This was Gregory and my favorite piece: Chopin's Ballad No.1 Op 23. (You can click to listen below.)
Many years ago Gregory became enthralled with the piece and learned one page, doubting that he would be able to do more. I encouraged him to at least try to add a little bit at a time. Over five years, Gregory at his black, shiny, Yamaha grand piano and with me lying on the couch listening to him practice and practice and practice, he proceeded to learn the entire piece.
He would ask, "Aren't you bored with hearing me make so many mistakes (also called clams)?" My answer was always, "Never!" I used to tell people that to me the greatest feeling of home was hearing Gregory's piano music singing, dancing, and flowing through our house.
Eventually Gregory went on to perform the piece for our Gay Family at Chuck and John's house in Racine, Wi at the "First Annual Musicale," where family members performed, played piano, recited poetry, etc.
Not having much talent in this way and joined by Dominic, we created trays to carry around our necks and put on paper tiaras of sorts to recreate the image of a "Cigar Girl" from days earlier, who would circulate at the 50's supper club selling cigars and cigarettes. During intermission we distributed popcorn, boxes of candy, and soda.
When it was Gregory's turn to perform I had to leave the room. I was so nervous for him. He had a fear of performing for others that stemmed from his childhood. First, his mother Helen, while responsible for giving him this life long gift, also was the typical demanding, strict, piano practice enforcing mother. At one point Gregory, during college, stopped playing because of how badly his mom had "loaded" the piano experience.
While I cannot take all the credit for helping him return to the black and whites, I will take some. But I diverge, the reason I was so nervous was that Gregory always talked about how when during his childhood recitals he would be so relieved that the piece was almost over, he would inadvertently end it by hitting a glaringly wrong note in the last few bars.
You need to know that Ballad No.1 is a very athletic piece, played by people like Arturo Rubinstein, Vladimir Horowitz, and Daniel Barenboim for an encore at Carnegie Hall! At the "Musicale" he played the piece flawlessly to a standing ovation from the group. You should have seen his face!
After Gregory slowly became unable to play piano anymore, he decided that it was time to sell it. If he couldn't play it well, why not let someone who could, have it. We found a young composer, recently returned from LA who purchased the piano after sitting in our home and practicing and falling in love with the piano.
Gregory in his usual calm, intelligent, loving optimistic way was not upset at seeing the piano leave our home. He was happy about its new home and he commented: "I can listen to as much music as I would like on CDs and that make me happy."
Share Chopin's Ballad No.1 Op 23 with me:
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Not A Day Goes By
Two versions of "Not a Day Goes By."
A more positive version that can describe how Gregory and my love has continued to grow over the last forty years. I love Gregory more each day than I did the day before.
And now he is slowly continuing to leave me with this version:
A more positive version that can describe how Gregory and my love has continued to grow over the last forty years. I love Gregory more each day than I did the day before.
And now he is slowly continuing to leave me with this version:
Friday, August 14, 2015
Not A Day Goes By
I just got home after spending the entire day with Gregory. Manny was on a religious leave so I helped Gregory with lunch, shaving, brushing his teeth, and napping.
Then we exercised to "Abba" and we just smiled and laughed through the entire session. Got more accomplished using music and calling it dancing: no exercise, no stretching, no pushups, no jumping jacks; just plain old Disco Dancing.
Then we watched some TV, I ran out and got some Sushi as a treat (and as a break in the day for me) which Gregory really enjoyed for the first time in some 20 months.
Next a little more napping, I reclined his wheel chair and napped also on his bed.
Next was dinner and finally parking him in front of "The Wizzard of Oz" and taking my leave until tomorrow morning.
Now home and coming down from an engaged, love filled, hectic day; I didn't need to do this to myself but the song came across my Facebook, by Sondheim as sung by Bernadette Peters. So now, cry a few tears with me.
NOT A DAY GOES BY
Not a day goes by,
Not a single day
But you're somewhere a part of my life
And it looks like you'll stay.
As the days go by,
I keep thinking, "When does it end?
Where 's the day I'll have started forgetting?"
But I just go on
Thinking and sweating
And cursing and crying
And turning and reaching
And waking and dying
And no,
Not a day goes by,
Not a blessed day.
But you're still somewhere part of my life
And you won't go away.
So there's hell to pay.
And until I die
I'll die day after day
After day after day
After day after day
After day
Till the days go by
Till the days go by
Till the days go by
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/stephen-sondheim/not-a-day-goes-by-lyrics/#RCfZZgwsTyly6Ohd.99
Then we exercised to "Abba" and we just smiled and laughed through the entire session. Got more accomplished using music and calling it dancing: no exercise, no stretching, no pushups, no jumping jacks; just plain old Disco Dancing.
Then we watched some TV, I ran out and got some Sushi as a treat (and as a break in the day for me) which Gregory really enjoyed for the first time in some 20 months.
Next a little more napping, I reclined his wheel chair and napped also on his bed.
Next was dinner and finally parking him in front of "The Wizzard of Oz" and taking my leave until tomorrow morning.
