Lumpy looked at me and said, "Oh, no!" He truly looked sad that I was leaving. I sang "Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Goodbye" and promised I would be back next week with my banjo. "Yea!" was his reply.
I hope we can repeat the camaraderie of this visit in the weeks to come!
1/1/20
On this New Years Day I sang at the hospital. I made my rounds to all the patient rooms, and I took my time. It seemed like everyone wanted to talk about my banjo or the music or their hospital stay. Maybe the quiet hospital on a holiday makes people chatty.
Even the emergency room was relatively serene compared to the usual hubbub of a normal day. After singing to several patients in their cubicles, I came upon an older gentleman in obvious pain. His two sons were with him, and they translated for me. Would the patient like a little song? Usually patients in distress wave me off, but this man wanted a song. I sang a slow and soft "'Deed I Am in Love with You".
One of the sons asked if he could record me singing something motivational for his dad, "for later". I sang a rousing "Hop High, Lulu Gal" for the recording and then this young man became emotional. He said that sometimes he sings the old time Hindi songs and something speaks to his soul. His brother agreed that music is that thing within us that we all have in common, and it unites us.
In 2020 I want to be more mindful of those around me. Sometimes I just "make the rounds". People have much to share, and I want to make meaningful connections wherever I go. These two young men were good sons to their father. They understood that music can be healing and motivational and moving. That's something I get, too, and it brought two cultures together in a tiny hospital room.
God, in 2020, help me make more meaningful connections with Your people.
On this New Years Day I sang at the hospital. I made my rounds to all the patient rooms, and I took my time. It seemed like everyone wanted to talk about my banjo or the music or their hospital stay. Maybe the quiet hospital on a holiday makes people chatty.
Even the emergency room was relatively serene compared to the usual hubbub of a normal day. After singing to several patients in their cubicles, I came upon an older gentleman in obvious pain. His two sons were with him, and they translated for me. Would the patient like a little song? Usually patients in distress wave me off, but this man wanted a song. I sang a slow and soft "'Deed I Am in Love with You".
One of the sons asked if he could record me singing something motivational for his dad, "for later". I sang a rousing "Hop High, Lulu Gal" for the recording and then this young man became emotional. He said that sometimes he sings the old time Hindi songs and something speaks to his soul. His brother agreed that music is that thing within us that we all have in common, and it unites us.
In 2020 I want to be more mindful of those around me. Sometimes I just "make the rounds". People have much to share, and I want to make meaningful connections wherever I go. These two young men were good sons to their father. They understood that music can be healing and motivational and moving. That's something I get, too, and it brought two cultures together in a tiny hospital room.
God, in 2020, help me make more meaningful connections with Your people.
12/7/19
Herb and I like what The Salvation Army does in communities. Here in Cincinnati, The Salvation Army sponsors a human trafficking helpline. Their drug and alcohol rehab centers offer therapy for the addicted. They also provide assistance to struggling families and individuals, not just at Christmas time, but all year round.
This morning we had the privilege to be Salvation Army bell ringers. Well, Herb rang the bell and I played the autoharp and sang Christmas carols. We elicited smiles from kids and adults alike. We collected small amounts of cash as patrons took time out of their shopping to donate to the red bucket. We froze, but we didn't care.
Music is a connection that is easy to make. Music is universal. A few folks sang along as they contributed, and one lovely lady stood in the cold and sang four or five carols with us. Thank you, God, for people and organizations who give to mankind.
Herb and I like what The Salvation Army does in communities. Here in Cincinnati, The Salvation Army sponsors a human trafficking helpline. Their drug and alcohol rehab centers offer therapy for the addicted. They also provide assistance to struggling families and individuals, not just at Christmas time, but all year round.
This morning we had the privilege to be Salvation Army bell ringers. Well, Herb rang the bell and I played the autoharp and sang Christmas carols. We elicited smiles from kids and adults alike. We collected small amounts of cash as patrons took time out of their shopping to donate to the red bucket. We froze, but we didn't care.
Music is a connection that is easy to make. Music is universal. A few folks sang along as they contributed, and one lovely lady stood in the cold and sang four or five carols with us. Thank you, God, for people and organizations who give to mankind.
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12/5/19
Over the last few weeks I've gotten to know a delightful new couple at the Otterbein nursing facility. He is a little hard of hearing. She is a happy and energetic ball of fire. They both love music. She dances in her chair as she sings along with old favorites. He watches my hands carefully as I play my instruments. Today I arrived with the autoharp, my instrument of choice for Christmas carols. I began to sing "Angels We Have Heard on High" for the folks who were getting ready to eat when this lovely couple arrived at the lunch table. They smiled when they saw me, and he took a harmonica out of his shirt pocket and quietly tried to find a way to play along. I excitedly asked him what key his harmonica was in. G. My new friend was quite accomplished on the harmonica, and we played and sang every carol in the key of G. All the folks sang along, and we had the best time. He just beamed. December's Christmas carols are not going to get old if we can keep this up! I already can't wait to play with him next week. |
11/19/19
Today I sang "Edelweiss" at the nursing home over lunch. A lovely lady sang every single word along with me. In German. I sang in English. I asked her how many languages she knows.
"English, French, German, Italian..."
Where did she grow up? Egypt, born and raised. She married a German man who moved them to many parts of the world for his job. She is a marvel to me!
Today I sang "Edelweiss" at the nursing home over lunch. A lovely lady sang every single word along with me. In German. I sang in English. I asked her how many languages she knows.
"English, French, German, Italian..."
Where did she grow up? Egypt, born and raised. She married a German man who moved them to many parts of the world for his job. She is a marvel to me!
11/12/19
The Wanderer has been my hospice patient for almost three years. This is unusual, as a hospice patient usually has 6 months or less to live. The Wanderer speaks in complete sentences and uses real words and made-up words, and she rarely makes any sense. Many of my posts have been conversations I've had with her because she is highly entertaining. Lately she has been more lethargic and not as chatty, but today she was her old gabby and bossy self, and I took the time to record some of our little visit.
The Wanderer's advice for today:
"All the dun-guhs would be oldern fore, and it's not in dat that hundy. So if we can wurr and we can see, we can probably that maybe should be A for ah oh that. Okay? I love you pete all paze its because I know!"
The Wanderer has been my hospice patient for almost three years. This is unusual, as a hospice patient usually has 6 months or less to live. The Wanderer speaks in complete sentences and uses real words and made-up words, and she rarely makes any sense. Many of my posts have been conversations I've had with her because she is highly entertaining. Lately she has been more lethargic and not as chatty, but today she was her old gabby and bossy self, and I took the time to record some of our little visit.
The Wanderer's advice for today:
"All the dun-guhs would be oldern fore, and it's not in dat that hundy. So if we can wurr and we can see, we can probably that maybe should be A for ah oh that. Okay? I love you pete all paze its because I know!"
10/20/19
After church today, Herb and I went out for Chinese food at a local restaurant. Before we left, I visited the restroom. Two junior high girls were in there line dancing (you know, like Boot Scootin' Boogie) to the Chinese music that was playing overhead. I laughed and said, "That's great!"
I did my business, and as I was leaving, one of them said, "Sorry!"
I said, "I think there should be more dancing in this world!"
After church today, Herb and I went out for Chinese food at a local restaurant. Before we left, I visited the restroom. Two junior high girls were in there line dancing (you know, like Boot Scootin' Boogie) to the Chinese music that was playing overhead. I laughed and said, "That's great!"
I did my business, and as I was leaving, one of them said, "Sorry!"
I said, "I think there should be more dancing in this world!"
10/8/19
Today Jane H was on her soapbox. We sang some songs, and suddenly she exclaimed, "I cain't stand it when they have songs with bad words. I never knew they were allowed to record such things until I heard my nieces and nephews listening to such awful music! I told them, 'You don't bring that filth into my house. If you do, I'll break up your records, throw 'em in the trash can, and light 'em on fire! That's what a trash can is for - it's for trash.' "
I agreed with her heartily, and then I tried to lighten things up by singing fun songs. After "Dream a Little Dream of Me", she started right in again. "I cain't stand it when they have songs with bad words..."
Today Jane H was on her soapbox. We sang some songs, and suddenly she exclaimed, "I cain't stand it when they have songs with bad words. I never knew they were allowed to record such things until I heard my nieces and nephews listening to such awful music! I told them, 'You don't bring that filth into my house. If you do, I'll break up your records, throw 'em in the trash can, and light 'em on fire! That's what a trash can is for - it's for trash.' "
I agreed with her heartily, and then I tried to lighten things up by singing fun songs. After "Dream a Little Dream of Me", she started right in again. "I cain't stand it when they have songs with bad words..."
10/7/19
When Herb is out of town, I sometimes drive through MacDonald's for a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. Today I placed my order at the drive through and immediately began to rummage through my change to find the correct amount. As I sifted through a handful of coins, I found a treasure.
This gold dollar was given to me years ago by a friend at Roselawn Manor, a nursing home in Spencerville, Ohio. I used to play music there once a week over lunch, and this particular resident always asked me questions about my instruments and the songs I sang.
One day I finished up my singing, and she beckoned me to her table. She placed this gold coin in my palm and said it was my tip for entertaining. I told her that I was a volunteer, and I couldn't accept it, but she insisted. I have treasured it ever since, and today I was reminded of the kindness of many folks I have encountered through the years.
When Herb is out of town, I sometimes drive through MacDonald's for a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. Today I placed my order at the drive through and immediately began to rummage through my change to find the correct amount. As I sifted through a handful of coins, I found a treasure.
This gold dollar was given to me years ago by a friend at Roselawn Manor, a nursing home in Spencerville, Ohio. I used to play music there once a week over lunch, and this particular resident always asked me questions about my instruments and the songs I sang.
One day I finished up my singing, and she beckoned me to her table. She placed this gold coin in my palm and said it was my tip for entertaining. I told her that I was a volunteer, and I couldn't accept it, but she insisted. I have treasured it ever since, and today I was reminded of the kindness of many folks I have encountered through the years.
9/10/19
Jane H was weepy and sad today. She doesn't know why God has kept her here on earth so long. Wailing loudly, she tells about her deceased mother coming to her at night. Jane H has been talking to her mother, God, and Satan. She says, "Satan, you cain't have me!"
We sang "I'll Fly Away" and "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder". These songs got Jane H talking about The Spirit coming upon her sometimes when she sings at church, and she wonders aloud if she is going crazy. I assure her that she isn't crazy; she is just getting close to God Almighty in these precious moments. I have a feeling she will be in the presence of God Himself soon enough.
Jane H was weepy and sad today. She doesn't know why God has kept her here on earth so long. Wailing loudly, she tells about her deceased mother coming to her at night. Jane H has been talking to her mother, God, and Satan. She says, "Satan, you cain't have me!"
We sang "I'll Fly Away" and "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder". These songs got Jane H talking about The Spirit coming upon her sometimes when she sings at church, and she wonders aloud if she is going crazy. I assure her that she isn't crazy; she is just getting close to God Almighty in these precious moments. I have a feeling she will be in the presence of God Himself soon enough.
9/3/19
The Wanderer's love language is touch. She loves to hold my hand, stroke my arm, and check out the texture of my clothing. Today's conversation was typical.
The Wanderer: What color is it like?
Me: What color? I like yellow. Do you like yellow? And I like blue. I like a bright blue color. That's my favorite.
The Wanderer motions for me to come close. I'm thinking she wants to give me a hug or touch my hair, but The Wanderer grabs my earring.
Me: Awww, you like to - Oh! my earring! Here...
I take out my earring and hand it to her. The earring is an ornate metal circle.
The Wanderer: Look at this!
Me: Yeah! Look at that!
The Wanderer: But I finally got to coggo, okay? I don't think that thass is a letto.
Me: Do you like that earring?
The Wanderer: No. They're all the same. But I don't want their rining on the paintum, so that's, you know. It's a lot of stuff.
Me: It IS a lot of stuff..
The Wanderer: Do you have to have to turng?
Me: Let me take that earring.
I confiscate the earring quickly. The Wanderer grabs my hand.
The Wanderer: I'm sorry my joor. I'm sorry because I can't write. I make I don't think. I less in a couple kadayday. I don't know; I think they're all ay-ing.
Me: I think they are, too. We have fun together, don't we?
The Wanderer (laughs): I do, too!
The Wanderer's love language is touch. She loves to hold my hand, stroke my arm, and check out the texture of my clothing. Today's conversation was typical.
The Wanderer: What color is it like?
Me: What color? I like yellow. Do you like yellow? And I like blue. I like a bright blue color. That's my favorite.
The Wanderer motions for me to come close. I'm thinking she wants to give me a hug or touch my hair, but The Wanderer grabs my earring.
Me: Awww, you like to - Oh! my earring! Here...
I take out my earring and hand it to her. The earring is an ornate metal circle.
The Wanderer: Look at this!
Me: Yeah! Look at that!
The Wanderer: But I finally got to coggo, okay? I don't think that thass is a letto.
Me: Do you like that earring?
The Wanderer: No. They're all the same. But I don't want their rining on the paintum, so that's, you know. It's a lot of stuff.
Me: It IS a lot of stuff..
The Wanderer: Do you have to have to turng?
Me: Let me take that earring.
I confiscate the earring quickly. The Wanderer grabs my hand.
The Wanderer: I'm sorry my joor. I'm sorry because I can't write. I make I don't think. I less in a couple kadayday. I don't know; I think they're all ay-ing.
Me: I think they are, too. We have fun together, don't we?
The Wanderer (laughs): I do, too!
9/3/19
There's a new patient in the memory care unit singalong. I'm calling her Lady because she was made up and dressed crisply. Lady LOVES to sing! Today she wheeled herself right up to me, and our noses could have held a yardstick between them, we were so close. The group and I were singing "You Are My Sunshine", and Lady very loudly and enthusiastically began crooning along. Only she was singing "For Me and My Gal"! Then we started singing "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain". With a big smile on her face, Lady clapped her hands together and began to sing "The Sidewalks of New York". Every song I led brought a new and different song from her. Lady thanked me for coming; she was "SO glad" I came today. I'm glad I made her day.
