Any feelings of institutionalised care floated away down the hallway with the chords from my guitar - at least they did for me.
I can't speak for the 20-odd diners but I could see it was great for them. Many put down their cutlery and clapped after each song.
Some eyes were transfixed on me as the jaws thereunder set their rhythm.
It was a happy scene. There were smiles and heads bobbed to the beat. One man gently tapped his knife and fork together - and kept time perfectly.
They laughed at my jokes. Several thanked me loudly as I bid farewell. I could only say, "No, I must thank you for having me here in your home and to share your dinner - well, dinnertime."
They chuckled and waved. In the twilight, as I pressed the code on the gate I felt privileged to have been there and contributed something.
It was, indeed, a more inspiring experience than any of the countless mealtime shows I have played, and it happened by chance.
Having overstayed on my one-on-one round and sessions in the central courts, I reached the dementia unit almost an hour late, bang on mealtime. The carers said I may as well stay and play if I had the time. Luckily, I did.
For me, it was like playing in a classy resort. Ripples of various emotions may roll through any dining area.
Restaurants, cafes and club bistros contain a mix of the levels of interest, but nothing like that night with those lovely people.
I remember playing Moon River, which is always nice.
The youtube introduction to the Louis Armstrong version says: '... from "The Very Best Of Louis Armstrong. This version of "Moon River" is the most poignant of all.'
Image courtesy of American artist Susan Brubaker Knapp. I hope you visit the site as her fibre art is amazing.
Sounds like it was a fantastic time :-)
ReplyDeleteSteve