Now home and coming down from an engaged, love filled, hectic day; I didn't need to do this to myself but the song came across my Facebook, by Sondheim as sung by Bernadette Peters. So now, cry a few tears with me.
NOT A DAY GOES BY
Not a day goes by,
Not a single day
But you're somewhere a part of my life
And it looks like you'll stay.
As the days go by,
I keep thinking, "When does it end?
Where 's the day I'll have started forgetting?"
But I just go on
Thinking and sweating
And cursing and crying
And turning and reaching
And waking and dying
And no,
Not a day goes by,
Not a blessed day.
But you're still somewhere part of my life
And you won't go away.
So there's hell to pay.
And until I die
I'll die day after day
After day after day
After day after day
After day
Till the days go by
Till the days go by
Till the days go by
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/stephen-sondheim/not-a-day-goes-by-lyrics/#RCfZZgwsTyly6Ohd.99
Monday, August 10, 2015
Pedro Macedo Camacho: Documentary Music Composer
The results are in! "Alzheimer's: A Love Story" has been chosen as the best LGBTQ short at the Rhode Island International Film Festival, and was also awarded the Alternative Spirit Award! I was lucky enough to be able to represent our film at the festival, but I wish we all could have been there- Monica Maria Bess Petruzzelli, Riani Singgih, Amanda Le, Pedro Macedo Camacho, Gregory Maire, Michael Horvich, these awards belong to all of us, and I can't put into words how lucky I was and still am to be a part of this team! Now on to the next festival!!
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Keith Jarrett
Listen to Keith Jarrett play "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" while you read this post.
By now a number of years ago, as Gregory's Dementia/Alzheimer's was getting worse and fairly quickly, dinner time would prove to be a difficult time for Gregory and me. For him to figure out how to navigate the food on his dinner plate and in the beginning of this new loss for me, losing my patience with him.
On one particularly difficult night, I do not remember all the details, but I was not only impatient but also mean. I yelled at Gregory for not knowing how to use his fork and for sitting there staring at his plate. I encouraged him to eat but he was really having difficulties. I grabbed the fork and began feeding him. But not with love. With anger and saying something like, "OK then I guess I am just going to have to feed you like a baby!"
Can you imagine how I feel now remembering back and writing this. In some ways, writing it as an apology to Gregory. Now, at Lieberman, he is unable to feed himself and I will help him to eat dinner (or lunch.) Now I do it with love, and care, and patience. As I carefully wait for him to have finished his chewing I bring the next portion to his mouth announcing what I am offering: "Here is a bite of roast beef now." "Here is some delicious mashed potatoes." "Mmmm, this creamed spinach is one of your favorites." I repeat my monologue (or is it a dialogue?) with each bite. Sometimes I'll just say, "Ready?" or "OK?" or "Do you want more?"
Several times, at Lieberman, I have talked to Gregory about how sorry I am about some of the times I was mean before and I might cry a little. While he does not have much language, I think he understands what I am saying and I know that he accepts my apology.
The reason for the Keith Jarrett above is that we used to listen to music at dinner time to make the evening more pleasant and to help cover the fact that conversations were no longer possible unless they were one-sided coming from me. The music made for a mutually enjoyable experience. Keith Jarrett is one of our favorites.
After one particularly difficult blow up, Gregory and I sat quietly through the rest of dinner, tears running down my face, Gregory suffering quietly as well, while Jarrett's Köln Concerts was playing. That piece, if you are not familiar with it, is somewhat noisy, not really melodic, but beautifully strong and emotionally played by Jarrett with his moaning and breathing heavy showing up behind the music. He puts his entire self into the performance.
When the piece ended, Gregory said to me, "That was perfect for our situation. Wasn't it?" At that we were able to "make up" and hug and get on with our life. We were both always good at apologizing well and picking up our love again as we continued doing the best we could do with a horrible situation: Alzheimer's Disease!
In some ways, the more I listen to Köln, I think it would be great background music for the movie of Gregory and my life.
By now a number of years ago, as Gregory's Dementia/Alzheimer's was getting worse and fairly quickly, dinner time would prove to be a difficult time for Gregory and me. For him to figure out how to navigate the food on his dinner plate and in the beginning of this new loss for me, losing my patience with him.
On one particularly difficult night, I do not remember all the details, but I was not only impatient but also mean. I yelled at Gregory for not knowing how to use his fork and for sitting there staring at his plate. I encouraged him to eat but he was really having difficulties. I grabbed the fork and began feeding him. But not with love. With anger and saying something like, "OK then I guess I am just going to have to feed you like a baby!"
Can you imagine how I feel now remembering back and writing this. In some ways, writing it as an apology to Gregory. Now, at Lieberman, he is unable to feed himself and I will help him to eat dinner (or lunch.) Now I do it with love, and care, and patience. As I carefully wait for him to have finished his chewing I bring the next portion to his mouth announcing what I am offering: "Here is a bite of roast beef now." "Here is some delicious mashed potatoes." "Mmmm, this creamed spinach is one of your favorites." I repeat my monologue (or is it a dialogue?) with each bite. Sometimes I'll just say, "Ready?" or "OK?" or "Do you want more?"