As I was packing up my banjo, I asked the aide if her issue was her hearing or her dementia. It's both. Lord, give me strength.
There's a new patient in the memory care unit singalong. I'm calling her Lady because she was made up and dressed crisply. Lady LOVES to sing! Today she wheeled herself right up to me, and our noses could have held a yardstick between them, we were so close. The group and I were singing "You Are My Sunshine", and Lady very loudly and enthusiastically began crooning along. Only she was singing "For Me and My Gal"! Then we started singing "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain". With a big smile on her face, Lady clapped her hands together and began to sing "The Sidewalks of New York". Every song I led brought a new and different song from her. Lady thanked me for coming; she was "SO glad" I came today. I'm glad I made her day.
As I was packing up my banjo, I asked the aide if her issue was her hearing or her dementia. It's both. Lord, give me strength.
8/20/19
Jane H (inspecting my autoharp): Did you make that?
Me: My husband built it.
Jane H: Oh, really? How much does he charge?
Me: Oh, he only builds my instruments for me.
Jane H: Well, you tell your husband I'm mad at him. He needs to make his other wife one. His black fat wife! Heehee!
Jane H (inspecting my autoharp): Did you make that?
Me: My husband built it.
Jane H: Oh, really? How much does he charge?
Me: Oh, he only builds my instruments for me.
Jane H: Well, you tell your husband I'm mad at him. He needs to make his other wife one. His black fat wife! Heehee!
8/14/19
My banjo and I barely got in the door at the hospital today when a nurse manager approached me. She told me she had cranky babies in the nursery. Would I come play soft music to calm them?
I would LOVE to play for the babies! But I've never been allowed on the unit, and I understand why: SECURITY. Also, the birth of a baby is a happy occasion. It never bothered me to skip the labor and delivery/nursery area. I can go make other people in the hospital happy. The nurse assured me that I could spread joy to new families, too. Let's give it a try. Why not?
The nurse met me up on the floor and buzzed me in. First we stopped in the waiting area to sing "Happy Birthday" to the extended family members waiting for good news. Then I went to the nursery. I was privileged to sing for these tiny souls, a dad, and the nurses. The nurses thanked me for coming, and they invited me to come back every Wednesday. I'm so glad I get to share my talents with these sweet little ones!
My banjo and I barely got in the door at the hospital today when a nurse manager approached me. She told me she had cranky babies in the nursery. Would I come play soft music to calm them?
I would LOVE to play for the babies! But I've never been allowed on the unit, and I understand why: SECURITY. Also, the birth of a baby is a happy occasion. It never bothered me to skip the labor and delivery/nursery area. I can go make other people in the hospital happy. The nurse assured me that I could spread joy to new families, too. Let's give it a try. Why not?
The nurse met me up on the floor and buzzed me in. First we stopped in the waiting area to sing "Happy Birthday" to the extended family members waiting for good news. Then I went to the nursery. I was privileged to sing for these tiny souls, a dad, and the nurses. The nurses thanked me for coming, and they invited me to come back every Wednesday. I'm so glad I get to share my talents with these sweet little ones!
8/13/19
Leading a singalong in a memory care unit is fulfilling and entertaining.
About every third song, one resident looks around for a flag, stands up with her hand over her heart, and proclaims. "Let's sing 'God Bless America'!"
Another resident keeps breaking out into "Will the Circle Be Unbroken".
A third gal stands up to dance, only to forget why she's standing, and walks over to me, embarrassed but smiling, and we dance back to her seat.
Most of the folks can tell me their names when we go around the circle, but many of them take a few seconds to think while some need a little help.
The great thing is that I can sing the same songs, tell the same jokes, and repeat the same stories from week to week, and they don't mind because it's likely they don't remember that I was even there last week!
Leading a singalong in a memory care unit is fulfilling and entertaining.
About every third song, one resident looks around for a flag, stands up with her hand over her heart, and proclaims. "Let's sing 'God Bless America'!"
Another resident keeps breaking out into "Will the Circle Be Unbroken".
A third gal stands up to dance, only to forget why she's standing, and walks over to me, embarrassed but smiling, and we dance back to her seat.
Most of the folks can tell me their names when we go around the circle, but many of them take a few seconds to think while some need a little help.
The great thing is that I can sing the same songs, tell the same jokes, and repeat the same stories from week to week, and they don't mind because it's likely they don't remember that I was even there last week!
7/23/19
Jane H exclaimed, "Wish I knowed you was comin'; I'd-a made you some coffee. You might not a-liked it 'cause I don't know how to make coffee, but I'd-a made you some!"
Jane H exclaimed, "Wish I knowed you was comin'; I'd-a made you some coffee. You might not a-liked it 'cause I don't know how to make coffee, but I'd-a made you some!"
7/13/19
The Hat Lady is now wearing her heavenly crown.
The Hat Lady is now wearing her heavenly crown.
7/10/19
Today I knocked at a hospital patient's room. He was sitting up with his feet over the side of the bed, and he was talking to his nurse. I asked if I could sing him a song, and he and the nurse assented. On the second verse of "Sea Cruise", the nurse grabbed both the patient's hands, and he stood up and danced with her. Smiles all around!
Today I knocked at a hospital patient's room. He was sitting up with his feet over the side of the bed, and he was talking to his nurse. I asked if I could sing him a song, and he and the nurse assented. On the second verse of "Sea Cruise", the nurse grabbed both the patient's hands, and he stood up and danced with her. Smiles all around!
6/18/19
Jane H (see 3/19/19) was in a good mood today. She sang along on a few of the songs, and she told stories of her childhood. All of a sudden, she clapped her hand to her mouth and exclaimed, "I been so busy, I forgot my TEEF!"
Never mind that I've never seen her with her teeth!
Jane H (see 3/19/19) was in a good mood today. She sang along on a few of the songs, and she told stories of her childhood. All of a sudden, she clapped her hand to her mouth and exclaimed, "I been so busy, I forgot my TEEF!"
Never mind that I've never seen her with her teeth!
6/6/19
The Hat Lady [sings]: Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like YOUUUUUU...
I may have laughed a little too hard at The Hat Lady today. After all, I AM a wretch that needs saving!
The Hat Lady [sings]: Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like YOUUUUUU...
I may have laughed a little too hard at The Hat Lady today. After all, I AM a wretch that needs saving!
5/29/19
A hospital patient's wife approached me during my weekly rounds today. She was in a state, distraught because her husband was dying. The loved ones were trying to comfort her while they were all grieving themselves. She asked me if I could go down to the patient's room and sing Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah". She wouldn't go down to his room with me because she was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep it together in front of him.
I went, but medical professionals were crowding the room. I reported back to the patient's wife that I attempted seeing him, but I didn't want to interrupt his medical care. She asked me if I could come back later.
I finished my singing rounds and found the family in the waiting room. I asked if the family would like to go with me to his room and sing for him. One young lady said, "Since we're not having a funeral for him, this could be his service." Oh, my.
We solemnly gathered in his room and sang for him. He was unconscious, but we spoke to him. We sang "Hallelujah", "Amazing Grace", "I'll Fly Away", and "When the Roll is Called up Yonder". I prayed that God would usher the patient into heaven peacefully, and I prayed for peace for the family. His wife gave him permission to let go of this earth. We sang "Jesus Loves Me", and I slipped away as the family continued to hold each other.
Who says a church service has to be in a church? God was present in this crowded little hospital room, and I believe He orchestrated this little gathering. All of us were blessed.
A hospital patient's wife approached me during my weekly rounds today. She was in a state, distraught because her husband was dying. The loved ones were trying to comfort her while they were all grieving themselves. She asked me if I could go down to the patient's room and sing Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah". She wouldn't go down to his room with me because she was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep it together in front of him.
I went, but medical professionals were crowding the room. I reported back to the patient's wife that I attempted seeing him, but I didn't want to interrupt his medical care. She asked me if I could come back later.
I finished my singing rounds and found the family in the waiting room. I asked if the family would like to go with me to his room and sing for him. One young lady said, "Since we're not having a funeral for him, this could be his service." Oh, my.
We solemnly gathered in his room and sang for him. He was unconscious, but we spoke to him. We sang "Hallelujah", "Amazing Grace", "I'll Fly Away", and "When the Roll is Called up Yonder". I prayed that God would usher the patient into heaven peacefully, and I prayed for peace for the family. His wife gave him permission to let go of this earth. We sang "Jesus Loves Me", and I slipped away as the family continued to hold each other.
Who says a church service has to be in a church? God was present in this crowded little hospital room, and I believe He orchestrated this little gathering. All of us were blessed.
5/21/19
Every week I lead a singalong in the memory care unit of a local nursing home. At some point I will say my name, and then we go around the room. Each resident says his or her name, and I've gotten to know them. Now I can call each one by name when we talk about their favorite songs. Of course, it's not hard to get to know their names when there are five Bobs in the room. Bob tells me that there are actually eight Bobs living in the memory care unit.
Fifty years from now I suppose all the little old women will be named Ashley!
Every week I lead a singalong in the memory care unit of a local nursing home. At some point I will say my name, and then we go around the room. Each resident says his or her name, and I've gotten to know them. Now I can call each one by name when we talk about their favorite songs. Of course, it's not hard to get to know their names when there are five Bobs in the room. Bob tells me that there are actually eight Bobs living in the memory care unit.
Fifty years from now I suppose all the little old women will be named Ashley!
5/1/19
Today I strolled the hospital with my banjo. I stopped at a gentleman's door and asked if I could sing him a song. His eyes lit up, and he said, "Of course!"
"We should do a fun song. How about Railroad Bill? He never worked; he never will."
The patient pointed to himself and said, "How about Railroad Chuck?"
Conspiratorily, I leaned in and answered, "I don't know many nice words that rhyme with Chuck." He agreed that we'd better stick with Railroad Bill! We laughed and laughed. That's good medicine, right there!
Today I strolled the hospital with my banjo. I stopped at a gentleman's door and asked if I could sing him a song. His eyes lit up, and he said, "Of course!"
"We should do a fun song. How about Railroad Bill? He never worked; he never will."
The patient pointed to himself and said, "How about Railroad Chuck?"
Conspiratorily, I leaned in and answered, "I don't know many nice words that rhyme with Chuck." He agreed that we'd better stick with Railroad Bill! We laughed and laughed. That's good medicine, right there!
4/30/19
The Wanderer has been my hospice patient for well over two years, and she continues to entertain me. She is now in a Geri chair, and lately she has been quieter and more lethargic. But today she was a new woman. The Wanderer was her old chatty self. She kept trying to escape her chair while I tried to distract her. She was having none of it.
Me: Hey, you are going to get in trouble!
The Wanderer: I know. It's stupid!
The Wanderer, like many others up on this dementia unit, sometimes hallucinates. She sees faces and other things in the patterns in the carpet. She is very tactile, wanting to touch and feel every texture (my gauzy shirt, my skin, my banjo case). I finally figured out that she was trying to get out of her chair to touch what she was seeing on the floor.
Note to nursing facilities everywhere: Carpet like this doesn't help a dementia patient!
4/20/19
When Grandma Now was in her 80's, she asked me if I would sing "Suppertime" at her funeral. Mom found a book with the song in it and gave it to me. I learned the song on the piano, and I practiced singing along as I played. Through the years, every time Herb built me a new instrument, I learned "Suppertime" anew. I memorized the chords and lyrics on several instruments. With each new rendition, I was sure that Grandma wouldn't live to see another year. My mom and aunts kept reminding me that I had to be ready to sing the song sometime soon. Well, Grandma lived to be 107 years old, and I finally sang "Suppertime" with my banjo at her funeral in 2007.
Today was the memorial service for Herb's brother Bob. After he passed away, the family found notes and lists. He always carried a note pad so that he could write down his thoughts and questions, draw up the plans in his head, and jot down dates and other important things to remember.
The pages handed to me listed songs that he thought might be appropriate at his funeral. I could tell that he added to this list over time, and he was thoughtful in his choices. The pastor helped the family choose three of the songs for congregational singing at the memorial service. I was asked to play and sing any other songs on various instruments before the service. Many of my own favorites were on Bob's list.
Imagine my joy when I discovered this song title written in the margin: "Come Home, It's Suppertime".
Bob has been called home to that great banquet table in heaven, and we will miss him here on earth. Bob's life was a tribute to his Lord and Savior, and the memorial service reflected Bob's devotion by using scripture, stories, and music. Today I gladly sang, "The banquet table's ready up in heaven. It's suppertime upon that golden shore."
Music can bring us home. Music declares our beliefs. The music we choose shows others what we are made of, and today music unites us as we honor those who go before us.
When Grandma Now was in her 80's, she asked me if I would sing "Suppertime" at her funeral. Mom found a book with the song in it and gave it to me. I learned the song on the piano, and I practiced singing along as I played. Through the years, every time Herb built me a new instrument, I learned "Suppertime" anew. I memorized the chords and lyrics on several instruments. With each new rendition, I was sure that Grandma wouldn't live to see another year. My mom and aunts kept reminding me that I had to be ready to sing the song sometime soon. Well, Grandma lived to be 107 years old, and I finally sang "Suppertime" with my banjo at her funeral in 2007.
Today was the memorial service for Herb's brother Bob. After he passed away, the family found notes and lists. He always carried a note pad so that he could write down his thoughts and questions, draw up the plans in his head, and jot down dates and other important things to remember.
The pages handed to me listed songs that he thought might be appropriate at his funeral. I could tell that he added to this list over time, and he was thoughtful in his choices. The pastor helped the family choose three of the songs for congregational singing at the memorial service. I was asked to play and sing any other songs on various instruments before the service. Many of my own favorites were on Bob's list.
Imagine my joy when I discovered this song title written in the margin: "Come Home, It's Suppertime".
Bob has been called home to that great banquet table in heaven, and we will miss him here on earth. Bob's life was a tribute to his Lord and Savior, and the memorial service reflected Bob's devotion by using scripture, stories, and music. Today I gladly sang, "The banquet table's ready up in heaven. It's suppertime upon that golden shore."
Music can bring us home. Music declares our beliefs. The music we choose shows others what we are made of, and today music unites us as we honor those who go before us.
