The most fragile of audiences gathered mid-afternoon. Some came in wheelchairs. Nurses rolled others into the room in bed-like reclining chairs. Some were alert, others dozed quietly.
The Yesterukes were at their best, playing songs they hoped would tap memories for these residents. A few in the audience sang, another conducted from the back of the room. And one sweet faced lady clapped in rhythm with our music.
Outside the glassed-in activity room, staff stopped to watch and listen. One man even took a break from his sweeping to do a little dancing with his broom. Family members there to visit loved ones came out to see what was happening and lingered a bit, smiling when they returned to the room they were visiting.
And when the program was done, the Yesterukes in their blue shirts, spent some time with the residents, lingering long enough to hold a hand or touch a shoulder, as they listened and chatted. The last comment heard was a quiet voice saying, "I hope you'll be back again soon."
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This post made me feel good and made me recall a similar time when I was visiting my mother-in-law and participated in the audience with her and others. That time it was only one man, entertaining, talking, and interspersing with snippets of songs. Still I could see when a song would bring recognition or fond memories to someone.
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