Several times, at Lieberman, I have talked to Gregory about how sorry I am about some of the times I was mean before and I might cry a little. While he does not have much language, I think he understands what I am saying and I know that he accepts my apology.
The reason for the Keith Jarrett above is that we used to listen to music at dinner time to make the evening more pleasant and to help cover the fact that conversations were no longer possible unless they were one-sided coming from me. The music made for a mutually enjoyable experience. Keith Jarrett is one of our favorites.
After one particularly difficult blow up, Gregory and I sat quietly through the rest of dinner, tears running down my face, Gregory suffering quietly as well, while Jarrett's Köln Concerts was playing. That piece, if you are not familiar with it, is somewhat noisy, not really melodic, but beautifully strong and emotionally played by Jarrett with his moaning and breathing heavy showing up behind the music. He puts his entire self into the performance.
When the piece ended, Gregory said to me, "That was perfect for our situation. Wasn't it?" At that we were able to "make up" and hug and get on with our life. We were both always good at apologizing well and picking up our love again as we continued doing the best we could do with a horrible situation: Alzheimer's Disease!
In some ways, the more I listen to Köln, I think it would be great background music for the movie of Gregory and my life.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Today at Lieberman
Yesterday I made a Rhubarb pie for Gregory.
Today, at Sunday's Entertainment, a man named Michael played his accordion and then the piano. Here are a few photos and a movie clip. Watch for a surprise ending on the movie.
The Rhubarb Pie
Gregory listening to Chopin at today's Sunday Entertainment
Gregory enjoying the accordion player at todays Sunday Entertainment.
Watch for the surprise ending.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
Grieving The Loss of Music
Kate, my blogger friend from Australia just posted a piece about her gradual loss of her musical knowledge. Click here to read her post. Opens in a new window. It is a sad piece in which she grieves the loss. I wrote the following in reply:
Oh Kate. My heart aches with you and for me as I remember Gregory's losses with music. He was close to a concert pianist with pieces like Ballad #43 from Chopin. This is an athletic piece, with the likes of Horowitz playing as an encore. It took G only five years to master this piece and I enjoyed every note (and clunker) lying on the sofa nearby. When we sold the grand piano that adorned and filled our living room, I cried, Gregory remarked "At least I can still listen to my CDs and have more music than I know what to do with."
And music continues to be such an important part of his (our) life. It brings him peace and at times tears of beauty. He can no longer play and no longer knows his Bach from his Beethoven but he is happy and enjoys his music so much. We hold hands and listen to Chopin (among others) and do not need words. Other times he loves being "under his headphones" and disappearing into the music.
As for your husband, be grateful but do not be sorry for him. It is your path but he has, from his heart, chosen to walk it with you. If that is not what love is all about than I do not know love. I am sure he would have it no other way! It is what he must do. In a joyful way "carried on the shoulders of sorrow," you are allowing him to do what he must!
I am sure none of us would have ordered it this way but we do have the choice: lie down and die or hunker down and keep going the best we can! Not really knowing you as a dear friend, I none the less can honestly say, "Kate, I love you and send you positive, healing emerges every day!"
Fondly,
Michael
Oh Kate. My heart aches with you and for me as I remember Gregory's losses with music. He was close to a concert pianist with pieces like Ballad #43 from Chopin. This is an athletic piece, with the likes of Horowitz playing as an encore. It took G only five years to master this piece and I enjoyed every note (and clunker) lying on the sofa nearby. When we sold the grand piano that adorned and filled our living room, I cried, Gregory remarked "At least I can still listen to my CDs and have more music than I know what to do with."
And music continues to be such an important part of his (our) life. It brings him peace and at times tears of beauty. He can no longer play and no longer knows his Bach from his Beethoven but he is happy and enjoys his music so much. We hold hands and listen to Chopin (among others) and do not need words. Other times he loves being "under his headphones" and disappearing into the music.
As for your husband, be grateful but do not be sorry for him. It is your path but he has, from his heart, chosen to walk it with you. If that is not what love is all about than I do not know love. I am sure he would have it no other way! It is what he must do. In a joyful way "carried on the shoulders of sorrow," you are allowing him to do what he must!
I am sure none of us would have ordered it this way but we do have the choice: lie down and die or hunker down and keep going the best we can! Not really knowing you as a dear friend, I none the less can honestly say, "Kate, I love you and send you positive, healing emerges every day!"
Fondly,
Michael
Monday, June 15, 2015
Dedicated to My Love for Gregory
Did you miss it? Here's the video that everyone's talking about: 'God Only Knows' by pretty much every single musician you’ve ever heard of.
Posted by BBC Three on Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Glitter and Be Gay
Gregory's favorite pieces. From Candide. Will lighten you day.