3/27/19
A few weeks ago I visited with a hospice patient in her daughter's home. I played and sang with my mountain dulcimer, and this precious 97-year-old woman and I had a lovely conversation about church and giving and tradition. "My favorite song is 'In the Garden'," she confided. It's one of my favorites, too.
Now, I don't play this old hymn on the dulcimer; so I put it down, scooted up my chair, and held her arthritic hand gently and began to sing. We sang together until her eyes opened wide and she said, "Stop! STOP!"
Stop? What's wrong? "I feel like He's coming to get me right NOW, and I'm not ready!"
It's not that she wasn't "ready". She just hadn't said goodbye to her loved ones yet. But this beloved soul was clearly upset. During our subsequent visits, I tried to keep things light. She laughed and had much to share.
Well, she must have made the rounds with her loved ones. I received word that she passed early this morning with her caretaker daughter by her side. Rest In Peace, Beloved. As the song promises, I know you are walking with your Savior in the garden.
A few weeks ago I visited with a hospice patient in her daughter's home. I played and sang with my mountain dulcimer, and this precious 97-year-old woman and I had a lovely conversation about church and giving and tradition. "My favorite song is 'In the Garden'," she confided. It's one of my favorites, too.
Now, I don't play this old hymn on the dulcimer; so I put it down, scooted up my chair, and held her arthritic hand gently and began to sing. We sang together until her eyes opened wide and she said, "Stop! STOP!"
Stop? What's wrong? "I feel like He's coming to get me right NOW, and I'm not ready!"
It's not that she wasn't "ready". She just hadn't said goodbye to her loved ones yet. But this beloved soul was clearly upset. During our subsequent visits, I tried to keep things light. She laughed and had much to share.
Well, she must have made the rounds with her loved ones. I received word that she passed early this morning with her caretaker daughter by her side. Rest In Peace, Beloved. As the song promises, I know you are walking with your Savior in the garden.
I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am HIs own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am HIs own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.
3/19/19
"Jane H," the young woman at the front desk of the nursing home confided in a hushed voice, "is a Jekyll and Hyde." And so she is. Jane H is a hospice patient, and every time I see her she is a different person.
During one of our visits she sang along with me, and each song triggered a good memory for her to share. "I was a GOOOOOD cook! We used to go on picnics. I made homemade sides, chicken, ribs, EVERYTHING!"
Another day, Jane H was weepy. The music would not console her as she wailed about how she wanted to go home to see her mother, "and she's sickly, too!"
Jane H was drawn in by the banjo. She was curious about what I was up to. But when I started to play and sing, she gave me a disgusted look and said, "You can have it!" She promptly rolled away in her wheelchair as fast as she could go.
This past week we sat by her window on a sunny day. She was chatty, and she told me the same story over and over:
"I love to sit and look out my window. I watch the birds and the people. I just love birds. I used to raise them in cages in my house. When it gets late I go to bed. I lock my door, and if you knock on my door after a certain time at night, I will open the door and hit you on the head with a hammer right between the eyes. Or I might shoot you. I have a gun; it's a 25 and I keep it under my pillow at night." [small pause] "I love to sit and look out my window..."
I can't wait to see who she is next week!
"Jane H," the young woman at the front desk of the nursing home confided in a hushed voice, "is a Jekyll and Hyde." And so she is. Jane H is a hospice patient, and every time I see her she is a different person.
During one of our visits she sang along with me, and each song triggered a good memory for her to share. "I was a GOOOOOD cook! We used to go on picnics. I made homemade sides, chicken, ribs, EVERYTHING!"
Another day, Jane H was weepy. The music would not console her as she wailed about how she wanted to go home to see her mother, "and she's sickly, too!"
Jane H was drawn in by the banjo. She was curious about what I was up to. But when I started to play and sing, she gave me a disgusted look and said, "You can have it!" She promptly rolled away in her wheelchair as fast as she could go.
This past week we sat by her window on a sunny day. She was chatty, and she told me the same story over and over:
"I love to sit and look out my window. I watch the birds and the people. I just love birds. I used to raise them in cages in my house. When it gets late I go to bed. I lock my door, and if you knock on my door after a certain time at night, I will open the door and hit you on the head with a hammer right between the eyes. Or I might shoot you. I have a gun; it's a 25 and I keep it under my pillow at night." [small pause] "I love to sit and look out my window..."
I can't wait to see who she is next week!
3/13/19
Meet my friend Daphne. I want to be her when I grow up. She is 83 years old and has a giving heart. Whenever I see Daphne, her lovely eyes are twinkling, and she always has a smile. If you listen closely, you will notice a slight British accent when she speaks.
Daphne is a widow that has health issues, but every week she talks about her many blessings. She is a volunteer here in registration at the hospital, and I look forward to seeing her every week. She told me today that her goal is to get at least one smile out of every patient she sees during the day.
Daphne always tells her friends that they need to get out and volunteer and not stay home and feel sorry for themselves. Everyone needs to give back in this life, and everyone can, whether it's as a volunteer coach, as a room mother at school, or just as someone who loves on people with food or other gifts. Let Daphne be your inspiration!
Meet my friend Daphne. I want to be her when I grow up. She is 83 years old and has a giving heart. Whenever I see Daphne, her lovely eyes are twinkling, and she always has a smile. If you listen closely, you will notice a slight British accent when she speaks.
Daphne is a widow that has health issues, but every week she talks about her many blessings. She is a volunteer here in registration at the hospital, and I look forward to seeing her every week. She told me today that her goal is to get at least one smile out of every patient she sees during the day.
Daphne always tells her friends that they need to get out and volunteer and not stay home and feel sorry for themselves. Everyone needs to give back in this life, and everyone can, whether it's as a volunteer coach, as a room mother at school, or just as someone who loves on people with food or other gifts. Let Daphne be your inspiration!
2/21/19
The Hat Lady (see 1/3/19) was a gem today. Usually she will sing along on a half song or so, and then she will sit with her eyes closed. She won't be asleep, however. The Hat Lady will answer simple questions and nod and smile, letting me know she is paying attention.
Today she sang every word of "The Crawdad Song", "Skip to My Lou", "Little Liza Jane", and others. She thanked me for coming to see her. She didn't close her eyes once. The Hat Lady talked about what was happening around us, pointing out an elderly woman dancing, the custodian mopping the kitchen, and the aide putting away dishes. As I prepared to leave, The Hat Lady asked me to come back soon. I smiled and told her to "be good".
"Do I have to?"
Oh, honey. In the place you are here in this life, you can do anything you want. Truthfully, though, I don't think The Hat Lady could be anything but good.
The Hat Lady (see 1/3/19) was a gem today. Usually she will sing along on a half song or so, and then she will sit with her eyes closed. She won't be asleep, however. The Hat Lady will answer simple questions and nod and smile, letting me know she is paying attention.
Today she sang every word of "The Crawdad Song", "Skip to My Lou", "Little Liza Jane", and others. She thanked me for coming to see her. She didn't close her eyes once. The Hat Lady talked about what was happening around us, pointing out an elderly woman dancing, the custodian mopping the kitchen, and the aide putting away dishes. As I prepared to leave, The Hat Lady asked me to come back soon. I smiled and told her to "be good".
"Do I have to?"
Oh, honey. In the place you are here in this life, you can do anything you want. Truthfully, though, I don't think The Hat Lady could be anything but good.
2/15/19
The other day a hospice patient of mine listened intently as I sang with the autoharp. She is a musician herself, having played the piano since childhood, and she is a retired elementary music teacher. I finished singing "I'll Be All Smiles Tonight", and she shouted "1, 4, 5, 7!" Of course I knew right away what she meant. It's music speak for I, IV, V7, the three chords that make up most of the songs we know and love in western music. The Music Teacher doesn't say much; she is very slow and halting in forming her speech. This incident was a reminder to me that her mind is still sharp. We then had a deliberate conversation about music and her love of the piano. God, help me to remember that patients are not always as they seem.
The other day a hospice patient of mine listened intently as I sang with the autoharp. She is a musician herself, having played the piano since childhood, and she is a retired elementary music teacher. I finished singing "I'll Be All Smiles Tonight", and she shouted "1, 4, 5, 7!" Of course I knew right away what she meant. It's music speak for I, IV, V7, the three chords that make up most of the songs we know and love in western music. The Music Teacher doesn't say much; she is very slow and halting in forming her speech. This incident was a reminder to me that her mind is still sharp. We then had a deliberate conversation about music and her love of the piano. God, help me to remember that patients are not always as they seem.
2/10/19
The brain is fascinating. Because I see so many elderly folks in nursing homes and in hospice care, I have long been intrigued by Alzheimer's disease and dementia. (My mother, who died of a sudden event, also struggled with Alzheimer's.) Over the last several months I've read many books that address the subject of Alzheimer's disease. If you are a reader and are caring for someone with dementia, then I would suggest doing some research. These are my top five:
1. Still Alice by Lisa Genova. Written by a neurologist, Still Alice is informative as well as entertaining; sad but completely endearing. The book is written from Alice's point of view. Fiction.
2. The 36-Hour Day: A Family Guide to Caring for People with Alzheimer Disease, Other Dementias, and Memory Loss in Later Life by Nancy L. Mace and Peter V. Rabins. This complete reference guide speaks in a practical way to caregivers. It is helpful in all stages of the disease. Nonfiction.
3. Finding Grace in the Face of Dementia by John T. Dunlop. In this practical Christian guidebook. The author explains dementia and its various types. Scripture and prayers are included for both the caregiver and the afflicted. Nonfiction.
4. Learning to Speak Alzheimer's: A Groundbreaking Approach for Everyone Dealing with the Disease by Joanne Koenig Coste. Examples and anecdotes illustrate the bullet points of "habilitation", a way for caregivers to manage the Alzheimer's patient. Physical, spiritual, financial, and emotional concerns are all discussed in a succinct manner. Nonfiction.
5. Creating Moments of Joy for the Person with Alzheimer's or Dementia: A Journal for Caregivers by Jolene Brackey. With suggestions for all stages of the disease, this one is full of ideas for creating special moments for loved ones with Alzheimer's disease. Nonfiction.
If you are interested in my Top Five Music Books, scroll down to see my post on 6/3/2018.
The brain is fascinating. Because I see so many elderly folks in nursing homes and in hospice care, I have long been intrigued by Alzheimer's disease and dementia. (My mother, who died of a sudden event, also struggled with Alzheimer's.) Over the last several months I've read many books that address the subject of Alzheimer's disease. If you are a reader and are caring for someone with dementia, then I would suggest doing some research. These are my top five:
1. Still Alice by Lisa Genova. Written by a neurologist, Still Alice is informative as well as entertaining; sad but completely endearing. The book is written from Alice's point of view. Fiction.
2. The 36-Hour Day: A Family Guide to Caring for People with Alzheimer Disease, Other Dementias, and Memory Loss in Later Life by Nancy L. Mace and Peter V. Rabins. This complete reference guide speaks in a practical way to caregivers. It is helpful in all stages of the disease. Nonfiction.
3. Finding Grace in the Face of Dementia by John T. Dunlop. In this practical Christian guidebook. The author explains dementia and its various types. Scripture and prayers are included for both the caregiver and the afflicted. Nonfiction.
4. Learning to Speak Alzheimer's: A Groundbreaking Approach for Everyone Dealing with the Disease by Joanne Koenig Coste. Examples and anecdotes illustrate the bullet points of "habilitation", a way for caregivers to manage the Alzheimer's patient. Physical, spiritual, financial, and emotional concerns are all discussed in a succinct manner. Nonfiction.
5. Creating Moments of Joy for the Person with Alzheimer's or Dementia: A Journal for Caregivers by Jolene Brackey. With suggestions for all stages of the disease, this one is full of ideas for creating special moments for loved ones with Alzheimer's disease. Nonfiction.
If you are interested in my Top Five Music Books, scroll down to see my post on 6/3/2018.
1/30/19
At Mercy Fairfield Hospital today, armed with my ukulele and a bunch of songs, I made the rounds. I stopped outside each patient room, knocked and offered to sing a song. One room had a ruckus inside. There was a screamer in the bed and two nurses were in some sort of wrestling match with him. I buzzed by that room and went to the next. After singing for a couple more patients, I was approached by one of the nurses. She asked if I would go back and sing in The Screamer's room; his wife says he likes music. Okay...
What I witnessed was nothing short of a miracle. This man needed to calm down. He was still screaming, but I entered the room, put on a smile, and started to strum. I sang Joe Cocker's "You Are So Beautiful", and The Screamer stopped to listen. Everyone was moved. The nurse whispered, "It's working!" After I finished singing I started to go, and he started in again. I played and sang a very slow and soft "You Are My Sunshine" until he calmed again. The doctor and the nurses thanked me and I danced down the hallway. I didn't hear another peep from that room.
At Mercy Fairfield Hospital today, armed with my ukulele and a bunch of songs, I made the rounds. I stopped outside each patient room, knocked and offered to sing a song. One room had a ruckus inside. There was a screamer in the bed and two nurses were in some sort of wrestling match with him. I buzzed by that room and went to the next. After singing for a couple more patients, I was approached by one of the nurses. She asked if I would go back and sing in The Screamer's room; his wife says he likes music. Okay...
What I witnessed was nothing short of a miracle. This man needed to calm down. He was still screaming, but I entered the room, put on a smile, and started to strum. I sang Joe Cocker's "You Are So Beautiful", and The Screamer stopped to listen. Everyone was moved. The nurse whispered, "It's working!" After I finished singing I started to go, and he started in again. I played and sang a very slow and soft "You Are My Sunshine" until he calmed again. The doctor and the nurses thanked me and I danced down the hallway. I didn't hear another peep from that room.
1/3/19
I have a precious hospice patient who always wears a hat. I usually find The Hat Lady in the common room by the fireplace. She loves the music every week. Sometimes The Hat Lady sings, and sometimes she just closes her eyes and listens. Today after I sang "Fly Me to the Moon" with my ukulele, she opened her eyes wide, leaned forward in her wheelchair, reached both her arms toward me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "I hope you live forever." I don't know if it was meant as a blessing or a curse!
