Heart to Heart

Can you recall a time when hearing a familiar song touched your heart so immediately, and so completely, that before the wall of your defenses could realize what’s happening, you felt a firm tug in your heart and your eyes began to well with tears?

This is my experience every time I hear Harry Belafonte’s version of the song “Scarlet Ribbons”, A song about a child’s prayer for, and a father’s longing to provide, the lovely scarlet ribbons. This song transports me to my childhood home in Maine. I hear and see my father singing this very song while gently playing his acoustic guitar. He plays and sings with a sincerity and musical honesty that is beyond words. This visceral image is entwined with my own deep connection to music, then and now, a feeling of loving and being loved, a sense that all I’ve ever needed is right here, alive in this musical moment.

About 18 months ago, I was offered an opportunity to bring music and movement to patients with dementia. Dementia is a chronic or persistent disorder of the mental processes caused by brain disease or injury and marked by memory disorders, personality changes, and impaired reasoning. There is no known cure for dementia. It is progressive and fatal. Dementia is profoundly challenging for those diagnosed with the disorder as well as their family and loved ones. Yet, I have found individuals living with this disorder are remarkably responsive to rhythm and music, especially songs that they know and love. It is amazing how folks who may not remember their own son or daughter’s name can remember the lyrics to a song from their past that is still alive for them. Music has the power to unlock memories that are otherwise inaccessible, to connect those who may feel disconnected, and to promote a sense of well-being, comfort, and joyful self-expression.

Believing that the Dalcroze approach is innately adaptable and uniquely effective in a wide variety of applications and settings, I approached my new music and movement population with courage and conviction. I was determined to find a way to reach them. As a Dalcroze teacher for over 25 years, I have worked with students of all ages and varying levels of experience, mostly in music schools, for the purpose of music education. This is the first time I have brought my skills as a Dalcroze teacher to a setting which, in many ways, is a music therapy setting. I have developed a song and rhythm-based program which has been very well received. Currently, I am working in two different locations: Aviv Centers for Living in Peabody, Massachusetts and Avita, an assisted living, memory care facility in Newburyport, MA.

Why am I drawn to this work? There are two reasons: one personal, one professional. The professional reason is that over the last five years or so, I have been very inspired by Dalcroze master teacher Lisa Parker’s work with senior citizens. I was touched by attending her classes and demonstrations which are creative, artfully constructed, and endlessly inventive. She offers weekly classes for seniors that are joyful and social. They offer a unique opportunity for seniors to connect their bodies, minds, hearts, and souls through music. I owe a great deal to Lisa and have incorporated many of her ideas into my work, as well as developed my own.

The personal reason I am drawn to this work is my experience with my father in his last years. Throughout my life, the heart of our relationship was always music and it became even more so toward the end of his days. All of my visits involved playing for him on the piano and encouraging him to sing along with me. His arthritic hands made playing the guitar impossible. When even his singing voice had failed him, he would wheel his wheelchair over to the piano and listen intently. One time, unexpectedly, a song brought him to tears; it had reminded him of how he had fallen in love with my mother. He missed her terribly since her passing. When my Dad’s own time came, I managed to arrive by his hospital bedside to hold his hand and sing a few of his favorite songs one last time. Although he was heavily sedated, I knew somehow he heard me and appreciated this parting musical gesture.

In my groups at Aviv and Avita, I have found numerous new “relatives” who have claimed me as much as I have claimed them. One woman asked, “Are you my niece? Do you belong to me?” “I belong to all of you,” I answered without hesitation. It is deeply rewarding to connect with individuals at the point in their lives when a kind word, a smile, and a song, can mean the world to them.

When I first started my sessions at Aviv, there was a woman who would perk up every time I went over to the piano. Her interest evolved over several months. One day as I went to play, she said in a lively voice, “I could play a song. Call out a tune and I can play it.” “So you like to play the piano, too?“ I asked. “Yeah, yeah, call out a tune,” she said inviting anyone in the group to respond. At this point, she started to rise from her seat. I said, “How about if you play at the end of the session?” Remembering our exchange, when the session ended I invited her to the piano. Without hesitation, she walked over and placed her hands on the keyboard. At first, the sounds were unintelligible, but gradually a shape and form begin to emerge. The activities director looked at me in awe saying, “She has never done this before. We never knew she could play the piano.” It was a magical moment.

Another magical moment involved a woman who was often rather gruff and difficult to engage. On a morning when she was particularly irritable and decided to sit outside the circle of participants, I took note of her mood and gave her space. The last activity was a singing and drumming activity focused around Harry Belafonte’s recording of “Jamaican Farewell”. To my surprise, assisted by her walker, she began to slowly move toward us in order to join the group. To my sheer amazement, she traveled right into the middle of the circle and began to dance with her walker. She seemed to be totally transformed by the music. The lively rhythms of Harry Belafonte’s Calypso music literally moved her.
Let me speak candidly and say right up front that working with individuals with dementia is a bitter-sweet journey. You will see residents come alive through the joy of music and movement, but you will also witness their inevitable decline.

One gentleman, who was always so talkative and enthusiastic, withdrew more and more as his dementia progressed. Despite his loss in ability, his eyes still light up, and his voice joins in, whenever we sing “Edelweiss” or another of his favorite songs. As dementia increasingly erodes the fabric of their lives as they once knew them, music emerges as a lifeline to essential qualities. Music in these settings can be:

• a comforter and soothing elixir
• a key to unlocking memories
• an energizer
• a means for connection
• a mode of self- expression
• a source of joy
• a vehicle for love

In the sessions I am currently leading, the participants are seated as many are in wheelchairs or have limited mobility. As I plan my music and movement sessions with the seniors with dementia, I ask myself the following questions:

• What songs do they know and love? (Choosing songs that you enjoy enables you to be connected and find joy in the musical material you share with participants.)
• What can they do easily?
• What could they do with preparation and a bit of effort?
• How can they be more engaged physically?
• How can they be encouraged to be more interactive with me and with each other?
• How can they be more involved creatively?
• What song or activity did they particularly respond to in the last session? Should we revisit or expand this activity?

In my music and movement work with dementia patients, I have developed a song-based program with the following general sequence:

Lesson Sections:

1. Prelude
2. Greetings around the circle
3. Warm Up
4. Loch Lomond- Traditional song w/ Movements
5. Opening Activity
6. Name that Tune/Sing-A-Long
7. Drumming Activities
8. Ritual Closing Activity