Glitter and be gay,
That's the part I play;
Here I am in Paris, France,
Forced to bend my soul
To a sordid role,
That's the part I play;
Here I am in Paris, France,
Forced to bend my soul
To a sordid role,
Victimized by bitter, bitter circumstance.
Alas for me! Had I remained
Beside my lady mother,
My virtue had remained unstained
Until my maiden hand was gained
By some Grand Duke or other.
Ah, 'twas not to be;
Harsh necessity
Brought me to this gilded cage.
Born to higher things,
Here I droop my wings,
Ah! Singing of a sorrow nothing can assuage.
And yet of course I rather like to revel,
Ha ha!
I have no strong objection to champagne,
Ha ha!
My wardrobe is expensive as the devil,
Ha ha!
Alas for me! Had I remained
Beside my lady mother,
My virtue had remained unstained
Until my maiden hand was gained
By some Grand Duke or other.
Ah, 'twas not to be;
Harsh necessity
Brought me to this gilded cage.
Born to higher things,
Here I droop my wings,
Ah! Singing of a sorrow nothing can assuage.
And yet of course I rather like to revel,
Ha ha!
I have no strong objection to champagne,
Ha ha!
My wardrobe is expensive as the devil,
Ha ha!
Perhaps it is ignoble to complain...
Enough, enough
Of being basely tearful!
I'll show my noble stuff
By being bright and cheerful!
Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha!
Pearls and ruby rings...
Ah, how can worldly things
Take the place of honor lost?
Can they compensate
For my fallen state,
Purchased as they were at such an awful cost?
Bracelets...lavalieres
Can they dry my tears?
Can they blind my eyes to shame?
Can the brightest brooch
Shield me from reproach?
Can the purest diamond purify my name?
And yet of course these trinkets are endearing,
Ha ha!
I'm oh, so glad my sapphire is a star,
Ha ha!
I rather like a twenty-carat earring,
Ha ha!
If I'm not pure, at least my jewels are!
Enough! Enough!
I'll take their diamond necklace
And show my noble stuff
By being gay and reckless!
Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha!
Observe how bravely I conceal
The dreadful, dreadful shame I feel.
Ha ha ha ha!
Enough, enough
Of being basely tearful!
I'll show my noble stuff
By being bright and cheerful!
Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha!
Pearls and ruby rings...
Ah, how can worldly things
Take the place of honor lost?
Can they compensate
For my fallen state,
Purchased as they were at such an awful cost?
Bracelets...lavalieres
Can they dry my tears?
Can they blind my eyes to shame?
Can the brightest brooch
Shield me from reproach?
Can the purest diamond purify my name?
And yet of course these trinkets are endearing,
Ha ha!
I'm oh, so glad my sapphire is a star,
Ha ha!
I rather like a twenty-carat earring,
Ha ha!
If I'm not pure, at least my jewels are!
Enough! Enough!
I'll take their diamond necklace
And show my noble stuff
By being gay and reckless!
Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha!
Observe how bravely I conceal
The dreadful, dreadful shame I feel.
Ha ha ha ha!
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Lieberman Sunday
Today at Lieberman Entertainment Sunday, the Maxwell Street Klezmer Band Jr played. THE MSKB is famous and this group of students is part of their outreach program to help continue the art and music of Klezmer. Gregory enjoyed it as you can see with his keeping time and the look of engagement on his face. Peaceful the Bear was resting at Gregory’s feet.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Interventions or Are They Daily Activities of Life?
In my comments to Kate Swaffer on her blog and in our backs and forths replying, I am becoming more aware of dementia in terms of thoughts, opinions, and attitudes of those who have it and those who do not. I have become more sensitive but still hold strongly to some of my previous views.
So based on a recent post of Kate's on things that can be done to help people with dementia in a better place, especially when distressed, agitated or upset, in place of using drugs, I made these comments.
You can read her full post here:
http://kateswaffer.com/2015/06/03/therapeutic-interventions-for-dementia/
If the activities help, in place of drugs, great. You are right to wonder about calling them "interventions" as they are the daily activities of life just used more purposefully.
I wonder why you feel that many of the activities are good for residential but not in the community use. You say that they are "just things people do" so why not do them wherever and whenever needed?
I am a person without dementia and I put on my headphones and listen to music when I need to calm my nerves or control my periodic depression. I take walks to help me think. I pet my cat, play fetch (she actually returns the puff ball to my hand,) laugh when she climbs circus style to the top of a ten foot ladder, and cry into her fur when sad.
My theory is (and it is not original) "Whatever works, works. That is the measure of doing it or not!"
Gerry, who has advanced dementia, loves her doll, talks to it, protects it, and shushes us when it is sleeping. It keeps her happy and feeling useful. What is the matter with playing with dolls if it works.
Vivian. who is less advanced than Gerry, says, "That is so foolish to play with dolls. My children are grown and I don't have to baby them anymore. I'd rather eat ice cream to keep me happy." What is the matter with eating ice cream and gaining a few pounds if it works. Also in small amounts and if monitored will it really hurt a diabetic?