But seriously, The Hat Lady is a prime example of who I want to be when I grow old: a sweet-spirited person who makes everyone around feel loved, no matter my own circumstances.
I have a precious hospice patient who always wears a hat. I usually find The Hat Lady in the common room by the fireplace. She loves the music every week. Sometimes The Hat Lady sings, and sometimes she just closes her eyes and listens. Today after I sang "Fly Me to the Moon" with my ukulele, she opened her eyes wide, leaned forward in her wheelchair, reached both her arms toward me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "I hope you live forever." I don't know if it was meant as a blessing or a curse!
But seriously, The Hat Lady is a prime example of who I want to be when I grow old: a sweet-spirited person who makes everyone around feel loved, no matter my own circumstances.
12/18/18
Today I took my autoharp to the memory care unit to sing Christmas carols. After singing "Angels We Have Heard on High", one of the ladies said, "When I was young, I thought the words were 'Alka-Seltzer Deo'!" These folks always make me smile.
Today I took my autoharp to the memory care unit to sing Christmas carols. After singing "Angels We Have Heard on High", one of the ladies said, "When I was young, I thought the words were 'Alka-Seltzer Deo'!" These folks always make me smile.
11/27/18
There were 15-20 folks gathered around me today as I was leading a sing-along at Magnolia Springs Memory Care. I noticed that three of the ladies had fallen asleep in their chairs. I started in singing "Amazing Grace", and all three of them started singing along, eyes still closed and with no change in expression. They had me fooled!
There were 15-20 folks gathered around me today as I was leading a sing-along at Magnolia Springs Memory Care. I noticed that three of the ladies had fallen asleep in their chairs. I started in singing "Amazing Grace", and all three of them started singing along, eyes still closed and with no change in expression. They had me fooled!
11/14/18
I was a little worried about how today would go. It's been six weeks since my hip replacement, and I resumed my volunteer life this week. Monday and Tuesday were great. On those days I saw a couple of hospice patients and sang songs as I visited with them. I sat down for the most part with an instrument in my lap. I also sang at a couple of nursing homes - same deal.
Wednesday, however, is my day at the hospital with a lot of walking and stairs. I started the day with physical therapy, and I told my physical therapist that I was going to try it and see. If I got tired or if I started feeling pain or fatigue I could always go to the lobby and sit in a chair and sing for the waiting areas. When I arrived at the hospital, the volunteer coordinator and I discussed my plan, and she agreed that I shouldn't overdo it my first day back.
I needn't have worried. The joy of being back was enough to keep me going. I was greeted on every floor by staff and patients who needed a song, and I was too busy to think about my aches and pains. (Did I have any aches or pains? I don't know. If I did, I was having too much fun to notice.)
Smack in the middle of my time at the hospital I sang for a patient and two of her female visitors. ( I assume they were all family members because they had obviously sung with each other before.) We sang four-part harmony on Elvis's "I Can't Help Falling in Love", and then the patient requested a church song. We drew a crowd outside her room when we sang "I'll Fly Away". They said I made their day. They have no idea.
I was a little worried about how today would go. It's been six weeks since my hip replacement, and I resumed my volunteer life this week. Monday and Tuesday were great. On those days I saw a couple of hospice patients and sang songs as I visited with them. I sat down for the most part with an instrument in my lap. I also sang at a couple of nursing homes - same deal.
Wednesday, however, is my day at the hospital with a lot of walking and stairs. I started the day with physical therapy, and I told my physical therapist that I was going to try it and see. If I got tired or if I started feeling pain or fatigue I could always go to the lobby and sit in a chair and sing for the waiting areas. When I arrived at the hospital, the volunteer coordinator and I discussed my plan, and she agreed that I shouldn't overdo it my first day back.
I needn't have worried. The joy of being back was enough to keep me going. I was greeted on every floor by staff and patients who needed a song, and I was too busy to think about my aches and pains. (Did I have any aches or pains? I don't know. If I did, I was having too much fun to notice.)
Smack in the middle of my time at the hospital I sang for a patient and two of her female visitors. ( I assume they were all family members because they had obviously sung with each other before.) We sang four-part harmony on Elvis's "I Can't Help Falling in Love", and then the patient requested a church song. We drew a crowd outside her room when we sang "I'll Fly Away". They said I made their day. They have no idea.
10/30/18
Four weeks ago I had a total hip replacement, and I've been pondering how music fits into my own healing. My doctors say that with a hip replacement the body needs to heal for several weeks before physical therapy can begin. I have been house-bound for the most part, and I've accomplished a few things:
I've addressed all my Christmas cards.
With the help of visitors, I've completed jigsaw puzzles.
My Kenya scrapbook received some finishing touches.
Flat Stanley came from my cousin's son in North Carolina when I was at the pinnacle of boredom, and I threw myself into making sure Flat Stanley had a most excellent tour of Cincinnati, even if it was just from the car. Thank you, Cole Clegg!
I have read/listened to eleven books so far.
My goal was to learn three new songs on the ukulele during my recovery. I'm almost there. That's music, but is it therapy? I guess that in a broad sense all the above activities could be considered therapy because they kept my brain active as my body healed itself. They kept me from going crazy in my inactivity. I'll be interested to see what physical therapy looks like, and I will pair it with music because that's what makes me happy and that's what I do. The music may not make me heal faster or more completely, but the music will make the process more enjoyable, and for me that's enough.
Elton John said it best: "Music has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours."
Four weeks ago I had a total hip replacement, and I've been pondering how music fits into my own healing. My doctors say that with a hip replacement the body needs to heal for several weeks before physical therapy can begin. I have been house-bound for the most part, and I've accomplished a few things:
I've addressed all my Christmas cards.
With the help of visitors, I've completed jigsaw puzzles.
My Kenya scrapbook received some finishing touches.
Flat Stanley came from my cousin's son in North Carolina when I was at the pinnacle of boredom, and I threw myself into making sure Flat Stanley had a most excellent tour of Cincinnati, even if it was just from the car. Thank you, Cole Clegg!
I have read/listened to eleven books so far.
My goal was to learn three new songs on the ukulele during my recovery. I'm almost there. That's music, but is it therapy? I guess that in a broad sense all the above activities could be considered therapy because they kept my brain active as my body healed itself. They kept me from going crazy in my inactivity. I'll be interested to see what physical therapy looks like, and I will pair it with music because that's what makes me happy and that's what I do. The music may not make me heal faster or more completely, but the music will make the process more enjoyable, and for me that's enough.
Elton John said it best: "Music has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours."
9/25/18
The Wanderer, my favorite hospice patient, is still alive and kicking. She no longer wanders; she is in a wheelchair. She has bouts of sleepiness, and sometimes she naps during my visits with my instruments. The Wanderer is still as social as ever, though, and she is opinionated and bossy. Sometimes she makes up words, and very often her sentences end completely differently than where they started. She entertains me to no end. Today I tried to explain to her that I will be gone for six weeks to have a hip replacement. (Yes, I'm too young for this... more later.) Here is a snippet of today's conversation as she tries to give me advice:
The Wanderer: If your place is the first one, just tell them, "Hey, listen, you know, this is {real name}, and I want to see what other thing that she could be dee in the door could all the way come back."
Me: Okay.
The Wanderer: And then give them a little cost.
Me: If I tell them that, will it make a difference? Do you think they'd listen to you?
The Wanderer: Yeah, my gosh, it was so much and the higher. I put the three words in her. SHEEEEE! But it looks better on you right there.
Me: Thank you.
The Wanderer: The one girl, she said that she could get in and to an old goal brobid. Now that would be funny. {Laughs} That would be be in. Yeah, it kinda comes out a rebbitay. You like the clut?
Me: I do.
The Wanderer: That's the other girl. Her name is 4 5 A E I I E A I I.
Me: Ooooh, THAT'S an interesting name!
The Wanderer: You look at really more.
Sigh. I'm going to miss The Wanderer as I take off these next six weeks.
The Wanderer, my favorite hospice patient, is still alive and kicking. She no longer wanders; she is in a wheelchair. She has bouts of sleepiness, and sometimes she naps during my visits with my instruments. The Wanderer is still as social as ever, though, and she is opinionated and bossy. Sometimes she makes up words, and very often her sentences end completely differently than where they started. She entertains me to no end. Today I tried to explain to her that I will be gone for six weeks to have a hip replacement. (Yes, I'm too young for this... more later.) Here is a snippet of today's conversation as she tries to give me advice:
The Wanderer: If your place is the first one, just tell them, "Hey, listen, you know, this is {real name}, and I want to see what other thing that she could be dee in the door could all the way come back."
Me: Okay.
The Wanderer: And then give them a little cost.
Me: If I tell them that, will it make a difference? Do you think they'd listen to you?
The Wanderer: Yeah, my gosh, it was so much and the higher. I put the three words in her. SHEEEEE! But it looks better on you right there.
Me: Thank you.
The Wanderer: The one girl, she said that she could get in and to an old goal brobid. Now that would be funny. {Laughs} That would be be in. Yeah, it kinda comes out a rebbitay. You like the clut?
Me: I do.
The Wanderer: That's the other girl. Her name is 4 5 A E I I E A I I.
Me: Ooooh, THAT'S an interesting name!
The Wanderer: You look at really more.
Sigh. I'm going to miss The Wanderer as I take off these next six weeks.
8/29/2018
Most embarrassing moment EVER:
On Wednesdays I roam the hallways of Mercy Fairfield Hospital. I stop at each patient room and ask if I may sing a little song. After I "make the rounds", I spend another hour or so singing in the lobby for folks. Today I was asked to go down to the Emergency Department to sing for folks there. I was hesitant, because I envisioned patients with urgent and serious problems. Wouldn't hurting people just want to be taken care of and allowed to go home? But the staff there invited me to visit; so I went. I had a ball. I sang "Happy Birthday" to a staff member. I sang "You Are My Sunshine" to a little boy who was patiently sitting in his mother's lap while Grandma's blood was being drawn. I received smiles all along the way, and I was beginning to think I could do this every week.
Then I burst into the Emergency Department waiting room singing "Hey, Good Lookin'." As I sang to a surprised audience, my eyes traveled to the TV screen where John McCain's funeral was being broadcast. I was being silly and loud during a very solemn moment, and I was mortified. I finished the verse, made profuse apologies, and promptly left.
I learned a lesson today. Scope it out before barreling in like a bull in a china shop. Be sensitive to surroundings. Next week I'll be better.
Most embarrassing moment EVER:
On Wednesdays I roam the hallways of Mercy Fairfield Hospital. I stop at each patient room and ask if I may sing a little song. After I "make the rounds", I spend another hour or so singing in the lobby for folks. Today I was asked to go down to the Emergency Department to sing for folks there. I was hesitant, because I envisioned patients with urgent and serious problems. Wouldn't hurting people just want to be taken care of and allowed to go home? But the staff there invited me to visit; so I went. I had a ball. I sang "Happy Birthday" to a staff member. I sang "You Are My Sunshine" to a little boy who was patiently sitting in his mother's lap while Grandma's blood was being drawn. I received smiles all along the way, and I was beginning to think I could do this every week.
Then I burst into the Emergency Department waiting room singing "Hey, Good Lookin'." As I sang to a surprised audience, my eyes traveled to the TV screen where John McCain's funeral was being broadcast. I was being silly and loud during a very solemn moment, and I was mortified. I finished the verse, made profuse apologies, and promptly left.
I learned a lesson today. Scope it out before barreling in like a bull in a china shop. Be sensitive to surroundings. Next week I'll be better.
8/20/2018
Herb and I took a mission trip with our church to Kenya a couple of weeks ago. Herb provided medical care in clinics, and I led a music class at the camp that we put on for 100 Maasai children at Africa Hope. Others from our church organized crafts for the kids, painted girls' fingernails, played volleyball and soccer with them, blew bubbles, and loved on these children like crazy. Our hearts are full.
Children in Kenya learn English in school. I taught them simple songs about Jesus, and we had a great time. "This Little Light of Mine" kept eliciting giggles every time we sang "Won't let Satan >blow< it out", and I wasn't sure why. Finally, one little boy came up to me and said, "What is 'IT OUT'?" It out? Like you blow out a candle. I broke it down every way I knew how, re-explained that we don't want the devil to put out the light in our souls, that you blow out a flame with your breath, and they still giggled. "It out?", he asked repeatedly. Yes. Giggle, giggle.
At debrief I asked our Africa Hope leader about it. He didn't get it, either. He said that candles are very expensive, and the Maasai wouldn't use them. (Extreme poverty is rampant in this part of Africa.) But the Maasai have fire in their homes to cook and keep warm, and they certainly understand flame. In the end, I got no answer, but I'm glad I was able to share some laughs with these beautiful children.
Herb and I took a mission trip with our church to Kenya a couple of weeks ago. Herb provided medical care in clinics, and I led a music class at the camp that we put on for 100 Maasai children at Africa Hope. Others from our church organized crafts for the kids, painted girls' fingernails, played volleyball and soccer with them, blew bubbles, and loved on these children like crazy. Our hearts are full.
Children in Kenya learn English in school. I taught them simple songs about Jesus, and we had a great time. "This Little Light of Mine" kept eliciting giggles every time we sang "Won't let Satan >blow< it out", and I wasn't sure why. Finally, one little boy came up to me and said, "What is 'IT OUT'?" It out? Like you blow out a candle. I broke it down every way I knew how, re-explained that we don't want the devil to put out the light in our souls, that you blow out a flame with your breath, and they still giggled. "It out?", he asked repeatedly. Yes. Giggle, giggle.
At debrief I asked our Africa Hope leader about it. He didn't get it, either. He said that candles are very expensive, and the Maasai wouldn't use them. (Extreme poverty is rampant in this part of Africa.) But the Maasai have fire in their homes to cook and keep warm, and they certainly understand flame. In the end, I got no answer, but I'm glad I was able to share some laughs with these beautiful children.
7/18/2018
Two weeks ago, on the Fourth of July, I took my banjo to the hospital. I stood at the door of a patient's room, and I asked if I could sing her a song. She and her visitor assented, and I sang "Battle Hymn of the Republic" in honor of the holiday. When I finished, the patient began talking a blue streak. Her name was Pauline, and her father was a musician. Pauline described each instrument that he played, and then she got serious. She said, "I'm not going to survive this," and she wanted to get her things in order.
