Originally Posted by
Polecat
I work musically with both the geriatric and mentally handicapped (it's part of how I earn my living)
It never ceases to amaze me how someone who cannot remember what they had for lunch half an hour ago is able to sing all eight or ten verses of a german folk song word perfect, and even, on occasion, sing a harmony part to boot! Just singing together creates not only a sense of community (important in an old peoples' home, where very few residents are there of their own volition and feel isolated among a group of strangers), but also underlines the sense of one's own identity, which is increasingly lost with advancing dementia.
Therapeutic music can sometimes literally have magical results - I regularly engage in "Musical dialogs" with residents and clients; if they play an instrument, with that and either mandolin or recorder, if not, I give them a frame drum and a beater and accompany them on the recorder. It is surprising where such free improvised sessions can lead. I remember one resident who was severely disabled by a childhood bout of poliomyelitis, both mentally and physically - in his sixties, he was unable to walk without a walker and afflicted with an intense tremor which affected his whole body. Nonetheless, he was of a remarkably sunny disposition and enjoyed being present at group singing sessions, although he was unable to participate. One day, for whatever reason, I asked him if he would like to join in our "giving a concert for one another" (my term for musical dialog in a group situation). Of course he wanted to so I gave him a frame drum and a beater, and grabbed a recorder. What ensued was the most apocalyptic, arythmic, thunderous cacophany imaginable, and I switched my descant recorder for a sopranino in order just to be heard over the din. I struggled to find a beat in his beating, and somehow "felt" a sort of 2/4 structure, which I tried to emphasise, playing simple arpeggios and "march figures" - my "partner" promptly stopped his chaotic cacophany and slipped into a regular beat so that we were accompanying one another in a truly musical way. After several minutes we drew to a mutual close - I had tears in my eyes and he a smile that reached from one side of the room to the other. Obviously, the physical and neurological damage wrought by the polio cannot be cured, either by medical or musical means, but the effects of having to live in a body and with a mind as damaged as his is can be affected positively by the simple act of beating a drum and blowing into a recorder, and, most important of all, listening to one another.
It doesn't always work out as well as the scenario I've described, but it nearly always produces some sort of a result, and is certainly a worthwhile endeavour.
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