Gregory has a Teddy Bear because I felt a "doll" would not "speak" to him but wanted him to have something like a "blankie" to comfort him. It works! He has always loved Teddy Bears. He loves this one who we have pegged, "Peaceful the Bear."
He holds it for comfort, throws it down when he is upset. He cries into it when listening to emotional classical music and he fondles its soft fur absent-mindedly.
The bear has become a mascot for many of the residents and most of the staff at Gregory's memory care facility.
I have three more identical ones in the closet in case one goes missing or falls apart. I laughingly tell myself that I am a good mother. And if that works why not do it!
* * *
On a separate note, I am thinking about some of your recent facebook issues and your periodic comments: "Please leave your comments but leave your value judgement behind."
It reminds me of when homosexuality in the 70's and 80's was just beginning to organize itself, become more visible, fight for justice, come out! The Gay Men and the Lesbians more often than not bumped heads and battled when it came to labels like Gay and did that or did that not include Lesbians? And who is speaking for whom and why!
Now we are GLBTQ and very visible (including more and more same sex marriage support world wide) So call it what you want Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual, Transgender, and/or Questioning ... we have come together.
The current (for lack of better words) battle between those with dementia and those without dementia, between those diagnosed and those who give care might just be leading us to a better place. Since reading much of your work and having done other research, I find I am being more careful with my vocabulary and realizing that some of my views are arguable and even insulting to some.
I just recently (on waking in the middle of the night) revisited one of my blogs to clean it up. It came on too strong and for people who do not know me could very well wreak havoc in opinions. So I was comfortable to scale my comments back enough to still get the message across but not to offend anyone or open wounds or create new ones (especially for me:-)
http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com/2015/06/between-rock-and-hardplace.html
Thanks Kate for being there!
So based on a recent post of Kate's on things that can be done to help people with dementia in a better place, especially when distressed, agitated or upset, in place of using drugs, I made these comments.
You can read her full post here:
http://kateswaffer.com/2015/06/03/therapeutic-interventions-for-dementia/
If the activities help, in place of drugs, great. You are right to wonder about calling them "interventions" as they are the daily activities of life just used more purposefully.
I wonder why you feel that many of the activities are good for residential but not in the community use. You say that they are "just things people do" so why not do them wherever and whenever needed?
I am a person without dementia and I put on my headphones and listen to music when I need to calm my nerves or control my periodic depression. I take walks to help me think. I pet my cat, play fetch (she actually returns the puff ball to my hand,) laugh when she climbs circus style to the top of a ten foot ladder, and cry into her fur when sad.
My theory is (and it is not original) "Whatever works, works. That is the measure of doing it or not!"
Gerry, who has advanced dementia, loves her doll, talks to it, protects it, and shushes us when it is sleeping. It keeps her happy and feeling useful. What is the matter with playing with dolls if it works.
Vivian. who is less advanced than Gerry, says, "That is so foolish to play with dolls. My children are grown and I don't have to baby them anymore. I'd rather eat ice cream to keep me happy." What is the matter with eating ice cream and gaining a few pounds if it works. Also in small amounts and if monitored will it really hurt a diabetic?
Gregory has a Teddy Bear because I felt a "doll" would not "speak" to him but wanted him to have something like a "blankie" to comfort him. It works! He has always loved Teddy Bears. He loves this one who we have pegged, "Peaceful the Bear."
He holds it for comfort, throws it down when he is upset. He cries into it when listening to emotional classical music and he fondles its soft fur absent-mindedly.
The bear has become a mascot for many of the residents and most of the staff at Gregory's memory care facility.
I have three more identical ones in the closet in case one goes missing or falls apart. I laughingly tell myself that I am a good mother. And if that works why not do it!
* * *
On a separate note, I am thinking about some of your recent facebook issues and your periodic comments: "Please leave your comments but leave your value judgement behind."
It reminds me of when homosexuality in the 70's and 80's was just beginning to organize itself, become more visible, fight for justice, come out! The Gay Men and the Lesbians more often than not bumped heads and battled when it came to labels like Gay and did that or did that not include Lesbians? And who is speaking for whom and why!
Now we are GLBTQ and very visible (including more and more same sex marriage support world wide) So call it what you want Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual, Transgender, and/or Questioning ... we have come together.
The current (for lack of better words) battle between those with dementia and those without dementia, between those diagnosed and those who give care might just be leading us to a better place. Since reading much of your work and having done other research, I find I am being more careful with my vocabulary and realizing that some of my views are arguable and even insulting to some.
I just recently (on waking in the middle of the night) revisited one of my blogs to clean it up. It came on too strong and for people who do not know me could very well wreak havoc in opinions. So I was comfortable to scale my comments back enough to still get the message across but not to offend anyone or open wounds or create new ones (especially for me:-)
http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com/2015/06/between-rock-and-hardplace.html
Thanks Kate for being there!
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Hatikva
Today for Lieberman's Sunday entertainment, a very talented young pianist performed a variety of music including classical, jazz, ragtime, Klesmer, and more. One piece he played was the "Hatikvah" or Israeli national anthem.