Pauline had given her father's other instruments to a young friend who appreciated such things, but she hadn't found the right home for the Ludwig "Kingston" banjo that was over 100 years old. She didn't ask me; she TOLD me that this banjo was mine. I protested. It belonged to a family member or friend who knew her. Pauline was insistent. She had no family, and she agonized over where this banjo should go. I was the obvious choice as this banjo's new owner. Her visiting friend told me that she would be sure to make Pauline's wish come true.
Well. I was honored and flabbergasted. And I also know how these things go. People mean well. I mentioned it in passing that evening to my husband and to my dad and Aunt Virginia who were visiting, and I told them that this lovely lady liked my music enough that for a fleeting moment she thought she might give me something, and that was enough. Pauline made my day. Then I forgot all about it.
Today, after all the phone tag and messages left at the front desk of the hospital, Pauline's friend Mary Jo met me in the lobby with a four-string tenor banjo that has been loved. Mary Jo told me how she had friends praying that she could reconnect with a musician she had no contact information for and had met only once. I've been teary and goose-bumpy all day. I think every employee and volunteer I crossed paths with today heard me tell the story of Pauline's gift to a stranger who loves music. God bless you, Pauline, for your generosity and kindness, and God bless you, Mary Jo, for helping your friend carry out her wishes.
Two weeks ago, on the Fourth of July, I took my banjo to the hospital. I stood at the door of a patient's room, and I asked if I could sing her a song. She and her visitor assented, and I sang "Battle Hymn of the Republic" in honor of the holiday. When I finished, the patient began talking a blue streak. Her name was Pauline, and her father was a musician. Pauline described each instrument that he played, and then she got serious. She said, "I'm not going to survive this," and she wanted to get her things in order.
Pauline had given her father's other instruments to a young friend who appreciated such things, but she hadn't found the right home for the Ludwig "Kingston" banjo that was over 100 years old. She didn't ask me; she TOLD me that this banjo was mine. I protested. It belonged to a family member or friend who knew her. Pauline was insistent. She had no family, and she agonized over where this banjo should go. I was the obvious choice as this banjo's new owner. Her visiting friend told me that she would be sure to make Pauline's wish come true.
Well. I was honored and flabbergasted. And I also know how these things go. People mean well. I mentioned it in passing that evening to my husband and to my dad and Aunt Virginia who were visiting, and I told them that this lovely lady liked my music enough that for a fleeting moment she thought she might give me something, and that was enough. Pauline made my day. Then I forgot all about it.
Today, after all the phone tag and messages left at the front desk of the hospital, Pauline's friend Mary Jo met me in the lobby with a four-string tenor banjo that has been loved. Mary Jo told me how she had friends praying that she could reconnect with a musician she had no contact information for and had met only once. I've been teary and goose-bumpy all day. I think every employee and volunteer I crossed paths with today heard me tell the story of Pauline's gift to a stranger who loves music. God bless you, Pauline, for your generosity and kindness, and God bless you, Mary Jo, for helping your friend carry out her wishes.
6/22/2018
Yesterday I did something I've always wanted to do. I busked in downtown Loveland. Busking is playing music on the street for the pocket change of passersby. (My husband thought I should include this definition because he had never heard the term before.) However, instead of gathering money to feed a family or pay bills, I participated in The Longest Day to raise funds for the Alzheimer's Association.
Mom suffered from Alzheimer's disease, and after she passed away last August, I started looking for a way to honor her memory. This was it.
I was prepared. I approached the city permit office to see what I needed to set up on the street. The police were made aware of my presence. I checked out other musicians that set up in the same spot on Friday evenings, noting that they had a canopy and tip jars. The Alzheimer's Association website had downloadable graphics that I printed, and I ordered my event t-shirt and participant's kit. I posted on Facebook every week to remind my friends that the event was coming. Donations began to pour in even before the day of the event.
The Longest Day (June 21, the summer solstice) arrived, and I was ready. It rained. ALL DAY. And I had a ball. My brother and niece came to sing with me for an hour or so. We sang songs that Mom loved, and we shared memories of her and laughed. A neighbor stopped in to wish me luck. A new friend from my DAR chapter came with her husband. They were worried that I wasn't drawing a crowd in the pouring down rain. The folks at the restaurant next door felt sorry for me and threw money in my banjo case as they raced from the restaurant to their cars in the rain. Mostly I sang with sunshine in my heart and a smile on my face, by myself, as cars passed by slowly and waved to me as I had one nice long practice session. I ended up with $86 in my banjo case to give to the Alzheimer's Association. Add that to what folks gave on Facebook, and I met my goal of $1000 and then some.
I see the effects of Alzheimer's disease almost daily in my interactions with hospice patients and in my nursing home visits. I would do just about anything to help eradicate this horrible disease from the earth. I know I donated very little toward the cause, but I am encouraged by this quote from Mother Teresa: "What we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something."
Yesterday I did something I've always wanted to do. I busked in downtown Loveland. Busking is playing music on the street for the pocket change of passersby. (My husband thought I should include this definition because he had never heard the term before.) However, instead of gathering money to feed a family or pay bills, I participated in The Longest Day to raise funds for the Alzheimer's Association.
Mom suffered from Alzheimer's disease, and after she passed away last August, I started looking for a way to honor her memory. This was it.
I was prepared. I approached the city permit office to see what I needed to set up on the street. The police were made aware of my presence. I checked out other musicians that set up in the same spot on Friday evenings, noting that they had a canopy and tip jars. The Alzheimer's Association website had downloadable graphics that I printed, and I ordered my event t-shirt and participant's kit. I posted on Facebook every week to remind my friends that the event was coming. Donations began to pour in even before the day of the event.
The Longest Day (June 21, the summer solstice) arrived, and I was ready. It rained. ALL DAY. And I had a ball. My brother and niece came to sing with me for an hour or so. We sang songs that Mom loved, and we shared memories of her and laughed. A neighbor stopped in to wish me luck. A new friend from my DAR chapter came with her husband. They were worried that I wasn't drawing a crowd in the pouring down rain. The folks at the restaurant next door felt sorry for me and threw money in my banjo case as they raced from the restaurant to their cars in the rain. Mostly I sang with sunshine in my heart and a smile on my face, by myself, as cars passed by slowly and waved to me as I had one nice long practice session. I ended up with $86 in my banjo case to give to the Alzheimer's Association. Add that to what folks gave on Facebook, and I met my goal of $1000 and then some.
I see the effects of Alzheimer's disease almost daily in my interactions with hospice patients and in my nursing home visits. I would do just about anything to help eradicate this horrible disease from the earth. I know I donated very little toward the cause, but I am encouraged by this quote from Mother Teresa: "What we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something."
6/3/2018
I always have a book in my hand; therefore, it stands to reason that my favorite books, fact and fiction, are about music. In the last months I've asked my reading friends, my book club, and others what their favorite music books are. I've read them all, and I've narrowed down the field to my favorite top five:
1. The Music Lesson by Victor Wooten. Every musician needs to read this book. Fiction.
2. Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain by Oliver Sacks. The brain is an intricate machine that sometimes misfires. Fascinating nonfiction.
3. The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom. The narrator of this one is Music. Fiction.
4. Body and Soul by Frank Conroy. Claude Rawlings is a piano prodigy who uses music to navigate through this world. Fiction.
5. This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession by Daniel Levitin. Scientific studies of the brain and music reveal answers to the mysteries of music. Nonfiction.
Of course, there are many other books worthy of mention, and there are books that I should warn folks about because they are awful. However, I'll stop here for now because I know that these things are often a matter of taste. I hope you enjoy my Top Five.
I always have a book in my hand; therefore, it stands to reason that my favorite books, fact and fiction, are about music. In the last months I've asked my reading friends, my book club, and others what their favorite music books are. I've read them all, and I've narrowed down the field to my favorite top five:
1. The Music Lesson by Victor Wooten. Every musician needs to read this book. Fiction.
2. Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain by Oliver Sacks. The brain is an intricate machine that sometimes misfires. Fascinating nonfiction.
3. The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom. The narrator of this one is Music. Fiction.
4. Body and Soul by Frank Conroy. Claude Rawlings is a piano prodigy who uses music to navigate through this world. Fiction.
5. This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession by Daniel Levitin. Scientific studies of the brain and music reveal answers to the mysteries of music. Nonfiction.
Of course, there are many other books worthy of mention, and there are books that I should warn folks about because they are awful. However, I'll stop here for now because I know that these things are often a matter of taste. I hope you enjoy my Top Five.
5/21/2018
Note to self and all my fellow dulcimer players:
Skirts are fun and flattering UNLESS your legs are spread wide to play the dulcimer. A skirt-wearing dulcimer player just makes everyone uncomfortable. Don't do it.
Note to self and all my fellow dulcimer players:
Skirts are fun and flattering UNLESS your legs are spread wide to play the dulcimer. A skirt-wearing dulcimer player just makes everyone uncomfortable. Don't do it.
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5/16/2018
Today I did something I never do. I got tickled and snapped a photo. Usually I do Facebook and email on my own time - NOT when I'm on the clock as a volunteer. But I couldn't help myself. I found a quiet waiting room and posted this photo on Facebook along with this comment: "What can a girl do when she is playing music at the hospital and she has to go to the bathroom? I wasn't aware that they have these nice instrument holders!" Hahaha... I crack myself up. But wait. There's more. After I posted the photo I walked down the hallway to begin singing in the lobby. A woman and another volunteer stopped me to ask all kinds of questions about what I do. It turns out that this woman is Elaine Hemmelgarn with Mercy Foundation. She is looking to help fund musicians and artists to come to Mercy hospitals to help in the healing process. We exchanged ideas and business cards. I was supposed to meet Elaine today. My husband Herb calls these "Divine Appointments". If I hadn't taken time for the silliness of Facebook, I'm sure there would have been some other interruption in my day so that Elaine and I would cross paths. I can't wait to see what art and music can do for patients throughout Mercy! |
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5/2/2018
Honoring veterans is one of my favorite things. Today I sang "Battle Hymn of the Republic" for a 99-year-old WWII veteran. Thanking him for his service was the best part of my day.
NOTE: I try to do this every chance I get whenever I see a soldier in uniform or a veteran wearing a hat or jacket emblazoned with the name of a war or branch of military service. I am always blessed by sharing a song to thank a person for his or her service to our country.
Honoring veterans is one of my favorite things. Today I sang "Battle Hymn of the Republic" for a 99-year-old WWII veteran. Thanking him for his service was the best part of my day.
NOTE: I try to do this every chance I get whenever I see a soldier in uniform or a veteran wearing a hat or jacket emblazoned with the name of a war or branch of military service. I am always blessed by sharing a song to thank a person for his or her service to our country.
4/25/2018
Here's an unexpected development: Patients and staff at the hospital anticipate and look forward to my Wednesday visits.
One patient on rehab told me that he was waiting on me today. He said I was the bright spot in his weeks in the hospital, and he wanted to let me know he would be discharged next Tuesday. Rehabilitation for him was slow and discouraging, but he said I always made him smile and forget his troubles for a bit.
Down in the lobby, a gentleman from the outpatient waiting room told me he wouldn't usually schedule an appointment on a Wednesday, but unusual circumstances made him come in today. When he found out that I was in the lobby every Wednesday to play and sing for folks, he made another Wednesday appointment just so that he could hear me again.
When I appeared on the ICU with my banjo, a nurse met me with a smile and a hint that I may want to pop in So-and-So's room because she loves music. I didn't go directly to the patient's room. I made my way around the circle as usual, stopping at each room to sing and visit with the other patients. When I arrived at So-and-So's room, she told me that she heard me coming down the hall singing, and she was glad I finally got to her. We had a nice chat, and we sang "Crawdad Song" together.
The lesson here is that I can give folks something good to look forward to in their schedules of tests, uncertainty, and illness.
Here's an unexpected development: Patients and staff at the hospital anticipate and look forward to my Wednesday visits.
One patient on rehab told me that he was waiting on me today. He said I was the bright spot in his weeks in the hospital, and he wanted to let me know he would be discharged next Tuesday. Rehabilitation for him was slow and discouraging, but he said I always made him smile and forget his troubles for a bit.
Down in the lobby, a gentleman from the outpatient waiting room told me he wouldn't usually schedule an appointment on a Wednesday, but unusual circumstances made him come in today. When he found out that I was in the lobby every Wednesday to play and sing for folks, he made another Wednesday appointment just so that he could hear me again.
When I appeared on the ICU with my banjo, a nurse met me with a smile and a hint that I may want to pop in So-and-So's room because she loves music. I didn't go directly to the patient's room. I made my way around the circle as usual, stopping at each room to sing and visit with the other patients. When I arrived at So-and-So's room, she told me that she heard me coming down the hall singing, and she was glad I finally got to her. We had a nice chat, and we sang "Crawdad Song" together.
The lesson here is that I can give folks something good to look forward to in their schedules of tests, uncertainty, and illness.
4/10/2018
Today an assisted living resident wished me "Merry Christmas". She made my day. Sometimes you just gotta laugh.
Today an assisted living resident wished me "Merry Christmas". She made my day. Sometimes you just gotta laugh.
4/8/2018
About a month ago I started a new gig. In addition to singing and playing music for hospice and nursing homes, I've begun roaming the hallways at Mercy Fairfield Hospital as a strolling musician. On Wednesdays I can now be found on patient floors traveling from room to room with an instrument and a pocketful of songs. When I'm through visiting patients, I head to the lobby and waiting areas to sing for another hour or so.
Of course, sharing music in itself is rewarding, but there's more to it. Music often prompts folks to share a memory or tell a tale. Allowing patients to tell their stories is inspirational and encouraging. These are some things I've heard:
"I'm 27 years old, and I've had 30 surgeries in my life. I was a preemie baby. Today my mom is having surgery, and I'm here for her like she has been with me through every surgery I've had."
"I'm having surgery tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Please pray for me."
