Harry Vayo: Blog

As I pulled into Mrs R’s driveway, I sensed there was a problem. Turning to my dulcimer in the back seat, I noticed the absence of a bulge that should have been in the side pocket of the instrument case. Where was my hammer pouch? I conducted a quick, thorough, but fruitless search of the back seat area. I must have left it at home, a 45 minute drive away. How can I play without my hammers? Should I discreetly back out of the driveway, call Mrs R’s daughter & reschedule? Too late: her daughter Viola had just opened the front door & was standing on the ramp, an expectant smile on her face. “She’s been asking about you all week & is so looking forward to your music.” Her bedridden mother turned her face toward me as I entered her room, her eyes shining expressively as I began to set up my instrument, hoping my discomfort didn't show.
 
It is possible to play the dulcimer by plucking the strings directly with the fingers. I had done it occasionally [...]

 
“I’m not sure if Suzanne will like the music,” responded the friendly but nervous lady when I asked if she’d like me to play. Despite her dementia and her 102 years, Suzanne had a strong will and domineering presence. Diplomatically, I crossed to Suzanne’s side of the room, where she was busy arranging and rearranging the contents of a drawer. I introduced myself, said I would be playing some relaxing music for her roommate and that she was welcome to listen. At the sound of my voice she briefly turned her head part way toward me but quickly returned to her task. Either she didn’t understand my presence or did not deem my statement worthy of a response.
 
In any case, I set up my dulcimer and began playing the old standard “When I Grow Too Old to Dream.” After several minutes, and much to her roommate’s relief, Suzanne wheeled out of the room but remained close by in the hall. I played a few more tunes for her roommate, concluding [...]

Ursula was seated in her wheelchair when I arrived at her room. Her back was turned, her head downcast, her body almost motionless. Her TV and radio were off, which is quite unusual in a nursing home. At first she didn’t respond to my greeting, so I walked closer and stood where I could see her profile. Her facial expression was lax without seeming relaxed, and her eyes appeared slightly moist. When I asked if she’d like some music she didn’t look at me, but nodded slightly and mumbled a response that I took to be yes.
 
As a CMP I try to observe the effects of my music on my listener, but as she was facing the wall this wasn’t possible. Turning her chair around would have been presumptuous and intrusive, so I played for her as she was.  To validate her feelings and try to meet her where she was emotionally, I played gentle, soothing melodies with just a hint of sadness or yearning, such as “Danny Boy” and “Red is the Rose.” No response [...]

Mr T, an assisted living center resident with dementia, had been a jazz musician in his younger years. The last musician I had played for as a Certified Music Practitioner was not only rather gruff, but had actually pulled out an electronic tuner to make sure my dulcimer was in tune (Fortunately it was)! Mr T dispelled my mild anxiety by greeting me amiably in the common area and shaking my hand. Little did I know, as he settled into a chair, that I was in for a test of another sort.
 
As a musician, Mr T was intrigued by my dulcimer, asking me numerous questions about the instrument’s origin, tuning, typical repertoire, and so on. After I had played “Satin Doll”, “Stardust”, and a few other standard tunes, he announced his assessment: “Well son, you’re pretty good on that thing, but it’s an awful quiet instrument. I can’t promise you anything, but the band might be able to use you now and then on a few numbers. We’re [...]

As I do once a month, I arrived at the nursing home early in the evening to play soothing dulcimer music for some of the residents. After wheeling my gear into the building, I checked in at the office to receive my list of residents to play for. Next to one gentleman’s name was a note: "please play first". When I arrived, Mr L was seated in a wheelchair, a plastic oxygen line in place beneath his nose; and his wife was at his side. I surmised that the request to play for him first was because Mrs L wanted to hear me before she went home. I introduced myself, and Mrs L said that they had heard about me from the nursing home staff and were looking forward to hearing me. “Let me help you into a more comfortable chair”, she said to her husband. This was done with some difficulty, as Mr L had little muscular strength as well as difficulty breathing. He moaned softly several times during the couple of minutes it took to get him situated.
 
By the time he was seated [...]