There are two places in Crown Heights, Brooklyn where I play on a regular basis. They were the first facilities to call me back to work after the pandemic. Although I had moved from NYC in early 2021 to the Hudson Valley, over 125 miles away, I was ecstatic to get back to them. It had been two long awful years of no festivities and no work anywhere. I never thought they’d resume live music programs. To be allowed to work again was like coming out of wartime.
On the face of it, it was logistically insane to resume working in these places, given how far from my new home they are. Almost a three hour drive in each direction. But I LOVE this work, and had missed it terribly.
I’m hired to stroll through the facilities. They pay me for 2.5 hours, but I am always there for at least 4.
I guide myself around these enormous multi level Nursing and Rehab Centers with hundreds of residents on each floor. I’m not going to sugarcoat this: you do see a lot of misery. This is not Assisted Living – these are state run Medicaid nursing homes in what has traditionally been a blighted neighborhood.
Diabetes is off the charts. I see more amputees in these two places than all my other facilities combined. The residents are not “old” either. Many of them are still in their 50’s and 60’s. Diabetes, stroke, heart disease and other illnesses put them in a nursing home for life, because their medical needs are beyond what a group home can accommodate.
I walk into the room with usually two beds, and I ask if they’d like some music, if they’d like to hear a song today. If they are non verbal, unresponsive but awake, I may play something soft like “What a Wonderful World”. Often they just want some company for a few minutes. I may sing “Dream A Little Dream” “I Can See Clearly Now” or “How Sweet It Is” or “Summer Breeze” or “Hey Good Lookin’”. I have learned a few songs in Spanish, a few Jamaican tunes and Bob Marley and Belafonte always go over well. This neighborhood is a West Indian enclave, and everyone knows all the songs from all over the islands. A folk song I’m especially fond of is “Trinidad is the Land of Calypso”. Especially with Trinidadians in the house!
Watch out when the aides and family members start singing, dancing and swaying. All of a sudden we have a PARTY! People all around me start beating out exotic rhythms, nurses start harmonizing and I feel transported to the sunshine islands myself for a few moments.
This is the pure joy that awaits you if you can just light that match that sets the room alight. You may think you “don’t play that kind of music”- but you will find something that does the trick! Upbeat American soul and pop, even country or folk will work just as well for an impromptu musical bonfire.
It just needs to be familiar and rhythmic, delivered with spirit.
Then you go to the next room. They may shoo you away. They may be on the phone or glued to the TV. Sometimes they don’t want music but they want to talk. Several times residents have needed to express grief over a roommate that passed. There seems to be no counseling, no emotional processing in place for the ahem...turnovers.
“They just took her away last night. I heard her die. Now they have a new person moving in already!”
“Did any one come and speak to you about it?” I may ask. “No, they didn’t tell me nothing. You’re the first person I’m talking to” is the response I’ve heard now on at least three occasions.
Sometimes they want to talk about that they are dying. One woman, for months, insisted on exclaiming to me over and over: “I feel like I’m dying. Am I going to die? I know I’m going to die!”
She never wanted to hear music, this was her singular refrain. She never left her bed, opened the curtains or even had the TV on. One day I saw her lo and behold, in the dining room and she had her hair dyed red. I complimented her and we talked about hair color. Ever since, she lets me play a song for her and we share a pleasant few minutes. I’ve even seen her smile.
Another woman, every time I ask how she is doing she answers: “Fine, honey just one problem, I’m dying! I know I’m gonna die!”
You don’t have to anguish over how to respond. Hear them. Make eye contact. Learn their name. Be present.
Play them a song.
I personally do not know of anyone who is doing more beautiful, righteous, creatively loving work than you, Bibi Farber. That's the honest to god truth, and I bet very few people likewise can say they personally know someone who could fill your shoes. There's a special place in bunny heaven waiting for you, my dear. :-)
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️