One woman several rooms away poked her head out of a patient room when she heard me singing "How Great Thou Art". I rarely sing "How Great Thou Art", but the song kept coming to mind, so I sang it to get it out of my head. (I've learned that sometimes a song just can't be denied!) This woman came and dragged me down the hallway to her mother's room so that I could sing "How Great Thou Art" to her elderly mother in a hospital bed. She said, "Mom, Paula is here to sing your favorite song to you." Everyone in the room sang along. There were tears. Some of them might have been mine.
"I sing that song to my grandchildren!" We talked about how important grandmas are to passing on songs and traditions.
"I play the guitar. Do you know any old style country music?" He sang every word of "Hey, Good Lookin' " with me. That led to a discussion of Hank Williams, The Carter Family, Marty Robbins, and some other country greats.
I LOVE MY LIFE.
3/14/2018
Since moving to Cincinnati, I've jumped into a volunteer life with my music, and I love it. I just recently started playing and singing every week at the brand new Magnolia Springs nursing facility in their Memory Care Unit. These folks have memory issues, but they love music. One gentleman loves to dance, and one darling gal seems to always "remember" a verse from a song that we did two songs ago. A man they call Reverend loves not only the old hymns but also the old-timey songs from Appalachia. But it's not just the patients that make my day at Magnolia Springs. The staff is super enthusiastic, and the patients are loved. I am thankful that I can serve these elders, and I'm thankful for the others who serve them, too. I'm surrounded every day by caring, nurturing, helpful human beings in the many facilities I visit. If you are one of those staff people, know that I am in awe of you, and I strive to be happy and positive just like you!
Since moving to Cincinnati, I've jumped into a volunteer life with my music, and I love it. I just recently started playing and singing every week at the brand new Magnolia Springs nursing facility in their Memory Care Unit. These folks have memory issues, but they love music. One gentleman loves to dance, and one darling gal seems to always "remember" a verse from a song that we did two songs ago. A man they call Reverend loves not only the old hymns but also the old-timey songs from Appalachia. But it's not just the patients that make my day at Magnolia Springs. The staff is super enthusiastic, and the patients are loved. I am thankful that I can serve these elders, and I'm thankful for the others who serve them, too. I'm surrounded every day by caring, nurturing, helpful human beings in the many facilities I visit. If you are one of those staff people, know that I am in awe of you, and I strive to be happy and positive just like you!
2/20/2018
Today at Otterbein I arrived to beautiful music coming from the common room. One of the ladies was playing the piano by ear in that old-time church style that I love. I got out my ukulele, and we spent the next twenty minutes improvising and sharing the music. This lovely lady made my day:
Today at Otterbein I arrived to beautiful music coming from the common room. One of the ladies was playing the piano by ear in that old-time church style that I love. I got out my ukulele, and we spent the next twenty minutes improvising and sharing the music. This lovely lady made my day:
2/6/18
Thank you, God, for allowing me to share music with hospice patients. The Singer grew up in church, and he loves to sing. He is teaching me a hymn from his African-Amercan church, and he wants to learn all the songs I sing. He has a grizzled bass voice, and even if he doesn't know the song, he harmonizes and adds what he can.
Today my good friend and fellow hospice worker Linda Measner came in to The Singer's room and sang "His Eye is on the Sparrow" with us, a cappella and in harmony. After she left, we sang many old church songs. When our visit was over, I told The Singer, "We've just been to church!" This man is precious.
Here is a recording of me, the mountain dulcimer, The Singer, and a fun version of "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain":
youtu.be/GbRG7gRjoLw
Thank you, God, for allowing me to share music with hospice patients. The Singer grew up in church, and he loves to sing. He is teaching me a hymn from his African-Amercan church, and he wants to learn all the songs I sing. He has a grizzled bass voice, and even if he doesn't know the song, he harmonizes and adds what he can.
Today my good friend and fellow hospice worker Linda Measner came in to The Singer's room and sang "His Eye is on the Sparrow" with us, a cappella and in harmony. After she left, we sang many old church songs. When our visit was over, I told The Singer, "We've just been to church!" This man is precious.
Here is a recording of me, the mountain dulcimer, The Singer, and a fun version of "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain":
youtu.be/GbRG7gRjoLw
1/12/18
In between nursing home and hospice visits, I've been taking an online iPhone photography class. This class has encouraged me to see people and things in different ways than usual, and I've been able to share photos with a group of fellow photographers who have encouraged and critiqued and given me suggestions.
Here is a series of hands. Some are from Otterbein. One set is The Wanderer's (yes, she's still wandering). One set is the joker from my last post. One set is a patient who passed away this week. She struggled until the end. Each set of hands tells a story of caregiving, hard work, or the battles of life. My patients were more than happy for me to photograph their hands for my little project. As a hospice volunteer, I hold a lot of hands. These are precious to me. Enjoy!
In between nursing home and hospice visits, I've been taking an online iPhone photography class. This class has encouraged me to see people and things in different ways than usual, and I've been able to share photos with a group of fellow photographers who have encouraged and critiqued and given me suggestions.
Here is a series of hands. Some are from Otterbein. One set is The Wanderer's (yes, she's still wandering). One set is the joker from my last post. One set is a patient who passed away this week. She struggled until the end. Each set of hands tells a story of caregiving, hard work, or the battles of life. My patients were more than happy for me to photograph their hands for my little project. As a hospice volunteer, I hold a lot of hands. These are precious to me. Enjoy!
12/14/17
The Otterbein I play for every week has grown! They have opened their fifth house, and I'm now playing over lunch at three houses on Tuesdays and two houses on Thursdays.
Today as I was playing Christmas carols on the hammered dulcimer, I became quite warm. It's freezing cold outside, and I was dressed in a festive sweater and scarf. But hot flashes don't care what the weather is outside. After finishing up "Joy to the World", I took off the scarf and started fanning myself. One little old gal asked if I was all right.
I said, "Yes, I'm okay; I'm just having a hot flash. You remember hot flashes, don't you?"
She answered, "No, I really don't."
"Well, you were really lucky not to have had them," I said.
Without skipping a beat, she remarked, "Oh, I HAD them. I just don't REMEMBER them!" She then smiled widely as everyone laughed.
The Otterbein I play for every week has grown! They have opened their fifth house, and I'm now playing over lunch at three houses on Tuesdays and two houses on Thursdays.
Today as I was playing Christmas carols on the hammered dulcimer, I became quite warm. It's freezing cold outside, and I was dressed in a festive sweater and scarf. But hot flashes don't care what the weather is outside. After finishing up "Joy to the World", I took off the scarf and started fanning myself. One little old gal asked if I was all right.
I said, "Yes, I'm okay; I'm just having a hot flash. You remember hot flashes, don't you?"
She answered, "No, I really don't."
"Well, you were really lucky not to have had them," I said.
Without skipping a beat, she remarked, "Oh, I HAD them. I just don't REMEMBER them!" She then smiled widely as everyone laughed.
12/4/17
The hospice patient from my last post had me worried. I visited him last week, and he seemed so deteriorated that I hardly recognized him. I asked him if he would like music today, and even though I heard him say a mumbly, "No, not today," I plowed ahead by playing and singing with my dulcimer. Sometimes patients are confused, and sometimes they are easily convinced that a little music might be all right after all. Well, he let me have it, and I deserved it. He stuttered and stumbled over his words, but the message was clear. He didn't want me there. I had disregarded his wishes, and he called me on it. I apologized profusely and promptly left. As I left, he said a clear "Thank you for coming."
Today when I saw him, he was improved a little from last week. I still had to pay attention to his muffled speech, but today I was ready. I asked him if he wanted some Christmas music, and he assented. An aide wheeled him down to his room for me. (The other residents were watching a Christmas movie in the common room, and we didn't want to disturb them.) I asked my patient if he sang. He smiled and said no. I asked the aide if he sang. The aide said no. My patient said that he had heard the aide sing. "He's right!" My patient laughed heartily at his own joke. In between Christmas carols accompanied by autoharp, we spoke of his growing up, and he asked me about my family. He kept trying to say I reminded him of someone, but I wasn't understanding him. Did I look like his daughter? Did I act like his mother? No. I finally got it. I look like his grandfather. Oh, well. At least today he is happy. When it came time for me to go, he wanted me to stay. I sang another song and told him I'd see him next week. I floated home.
The hospice patient from my last post had me worried. I visited him last week, and he seemed so deteriorated that I hardly recognized him. I asked him if he would like music today, and even though I heard him say a mumbly, "No, not today," I plowed ahead by playing and singing with my dulcimer. Sometimes patients are confused, and sometimes they are easily convinced that a little music might be all right after all. Well, he let me have it, and I deserved it. He stuttered and stumbled over his words, but the message was clear. He didn't want me there. I had disregarded his wishes, and he called me on it. I apologized profusely and promptly left. As I left, he said a clear "Thank you for coming."
Today when I saw him, he was improved a little from last week. I still had to pay attention to his muffled speech, but today I was ready. I asked him if he wanted some Christmas music, and he assented. An aide wheeled him down to his room for me. (The other residents were watching a Christmas movie in the common room, and we didn't want to disturb them.) I asked my patient if he sang. He smiled and said no. I asked the aide if he sang. The aide said no. My patient said that he had heard the aide sing. "He's right!" My patient laughed heartily at his own joke. In between Christmas carols accompanied by autoharp, we spoke of his growing up, and he asked me about my family. He kept trying to say I reminded him of someone, but I wasn't understanding him. Did I look like his daughter? Did I act like his mother? No. I finally got it. I look like his grandfather. Oh, well. At least today he is happy. When it came time for me to go, he wanted me to stay. I sang another song and told him I'd see him next week. I floated home.
11/20/17
Today I met a new hospice patient. I introduced myself and asked if I could share music with him. He said he would really like that. Oh, and while we're at it, do you think it would be okay to share the music with everyone sitting here? He thought that would be great. I played my banjo and sang several songs. This gentleman responded, "You are what this world needs. More happy music!" We talked, and he told me of his life. I discovered that he had been in the Marine Corps. When I sang "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" in honor of all those who served in the armed services, he puffed up, pleased as punch. Several in the room responded positively to the music. After a half hour of entertaining the folks and chatting with my patient, he abruptly said, "I think that's enough!" I can take a hint. I gracefully bowed and asked him if it would be all right if I came back every Monday to sing for him. Although he thinks that might be a little too much, he said we could try it and see. I'm looking forward to getting to know this man in the weeks to come. I think we will be fast friends.
Today I met a new hospice patient. I introduced myself and asked if I could share music with him. He said he would really like that. Oh, and while we're at it, do you think it would be okay to share the music with everyone sitting here? He thought that would be great. I played my banjo and sang several songs. This gentleman responded, "You are what this world needs. More happy music!" We talked, and he told me of his life. I discovered that he had been in the Marine Corps. When I sang "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" in honor of all those who served in the armed services, he puffed up, pleased as punch. Several in the room responded positively to the music. After a half hour of entertaining the folks and chatting with my patient, he abruptly said, "I think that's enough!" I can take a hint. I gracefully bowed and asked him if it would be all right if I came back every Monday to sing for him. Although he thinks that might be a little too much, he said we could try it and see. I'm looking forward to getting to know this man in the weeks to come. I think we will be fast friends.
10/12/17
Last week I was singing with my ukulele for a hospice patient in a nursing facility. She has allowed me to share the music in the common area with the other residents. A gentleman who was visiting his wife kept requesting songs, singing, clapping, and getting his wife to join in. At the end, he took me aside and told me he plays guitar. Would I mind if he brought his guitar sometime and played with me? Ummm... Are you kidding me? I would love it! I asked my patient for her permission, and she said that "as long as they don't try to take over", it was okay with her. So today I brought my banjo, and my new friend Don brought his guitar, and we rocked the house with old timey songs and hymns. He even did a couple solos as I sang and played backup for him. I had a goofy grin on my face the entire visit; I couldn't help myself. My patient was delighted when I had the group applaud for HER because she "sponsored" our little concert. Here are Don and his wife Beulah:
Last week I was singing with my ukulele for a hospice patient in a nursing facility. She has allowed me to share the music in the common area with the other residents. A gentleman who was visiting his wife kept requesting songs, singing, clapping, and getting his wife to join in. At the end, he took me aside and told me he plays guitar. Would I mind if he brought his guitar sometime and played with me? Ummm... Are you kidding me? I would love it! I asked my patient for her permission, and she said that "as long as they don't try to take over", it was okay with her. So today I brought my banjo, and my new friend Don brought his guitar, and we rocked the house with old timey songs and hymns. He even did a couple solos as I sang and played backup for him. I had a goofy grin on my face the entire visit; I couldn't help myself. My patient was delighted when I had the group applaud for HER because she "sponsored" our little concert. Here are Don and his wife Beulah:
9/20/17
One of my hospice patients at a local nursing facility truly loves the music I bring, but she often sleeps through my visits. She allows me to share the music with everyone, though, and our visits take place in the common area where everyone can enjoy the music. These folks LOVE to sing.
One of those folks, The Helper, comes every day to see her husband, and she often tells me how much the music means to them both. This short and stout woman was in her element today. I brought my banjo, and The Helper helped me pull a bench up to my patient. I thanked her, saying that I did something to my hip a while ago; therefore, I double appreciated her assistance. The Helper sang with me heartily and made sure everyone was welcome as they were drawn out of their rooms by the music. She even sang a solo rendition of "Jesus Loves Me" in Spanish to wild applause. When my visit was finished, The Helper put back the bench and took me aside to say that she would pray not only for my hip, but also for the music ministry I bring to folks. The Helper said my music was a blessing to all of them. I told her that my mother had passed away 6 weeks ago or so, and Mom always said to all of us, "I love you and pray for you daily." And since Mom wasn't here on earth to pray for me anymore, I would love to have The Helper pray for me. Thank you, God, for The Helper and her kindness. Bless her as you have blessed me today.
One of my hospice patients at a local nursing facility truly loves the music I bring, but she often sleeps through my visits. She allows me to share the music with everyone, though, and our visits take place in the common area where everyone can enjoy the music. These folks LOVE to sing.