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As he was playing, many people in the audience began singling along in undertones and under their breath. It was a sound that while magical, was not joyous.
It seemed to carry the archetypal, universal sorrow and ache which the Jewish people have carried around through the centuries, and still seem to have as part of their cultural conscientiousness, beginning with the King of Egypt enslaving the Jews through Hitler and the Holocaust through today with Anti-Semitism still wreaking havoc.
"Hatikvah" "Hatikva" (הַתִּקְוָה, pronounced [hatikˈva], English: "The Hope") is the national anthem of Israel. Its lyrics are adapted from a poem by Naftali Herz Imber, a Jewish poet from Złoczów, (today, Zolochiv, Ukraine). Imber wrote the first version of the poem in 1877. The romantic anthem's theme reflects the Jew's 2000-year-old hope of returning to the Land of Israel, restoring it, and reclaiming it as a sovereign nation.
Hebrew | Transliteration | English translation |
|---|---|---|
| כֹּל עוֹד בַּלֵּבָב פְּנִימָה | Kol ‘od balevav penimah | As long as in the heart, within, |
| נֶפֶשׁ יְהוּדִי הוֹמִיָּה | Nefesh yehudi homiyah, | A Jewish soul still yearns, |
| וּלְפַאֲתֵי מִזְרָח, קָדִימָה, | Ul(e)fa’atei mizrach kadimah, | And onward, towards the ends of the east, |
| עַיִן לְצִיּוֹן צוֹפִיָּה, | ‘Ayin letziyon tzofiyah; | an eye still gazes toward Zion; |
| עוֹד לֹא אָבְדָה תִּקְוָתֵנוּ, | ‘Od lo avdah tikvateinu, | Our hope is not yet lost, |
| הַתִּקְוָה בַּת שְׁנוֹת אַלְפַּיִם | Hatikvah bat sh(e)not ’alpayim, | The hope of two thousand years, |
| לִהְיוֹת עַם חָפְשִׁי בְּאַרְצֵנוּ, | Lihyot ‘am chofshi b(e)’artzeinu, | To be a free nation in our land, |
| אֶרֶץ צִיּוֹן וִירוּשָׁלַיִם. | ’Eretz-Tziyon viy(e)rushalayim. | The land of Zion and Jerusalem. |
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
An Anthem for Alzheimer's
Captures the feelings of Alzheimer's as perceived by the people left behind. Sometimes I wish I knew what Gregory really was thinking but other times I am grateful that I don't! For the most part he seems happy, content, calm and I do my part to keep let this continue and to keep him warm, fed, and safe!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv1bf7S2XV0
Chris Mann - Remember Me
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv1bf7S2XV0
Chris Mann - Remember Me
LYRICS:
Remember Me: written by Chris Mann, Laura Mann, Rudy Tanzi, Willy Beaman, Dora Kovacs
I need someone to hold, to hold on for me
To what i can’t seem to hold on to
The life we used to live, is slipping through my fingertips
Like a thread that’s unraveling
I suppose that nothing lasts forever, and everything is lost in its time.
When I can’t find the words that I trying to speak
When I don’t know the face in the mirror I see
When I feel I’m forgotten and lost in this world
Won’t you please remember me
Remember me
I know there'll come a day, when i have gone away
And the memory of me will fade
But darling think of me, and who I use to be
And I'll be right there with you again
I hope I’m one thing worth not forgetting
Tell me that you’ll never let me go
When I can’t find the words that I trying to speak
When I don’t know the face in the mirror I see
When I feel I’m forgotten and lost in this world
Won’t you please remember me
Remember me
I hope I’m one thing worth not forgetting
Tell me that you’ll never let me go
When I can’t find the words that I trying to speak
When I don’t know the face in the mirror I see
When I feel like I’m lost and alone in this world
Won’t you please remember me
Remember me
-------
Remember Me is available for download on iTunes, Google Play and Amazon. You can also view the video for Remember Me over on my Facebook Page or YouTube Channel.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Today We Played Piano
Today, during one of my recent extended stays with Gregory, we listened to piano music. We started with Beethoven followed by Schuman, Rachmaninoff, and Chopin.
Through most of Beethoven Gregory moaned with delight. "My. My. My. My. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh."
During Schuman he cried with joyful reminiscence. I also helped his hands move through the motions of playing the treble with his right hand and playing the base with his left hand both in time to the piece we were listening to. While I did most of the movement I could feel his hands and fingers responding behind my control.
During Rachmaninoff we laughed when I said, "Too many notes," and retold the story of my father's comment/ compliment at Gregory's recital of Rachmaninoff for the family, "That sure was loud!"
After the first few bars into the Chopin, Gregory covered his face with his hands and began with a cry, then moved into sobs, which escalated to howls and over and over again saying something close to "I can't, I can't, I'll never." As suddenly as he went into his reverie he arrived back. I held him and we rocked for the rest of the piece.