One of those folks, The Helper, comes every day to see her husband, and she often tells me how much the music means to them both. This short and stout woman was in her element today. I brought my banjo, and The Helper helped me pull a bench up to my patient. I thanked her, saying that I did something to my hip a while ago; therefore, I double appreciated her assistance. The Helper sang with me heartily and made sure everyone was welcome as they were drawn out of their rooms by the music. She even sang a solo rendition of "Jesus Loves Me" in Spanish to wild applause. When my visit was finished, The Helper put back the bench and took me aside to say that she would pray not only for my hip, but also for the music ministry I bring to folks. The Helper said my music was a blessing to all of them. I told her that my mother had passed away 6 weeks ago or so, and Mom always said to all of us, "I love you and pray for you daily." And since Mom wasn't here on earth to pray for me anymore, I would love to have The Helper pray for me. Thank you, God, for The Helper and her kindness. Bless her as you have blessed me today.
8/30/17
Yesterday I played my ukulele and sang at Otterbein. I play at three houses, twenty minutes each, over lunch every Tuesday. When I arrived at the second house, only one elderly lady was sitting at the dining table. Lunch was over early, and all the other residents had gone back to their rooms. I asked the gal if she would like to join me in the common room. I would serenade her for twenty minutes. I was amazed that she, in her wheelchair, kept moving to the music, exercising her legs and arms. I asked her if she was a dancer. To my surprise, she said that she grew up near a lake town where there was a dance hall. Her dad took her and her brother to all the dances. She then proceeded to tell me pieces of her story in between the songs that triggered her memories. Delightful!
Yesterday I played my ukulele and sang at Otterbein. I play at three houses, twenty minutes each, over lunch every Tuesday. When I arrived at the second house, only one elderly lady was sitting at the dining table. Lunch was over early, and all the other residents had gone back to their rooms. I asked the gal if she would like to join me in the common room. I would serenade her for twenty minutes. I was amazed that she, in her wheelchair, kept moving to the music, exercising her legs and arms. I asked her if she was a dancer. To my surprise, she said that she grew up near a lake town where there was a dance hall. Her dad took her and her brother to all the dances. She then proceeded to tell me pieces of her story in between the songs that triggered her memories. Delightful!
8/15/17
Mom passed away one week ago today. She had Alzheimer's disease, but I think I speak for everyone in the family when I say it was a blessing that she died suddenly without having spent one day in a nursing facility or hospital because of her debilitating disease. Music played a part in our grief and healing. Mom loved music. We were able to choose songs for the funeral that she liked. One of my sisters requested that we sing "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart" with my ukulele. Dad relieved the tension when he sang "When the Hearse Goes By", an old Boy Scout song that in part says:
"The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout."
Dad says it can't ALL be sad.
Music was great for Mom in the years after her diagnosis. Sometimes she was frustrated at not remembering new things. (She would look at her two great-grandsons and say, "Who are these cute little boys?" She never made the memory of them.) But she always remembered lyrics from the old songs, and we could sing with her for long periods of time. Singing was stress-free for all of us. It was something to do that didn't involve having the same conversations over and over.
And now, music is therapy for us. We've looked back at the songs she loved, and we've expressed our good memories of Mom in church and Vacation Bible School with the grandkids. Mom was the church organist for many years, and she made sure all five of her children took piano lessons and played a band instrument in school. Music is a legacy we can give our children. Mom handed that heritage to us and her grandchildren, and as we remember her music, we remember her love for life and her love for us.
Mom passed away one week ago today. She had Alzheimer's disease, but I think I speak for everyone in the family when I say it was a blessing that she died suddenly without having spent one day in a nursing facility or hospital because of her debilitating disease. Music played a part in our grief and healing. Mom loved music. We were able to choose songs for the funeral that she liked. One of my sisters requested that we sing "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart" with my ukulele. Dad relieved the tension when he sang "When the Hearse Goes By", an old Boy Scout song that in part says:
"The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout."
Dad says it can't ALL be sad.
Music was great for Mom in the years after her diagnosis. Sometimes she was frustrated at not remembering new things. (She would look at her two great-grandsons and say, "Who are these cute little boys?" She never made the memory of them.) But she always remembered lyrics from the old songs, and we could sing with her for long periods of time. Singing was stress-free for all of us. It was something to do that didn't involve having the same conversations over and over.
And now, music is therapy for us. We've looked back at the songs she loved, and we've expressed our good memories of Mom in church and Vacation Bible School with the grandkids. Mom was the church organist for many years, and she made sure all five of her children took piano lessons and played a band instrument in school. Music is a legacy we can give our children. Mom handed that heritage to us and her grandchildren, and as we remember her music, we remember her love for life and her love for us.
8/1/17
At Otterbein I sing and play music over lunch every Tuesday. One couple sits quietly at the table each week. He silently sits bent over his meal and she makes sure he eats. He rarely reacts to the music, and she has a permanent smile, though she doesn't say much. Today I took my ukulele, and I started out with a bunch of old love songs. Wouldn't you know, this gentleman sat up and clearly sang every word to every song. When he reached out to take her hand, he had a silly schoolboy grin, and she was over the moon. Here they are:
At Otterbein I sing and play music over lunch every Tuesday. One couple sits quietly at the table each week. He silently sits bent over his meal and she makes sure he eats. He rarely reacts to the music, and she has a permanent smile, though she doesn't say much. Today I took my ukulele, and I started out with a bunch of old love songs. Wouldn't you know, this gentleman sat up and clearly sang every word to every song. When he reached out to take her hand, he had a silly schoolboy grin, and she was over the moon. Here they are:
7/25/17
This week I have a new hospice patient. She is clever, talkative, and genuinely interested in what hospice and I have to offer her. Today I introduced myself and demonstrated the mountain dulcimer. This sweetie sang along with the old songs and was reluctant to see our visit end. I assured her that If she likes the music, I'll come back to see her every week. I am hoping to make her ending days pleasurable.
This is what struck me: Two students in scrubs were roaming the hallways of the facility, and they heard the music. They stopped at my patient's door and listened in. I invited them to sing, dance, or otherwise participate in our little visit. I introduced myself as a hospice volunteer, and one of the students began asking me questions. She soon became embarrassed as if there was something delicate she wanted to ask. In a nutshell, she wondered why a hospice volunteer was singing and playing music for an elderly person who seemed perfectly healthy. I explained that my patient's mind was obviously very sharp but that her physical condition was deteriorating enough that she qualified for hospice. My darling patient only has approximately 6 months or less to live out her life, and I have been asked to be a friendly visitor once a week until she passes.
The point? Don't judge a book by its cover. A person can't tell what another human being is experiencing just by looking at him or her. This is a reminder to me as well. Some of my patients are bed bound, some of them are uncommunicative, some are very active, some are delusional, and some seem to not see or hear me. They are all hospice patients, but they are not the same! I have learned to be careful in my judgments, and these two students are just starting to learn that not all patients (hospice or not) are alike. Actually, It's a good rule for life!
This week I have a new hospice patient. She is clever, talkative, and genuinely interested in what hospice and I have to offer her. Today I introduced myself and demonstrated the mountain dulcimer. This sweetie sang along with the old songs and was reluctant to see our visit end. I assured her that If she likes the music, I'll come back to see her every week. I am hoping to make her ending days pleasurable.
This is what struck me: Two students in scrubs were roaming the hallways of the facility, and they heard the music. They stopped at my patient's door and listened in. I invited them to sing, dance, or otherwise participate in our little visit. I introduced myself as a hospice volunteer, and one of the students began asking me questions. She soon became embarrassed as if there was something delicate she wanted to ask. In a nutshell, she wondered why a hospice volunteer was singing and playing music for an elderly person who seemed perfectly healthy. I explained that my patient's mind was obviously very sharp but that her physical condition was deteriorating enough that she qualified for hospice. My darling patient only has approximately 6 months or less to live out her life, and I have been asked to be a friendly visitor once a week until she passes.
The point? Don't judge a book by its cover. A person can't tell what another human being is experiencing just by looking at him or her. This is a reminder to me as well. Some of my patients are bed bound, some of them are uncommunicative, some are very active, some are delusional, and some seem to not see or hear me. They are all hospice patients, but they are not the same! I have learned to be careful in my judgments, and these two students are just starting to learn that not all patients (hospice or not) are alike. Actually, It's a good rule for life!
6/14/2017
Years ago, when Grandma Now turned 106, I attended her birthday party with my autoharp. The family sang several songs for her. When we sang "You Are My Sunshine", I noticed that one of my uncles sang every single word of all four horrible verses. (Yes, horrible - in the song she cheats on him and leaves him!) Afterward, I told my uncle that I thought I was the only one who knew all the verses, but I was surprised that he sang every word. He reminded me that he and my aunt had inherited the old family player piano. I remembered it always being in their basement. He said that when my dad and his siblings were young, the "little kids" (my dad and his twin brother) would pump the pedals, and the others would sing the lyrics printed on the piano roll.
Fast forward to last week, when the cousins reunited because relatives had come from out of town to visit. A cousin asked me to bring my autoharp to sing "Grandma's Feather Bed". Another cousin mentioned that I had played "Jesus Loves Me" at Grandma's funeral, and that he would always remember that fondly. My uncle's eyes lit up and he waved to me when I retold the above story of Grandma's birthday party, and once again he sang all the words to all the verses. He is 90 years old and going strong. By the way, it was precious to see two uncles, an aunt, and my dad singing together with all the other friends and relatives. One uncle passed several years ago, and we received word that another uncle was passing away at that moment in a nearby town.
The uncle who missed our cousins' reunion has gone on to heaven, and the funeral was yesterday. There was peace. His living siblings all were able to see him before he died. God is good.
Years ago, when Grandma Now turned 106, I attended her birthday party with my autoharp. The family sang several songs for her. When we sang "You Are My Sunshine", I noticed that one of my uncles sang every single word of all four horrible verses. (Yes, horrible - in the song she cheats on him and leaves him!) Afterward, I told my uncle that I thought I was the only one who knew all the verses, but I was surprised that he sang every word. He reminded me that he and my aunt had inherited the old family player piano. I remembered it always being in their basement. He said that when my dad and his siblings were young, the "little kids" (my dad and his twin brother) would pump the pedals, and the others would sing the lyrics printed on the piano roll.
Fast forward to last week, when the cousins reunited because relatives had come from out of town to visit. A cousin asked me to bring my autoharp to sing "Grandma's Feather Bed". Another cousin mentioned that I had played "Jesus Loves Me" at Grandma's funeral, and that he would always remember that fondly. My uncle's eyes lit up and he waved to me when I retold the above story of Grandma's birthday party, and once again he sang all the words to all the verses. He is 90 years old and going strong. By the way, it was precious to see two uncles, an aunt, and my dad singing together with all the other friends and relatives. One uncle passed several years ago, and we received word that another uncle was passing away at that moment in a nearby town.
The uncle who missed our cousins' reunion has gone on to heaven, and the funeral was yesterday. There was peace. His living siblings all were able to see him before he died. God is good.
5/10/2017
The son of The Wanderer likes me to keep in touch. I text him after every visit with his mother. Last week he asked if I would record our next visit, and yesterday I set up my iPhone and videoed our time together. I have to say, The Wanderer is my favorite hospice patient. Today we didn't wander. Amazingly, she sat with me on the little sofa at the end of her hallway, and we talked about nothing. Her son knows that she makes little sense when she talks, and he finds it entertaining. So do I. You either laugh or cry, right? We had a beautiful time together talking and singing. One snippet of our conversation:
Wanderer: I'm trying to remember where I was. I've been to every places.
Me: Where have you been?
Wanderer: Why, I have to go to Doble, Aver, Over, and I did all of the stuff, too.
Me: Okay. Have you seen my dulcimer before?
Wanderer: Jehavahoo?
Me: Have you seen my dulcimer yet?
Wanderer: Your husband?
Me [strumming]: My husband built it.
Wanderer: Well, that's so beautiful that you held it. It's pretty.
Me: I'm glad you like it. Let's do a song. [sings "There's a Little Wheel a-Turnin' in My Heart"]
Wanderer: [whistles along until song finishes] That's a good one. All the places that you had there it was so hard.
Me: It wasn't hard.
Wanderer: There's so much you had to do.
Me: Oh, no. I like doing it. Don't you?
Wanderer: You do?
Me. I do!
Wanderer: Well, thank you.
The son of The Wanderer likes me to keep in touch. I text him after every visit with his mother. Last week he asked if I would record our next visit, and yesterday I set up my iPhone and videoed our time together. I have to say, The Wanderer is my favorite hospice patient. Today we didn't wander. Amazingly, she sat with me on the little sofa at the end of her hallway, and we talked about nothing. Her son knows that she makes little sense when she talks, and he finds it entertaining. So do I. You either laugh or cry, right? We had a beautiful time together talking and singing. One snippet of our conversation:
Wanderer: I'm trying to remember where I was. I've been to every places.
Me: Where have you been?
Wanderer: Why, I have to go to Doble, Aver, Over, and I did all of the stuff, too.
Me: Okay. Have you seen my dulcimer before?
Wanderer: Jehavahoo?
Me: Have you seen my dulcimer yet?
Wanderer: Your husband?
Me [strumming]: My husband built it.
Wanderer: Well, that's so beautiful that you held it. It's pretty.
Me: I'm glad you like it. Let's do a song. [sings "There's a Little Wheel a-Turnin' in My Heart"]
Wanderer: [whistles along until song finishes] That's a good one. All the places that you had there it was so hard.
Me: It wasn't hard.
Wanderer: There's so much you had to do.
Me: Oh, no. I like doing it. Don't you?
Wanderer: You do?
Me. I do!
Wanderer: Well, thank you.
5/9/2017
The curmudgeonly gal that I wrote about in my January 3 post has become my biggest fan. Every time I enter her house at Otterbein, she turns her chair so that she can see me. She always claps at the end of each song, and even though she sort of has a permanent scowl, she told me this week how much they all like me coming to play and sing for everyone at the facility.
The curmudgeonly gal that I wrote about in my January 3 post has become my biggest fan. Every time I enter her house at Otterbein, she turns her chair so that she can see me. She always claps at the end of each song, and even though she sort of has a permanent scowl, she told me this week how much they all like me coming to play and sing for everyone at the facility.
4/23/2017
My husband and I spent the last few days on the road. Friday night we stayed at my sister's house, and they were going to visit her father-in-law in the rehab unit of a local nursing home. She said, "Paula, it's too bad you didn't bring your ukulele. My father-in-law would love that." Of course, I replied, "I DID bring my ukulele!" I never leave home without it. When we arrived at his room, we were surprised to see that the room was filled with relatives. We sang several favorites, and everyone sang along, including the patient. I told my sister afterward that I didn't realize the family would be there; I hoped I didn't disturb the family's time together. She assured me that this is what happens: Families visit and share the latest news. After everything has been said, folks end up staring at each other with nothing to say. My songs brought them all together again. I believe that what she said was true. Several of them thanked me for making them all smile. I know the family, and they all sing beautifully. Harmony filled the room. All of us were part of an impromptu concert of our own making, and it was uplifting.
I say it often: I get more out of playing for folks than they do. I have patients who minister to me in ways that I could never minister to them.
One hospital patient years ago read me a poem that she wrote. She said she wanted to bless me the way I blessed her.
A hospice patient grabbed my hand and prayed for me and my music ministry. She died two days later.
Several noncommunicative patients have started singing with me as amazed family members or nursing staff looked on in incredulity.
I am the one who benefits from a life of volunteering with my music.
My husband and I spent the last few days on the road. Friday night we stayed at my sister's house, and they were going to visit her father-in-law in the rehab unit of a local nursing home. She said, "Paula, it's too bad you didn't bring your ukulele. My father-in-law would love that." Of course, I replied, "I DID bring my ukulele!" I never leave home without it. When we arrived at his room, we were surprised to see that the room was filled with relatives. We sang several favorites, and everyone sang along, including the patient. I told my sister afterward that I didn't realize the family would be there; I hoped I didn't disturb the family's time together. She assured me that this is what happens: Families visit and share the latest news. After everything has been said, folks end up staring at each other with nothing to say. My songs brought them all together again. I believe that what she said was true. Several of them thanked me for making them all smile. I know the family, and they all sing beautifully. Harmony filled the room. All of us were part of an impromptu concert of our own making, and it was uplifting.
I say it often: I get more out of playing for folks than they do. I have patients who minister to me in ways that I could never minister to them.
One hospital patient years ago read me a poem that she wrote. She said she wanted to bless me the way I blessed her.
A hospice patient grabbed my hand and prayed for me and my music ministry. She died two days later.
Several noncommunicative patients have started singing with me as amazed family members or nursing staff looked on in incredulity.
I am the one who benefits from a life of volunteering with my music.
3/30/2017
I find that as a hospice volunteer, I'm not only ministering to my assigned patients, but I'm also ministering to those around us. A few of my patients are well enough to sit in a common room where I can share the music with everyone in the facility who wants to listen. I make sure I tell the folks that I'm a volunteer from Hospice of Southwest Ohio, and <my patient> is the one who is allowing me to play and sing for everyone. This makes my patient feel special. These last weeks I've grown attached to some of these other folks as they join in by singing, asking questions, and telling stories.
One beautiful lady sings high harmony. She has a favorite song she likes to sing, and she shares it with me every chance she gets. She doesn't want our sing-along sessions to end.
One gentleman with Down's syndrome love to clap along and "aaaaa-ooooo" as we sing.
A sweet patient of mine told the group how she was in the VERY FIRST high school band in the town where she grew up. She played the flute. The rest of the group laughed when she said that her band director was a dictator. Her story opened up a discussion of music and how important it is for youngsters to learn music.
At Otterbein, several relatives come to have lunch with their loved ones. One daughter of a patient googles the songs I sing so that she can sing along with all the lyrics in front of her. This week a patient's wife smiled ear-to-ear and caught my eye to point to her husband moving to the music. I smiled back so broadly that my cheeks hurt. This man usually just sits like a lump.
I have a deep appreciation to all these folks who minister to me as I sing to their loved ones.
I find that as a hospice volunteer, I'm not only ministering to my assigned patients, but I'm also ministering to those around us. A few of my patients are well enough to sit in a common room where I can share the music with everyone in the facility who wants to listen. I make sure I tell the folks that I'm a volunteer from Hospice of Southwest Ohio, and <my patient> is the one who is allowing me to play and sing for everyone. This makes my patient feel special. These last weeks I've grown attached to some of these other folks as they join in by singing, asking questions, and telling stories.
One beautiful lady sings high harmony. She has a favorite song she likes to sing, and she shares it with me every chance she gets. She doesn't want our sing-along sessions to end.
One gentleman with Down's syndrome love to clap along and "aaaaa-ooooo" as we sing.
A sweet patient of mine told the group how she was in the VERY FIRST high school band in the town where she grew up. She played the flute. The rest of the group laughed when she said that her band director was a dictator. Her story opened up a discussion of music and how important it is for youngsters to learn music.
At Otterbein, several relatives come to have lunch with their loved ones. One daughter of a patient googles the songs I sing so that she can sing along with all the lyrics in front of her. This week a patient's wife smiled ear-to-ear and caught my eye to point to her husband moving to the music. I smiled back so broadly that my cheeks hurt. This man usually just sits like a lump.
I have a deep appreciation to all these folks who minister to me as I sing to their loved ones.
2/22/2017
It's amazing to me that I am still learning about relationships. We have all been told that listening is Number One when it comes to getting to know someone, but sometimes I find it difficult to be patient enough to listen when I meet a new elder patient. Sometimes my patients aren't communicative, after all, and some can't see or hear or speak well. But right now I have a few patients I'm sharing music with that I need to slow down for. This "patience with my patients" is totally worth the time it takes. I'm beginning to see these hospice patients as new friends.
This week one gentleman fell asleep as I played my mountain dulcimer. He is a hospice client, and he always answers my questions, but he answers them verrrrry slllllowllllly. He has to think about what he is going to say, It's tempting for me to assume that he doesn't hear me or can't answer, but I've learned to wait. He looked me in the eye and called me by name. I found out that he is very aware of his surroundings. He can hear, and he can speak. I have to listen closely because his speech is soft and slow. This lovely gentleman may look like he is asleep, but I have found that, at least in this instance, he is simply relaxing into the music.
I am getting to know him, too.
A lovely female patient is the same. She has to think a long time before answering my questions, but in time she says what is on her mind. What I adore about her is that she has figured out that on some songs I hold out the very last note of each verse and chorus, and she can sing along with those notes. I think she knows most of the songs, but they go too fast for her to sing along. But on that final note, I hear her humming right along! These folks are precious.
It's amazing to me that I am still learning about relationships. We have all been told that listening is Number One when it comes to getting to know someone, but sometimes I find it difficult to be patient enough to listen when I meet a new elder patient. Sometimes my patients aren't communicative, after all, and some can't see or hear or speak well. But right now I have a few patients I'm sharing music with that I need to slow down for. This "patience with my patients" is totally worth the time it takes. I'm beginning to see these hospice patients as new friends.
This week one gentleman fell asleep as I played my mountain dulcimer. He is a hospice client, and he always answers my questions, but he answers them verrrrry slllllowllllly. He has to think about what he is going to say, It's tempting for me to assume that he doesn't hear me or can't answer, but I've learned to wait. He looked me in the eye and called me by name. I found out that he is very aware of his surroundings. He can hear, and he can speak. I have to listen closely because his speech is soft and slow. This lovely gentleman may look like he is asleep, but I have found that, at least in this instance, he is simply relaxing into the music.
I am getting to know him, too.
A lovely female patient is the same. She has to think a long time before answering my questions, but in time she says what is on her mind. What I adore about her is that she has figured out that on some songs I hold out the very last note of each verse and chorus, and she can sing along with those notes. I think she knows most of the songs, but they go too fast for her to sing along. But on that final note, I hear her humming right along! These folks are precious.
1/31/2017
It's the end of my first month of volunteering here in Cincinnati, and I'm excited about what the future holds for me here.
Today The Wanderer sat down in her room for our entire visit. She had a guest, a male patient from down the hall. I was entertained immensely as the two of them held a completely nonsensical conversation that strangely seemed to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the lulls of the conversation, I sang with my ukulele, and they listened politely before delving right back into their crazy cozy banter. She was particularly enamored with my ukulele case, which is covered with stickers from all over the world. She said it was heavy. Her companion immediately took it and showed us how strong he was by lifting it and saying something about weightlifting 300-400 pounds. Delightful!
Another hospice patient doesn't say much. She replies to my questions with one-word answers. But her toothless grin and her laughter make my day.
Every Tuesday I sing and play music over lunch at a local Otterbein nursing facility. I take a different instrument every week, and the folks are getting used to my regular appearance. They have begun asking questions, and I'm beginning to get to know them, too. One of the ladies asked me to pray for all of them, as they don't get much attention. I DO pray for them intermittently, but she has reminded me that I should pray daily for the lonely and aged I serve. This has been a great start to a new year. I have 5 hospice patients I see weekly in 3 nursing homes, and I have the Tuesday lunch at Otterbein. I can't wait to see where this path leads!
It's the end of my first month of volunteering here in Cincinnati, and I'm excited about what the future holds for me here.
Today The Wanderer sat down in her room for our entire visit. She had a guest, a male patient from down the hall. I was entertained immensely as the two of them held a completely nonsensical conversation that strangely seemed to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the lulls of the conversation, I sang with my ukulele, and they listened politely before delving right back into their crazy cozy banter. She was particularly enamored with my ukulele case, which is covered with stickers from all over the world. She said it was heavy. Her companion immediately took it and showed us how strong he was by lifting it and saying something about weightlifting 300-400 pounds. Delightful!
Another hospice patient doesn't say much. She replies to my questions with one-word answers. But her toothless grin and her laughter make my day.
Every Tuesday I sing and play music over lunch at a local Otterbein nursing facility. I take a different instrument every week, and the folks are getting used to my regular appearance. They have begun asking questions, and I'm beginning to get to know them, too. One of the ladies asked me to pray for all of them, as they don't get much attention. I DO pray for them intermittently, but she has reminded me that I should pray daily for the lonely and aged I serve. This has been a great start to a new year. I have 5 hospice patients I see weekly in 3 nursing homes, and I have the Tuesday lunch at Otterbein. I can't wait to see where this path leads!
1/24/2017
I have a wanderer. She is a hospice patient at a local nursing facility. When I ring the doorbell to get access to the wing of her residence, she is always standing right on the other side of the door because she is curious about the new visitor. I introduce myself to her (she never remembers who I am), and the two of us roam the hallways. The Wanderer is very social. She talks all the time, but she usually makes little sense, even though she uses real words and talks in complete sentences. With this particular patient, I take an instrument I can roam with. When I sing a song, she gets quiet and listens, but she never looks me in the eye. When I finish, she says "that's beautiful" or "I love you". Then she continues to talk away.
Today The Wanderer made my day. As I played my Autoharp and sang, she whistled along with me, in tune and everything, on several songs. She was focused, and she even showed me her room. When I announced that I needed to leave to sing for other patients, she made me promise to come back. Of course I floated to my car.
I have a wanderer. She is a hospice patient at a local nursing facility. When I ring the doorbell to get access to the wing of her residence, she is always standing right on the other side of the door because she is curious about the new visitor. I introduce myself to her (she never remembers who I am), and the two of us roam the hallways. The Wanderer is very social. She talks all the time, but she usually makes little sense, even though she uses real words and talks in complete sentences. With this particular patient, I take an instrument I can roam with. When I sing a song, she gets quiet and listens, but she never looks me in the eye. When I finish, she says "that's beautiful" or "I love you". Then she continues to talk away.
Today The Wanderer made my day. As I played my Autoharp and sang, she whistled along with me, in tune and everything, on several songs. She was focused, and she even showed me her room. When I announced that I needed to leave to sing for other patients, she made me promise to come back. Of course I floated to my car.
1/3/2017
I told my husband when we moved here that I would get us unpacked and settled through December, and once January hits, I'm getting back into volunteering. Today was my first day playing music over lunch for the folks at the Otterbein facility in Loveland. It was good to be back singing for folks.
I took my ukulele and started out with "You Are My Sunshine". One lady made eye contact with me with a scowl. Of course I wanted to make nice, so I got close. She moved her hands as if to shoo me away, and said. "Go away!" Now, I've been doing this for 25 years or so; I was undaunted. I moved away from her because I never want to agitate or offend clients; I want to spread happiness. I continued to sing, and once I caught her eye, and she shook her fist at me. The other folks seemed to be enjoying the music, though. I concentrated on them. After about the third song in, she pounded on the table several times and said, "Well, clap for her!" Everyone then followed her instructions and clapped heartily for me. It seems I won her over.
I told my husband when we moved here that I would get us unpacked and settled through December, and once January hits, I'm getting back into volunteering. Today was my first day playing music over lunch for the folks at the Otterbein facility in Loveland. It was good to be back singing for folks.
I took my ukulele and started out with "You Are My Sunshine". One lady made eye contact with me with a scowl. Of course I wanted to make nice, so I got close. She moved her hands as if to shoo me away, and said. "Go away!" Now, I've been doing this for 25 years or so; I was undaunted. I moved away from her because I never want to agitate or offend clients; I want to spread happiness. I continued to sing, and once I caught her eye, and she shook her fist at me. The other folks seemed to be enjoying the music, though. I concentrated on them. After about the third song in, she pounded on the table several times and said, "Well, clap for her!" Everyone then followed her instructions and clapped heartily for me. It seems I won her over.
11/2/2016
Hello, friends! Herb and I have just moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and I'm excited about a new-to-us house and community. I'm sure the musical opportunities here are endless. Right now my musical calendar is blank, but check back here often, because I will share my thoughts here, especially concerning the elderly and hospice patients I'm planning to minister to. NOTE: I am not a certified music therapist, but I have seen a lot in my many years of singing for folks.
Hello, friends! Herb and I have just moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and I'm excited about a new-to-us house and community. I'm sure the musical opportunities here are endless. Right now my musical calendar is blank, but check back here often, because I will share my thoughts here, especially concerning the elderly and hospice patients I'm planning to minister to. NOTE: I am not a certified music therapist, but I have seen a lot in my many years of singing for folks.