During the Beethoven and Schuman, I asked several times if he was OK and he clearly said, "Yes."
During Rachmaninoff I commented, "What a fun time we are having!" He agreed.
For the Chopin, after his howling subsided, I asked if he wanted to stop listening for a while and he clearly said, "Yes, for a while!'
Through most this experience I measured my emotions which were ones of joy at being able to provide Gregory with memories and an opportunity to express his emotions. I was "here and now" and didn't think about his loss or my loss of who my best friend/lover used to be.
When we got to the howling, I began to cry as well, was overwhelmed with the Gregory who used to be and our relationship that does not and never will exist in the same way again. I began wondering at the worth of the experience. But Gregory's need to howl was there and it arrived and I held his hand and we rocked and it was over and it was good.
I feel great joy and great success when I am able to provide for his needs and feelings no matter the cost to mine!
Through most of Beethoven Gregory moaned with delight. "My. My. My. My. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh."
During Schuman he cried with joyful reminiscence. I also helped his hands move through the motions of playing the treble with his right hand and playing the base with his left hand both in time to the piece we were listening to. While I did most of the movement I could feel his hands and fingers responding behind my control.
During Rachmaninoff we laughed when I said, "Too many notes," and retold the story of my father's comment/ compliment at Gregory's recital of Rachmaninoff for the family, "That sure was loud!"
After the first few bars into the Chopin, Gregory covered his face with his hands and began with a cry, then moved into sobs, which escalated to howls and over and over again saying something close to "I can't, I can't, I'll never." As suddenly as he went into his reverie he arrived back. I held him and we rocked for the rest of the piece.
During the Beethoven and Schuman, I asked several times if he was OK and he clearly said, "Yes."
During Rachmaninoff I commented, "What a fun time we are having!" He agreed.
For the Chopin, after his howling subsided, I asked if he wanted to stop listening for a while and he clearly said, "Yes, for a while!'
Through most this experience I measured my emotions which were ones of joy at being able to provide Gregory with memories and an opportunity to express his emotions. I was "here and now" and didn't think about his loss or my loss of who my best friend/lover used to be.
When we got to the howling, I began to cry as well, was overwhelmed with the Gregory who used to be and our relationship that does not and never will exist in the same way again. I began wondering at the worth of the experience. But Gregory's need to howl was there and it arrived and I held his hand and we rocked and it was over and it was good.
I feel great joy and great success when I am able to provide for his needs and feelings no matter the cost to mine!
Friday, March 13, 2015
To Paint or Not To Paint
That is the question. Katharine, Gregory, and I have tried painting in art therapy for approximately five sessions. Some were a little more successful than others but for the most part Gregory's engagement rate has been minimal.
When he did go through the motions of finger painting he did not focus on the difference his hands and fingers were making in creating patterns of the color on the paper. There is a disconnect between what his hand do and what his eyes see.
We have tried the finger paint with different types of plastic gloves on a piece of paper taped to a tray. Today we tried an easel with crayons. We also tried Cray-Pas oil pastels and markers.
Gregory goes into a "I need to disappear now" shutdown, the nature of which I do not fully understand. When he cannot function, or possibly cannot piece together the necessary skills, he closes his eyes, bows his head, and sometimes leans forward.
When asked, "Are you sleeping?" he opens his eyes and said, "No." But when we try to re-engage him in painting he "shuts down" again. We tried moving his hands and arms through the motions. Not successful.
We sat quietly and waited for three for four or five minutes to see if he would respond to the Cray-Pas stick in his hand. Not successful. Katharine tried to position a marker in his hand like one would hold a pen and while he was able to do so, it lasted only for seconds.
Every now and then his fingers or hand would make a slight movement, or spasm. Perhaps the muscle memory cues that his brain was sending got through but only for a brief second.
Kathleen tried a drum filled with steel beads that makes a rattling noise. Gregory opened his eyes to study where the noise was coming from but then shut down.
Next I noticed that he placed his hands in a "playing piano" position with the drum so we got a xylophone off the shelf to see if Gregory could use the padded sticks to at least make some musical noise. Not successful.
So it looks like our nobel experiment was well worth the time but not the results and perhaps only served to frustrate Gregory. We will probably discontinue "painting" but I have to think about the possibility of putting him in front of a piano (or possibly an electronic keyboard which would be easier to play) and see if he would at least make some musical noise. I hesitate if only because I do not want to open unwanted doors to unnecessary emotions.
When he did go through the motions of finger painting he did not focus on the difference his hands and fingers were making in creating patterns of the color on the paper. There is a disconnect between what his hand do and what his eyes see.
We have tried the finger paint with different types of plastic gloves on a piece of paper taped to a tray. Today we tried an easel with crayons. We also tried Cray-Pas oil pastels and markers.
Gregory goes into a "I need to disappear now" shutdown, the nature of which I do not fully understand. When he cannot function, or possibly cannot piece together the necessary skills, he closes his eyes, bows his head, and sometimes leans forward.
When asked, "Are you sleeping?" he opens his eyes and said, "No." But when we try to re-engage him in painting he "shuts down" again. We tried moving his hands and arms through the motions. Not successful.
We sat quietly and waited for three for four or five minutes to see if he would respond to the Cray-Pas stick in his hand. Not successful. Katharine tried to position a marker in his hand like one would hold a pen and while he was able to do so, it lasted only for seconds.
Every now and then his fingers or hand would make a slight movement, or spasm. Perhaps the muscle memory cues that his brain was sending got through but only for a brief second.
Kathleen tried a drum filled with steel beads that makes a rattling noise. Gregory opened his eyes to study where the noise was coming from but then shut down.
Next I noticed that he placed his hands in a "playing piano" position with the drum so we got a xylophone off the shelf to see if Gregory could use the padded sticks to at least make some musical noise. Not successful.
So it looks like our nobel experiment was well worth the time but not the results and perhaps only served to frustrate Gregory. We will probably discontinue "painting" but I have to think about the possibility of putting him in front of a piano (or possibly an electronic keyboard which would be easier to play) and see if he would at least make some musical noise. I hesitate if only because I do not want to open unwanted doors to unnecessary emotions.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Sunday's at Lieberman
A talented young man named Alex sung Sinatra type songs, Rock & Roll, and Old Favorites today for an audience of about 75. Cheryl join us for the festivities.
The folks were really engaged with his performance and joy abounded. At one point Gregory was so moved by the music that he embraced Peaceful the Bear with a tear in his eye.
Finally, never underestimate the power and joy of music in even the most challenged situations.
The folks were really engaged with his performance and joy abounded. At one point Gregory was so moved by the music that he embraced Peaceful the Bear with a tear in his eye.
Finally, never underestimate the power and joy of music in even the most challenged situations.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Sunday at Lieberman
Every Sunday Lieberman Center offers entertainment in the community room. Gregory always enjoys the music and sometimes even this can be seen happening: Tapping in time to the music.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Painting Class II
Today Gregory painted. For the second time at Lieberman. When I approached him early morning while he was watching TV in one of the wings, he was exited to see me. I asked, "Do you want to paint today?" He perked up even more and started babbling somewhere between "Yes indeed!" and "Wonderful!" If you were standing there you may not have heard what I did but Gregory's enthusiasm definitely came through.
We went down to the art room on the second floor and were greeted by Katharine who asked, "Do you want to paint today." Again Gregory definitely indicated that he did!
We got a paint shirt onto him (not easy) and laid out the glossy paper in the tray with the tubes of paint in a row above. Then the slow, tedious, wondering part began. Will this work? Will Gregory get involved again? Will he remember how to do this? Will he be successful at pushing the paint around? Will he have a second in a row success?
A glob of paint was squeezed onto the center of the paper but Gregory did nothing. We placed a hand onto the paper with the instruction, "OK, paint!" Nothing. Katharine moved his hand around as a way of stimulating Gregory's thinking/processing. Nothing. I took his hand and used his fingers to tap, tap, tap through the paint. Nothing.
At one point Gregory leaned forward, head down, eyes closed and sat still. Katharine and I waited. After a short while we began our encouraging again. We put his hand onto the paint and moved the hand in circles, up and down, tap tap tap. Gregory joined in a little but one could not say Gregory was painting.
It was difficult to keep Gregory's posture correct, to have him focus on the paint and paper, to help him keep his eyes open, to move his fingers and/or hands.
Katharine though that some peppy music might help so she put some Latin sounding, rhythmic music on the CD player. It did seem to help and Gregory was a little more alert and a little bit more focused.
We were aware that once Gregory's hand was in or over the glob of paint, the paint disappeared from view and most likely from awareness. We played with moving the tray closer, and further, and changed the angle. It all helped: music, tray movement, placing his hand and/or fingers in a way that he could see the paint beside it rather than covering it.
Gravity helped a little but you could tell that Gregory was getting more involved. Several times during his stopped inertia, we asked, "Do you want to paint?" and he answered either "Yes" or "I am painting."
It was interesting to see Katharine process her moves with Gregory. It was interesting to see how much effort Gregory was putting into getting his arms and hands to move and processing what he was supposed to be doing with this colorful blob of paint on this piece of white paper (Description is mine. Gregory was most likely blank but now and then something would click in.)
One move that was fun and seemed to help Gregory was Katherine taking one hand and me taking Gregory's other and in grand strokes moving his through the paint using large gross motor skills in time to the Latin rhythms. Gregory seemed to enjoy this and it facilitated his processing so he could continue briefly when we let go of his hands.
It took longer to get him started this time but we spent more time in the art room and he definitely had a good time. All three of us were pleased.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Music & Alzheimer's
This came across my facebook page: God's Love: Naomi Feil, a Jewish woman, sings Christian hymns for Gladys, who has Alzheimer's and was unable to speak. Watch what happens at the end, when Mrs. Feil opens her heart and gives Ms. Gladys what she needs so deeply.
CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO: Music & Alzheimer's
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