The Healing Harp Blog

It’s a mystery waiting to be known, or not, when you travel around with your harp in the car going from one home to another, load it onto your shoulder, and head into the latest referral that the hospice nurse or social worker has given you. Who am I playing for this time?

You may play for someone all alone in the room and not even present in the “now” due to dementia. Slip in, play, offer blessings, slip out.

Or perhaps a loved one will be surrounded by family members and it turns out the music is more for them, their anxiety, their wondering, than for the patient. Sometimes, it’s for the caregiver who is doubtless worn out, perhaps by incessant need, by the associated grief, by Sundowner’s, by constant giving and serving.

On occasion, you may have the opportunity to play for a patient and nearby lies another, not a patient on your list, but who, due to the circumstances of being a roomie, is listening to the music as well…

And therein lies my recent eye-opening opportunity to provide music. The call for Conrad originally came in April and I have played for him at least once a month since. He has a horrible Parkinson’s-like disease that causes him to be very stiff and he has a hard time communicating and swallowing. It’s particularly tough since he’s just 6 years older than I.

I played for him in his room the first time and he’d mentioned Beatles to the social worker, so in I went with Beatles and more. His roommate, Peter, who is perhaps similarly aged, remained quiet to the point I wasn’t sure if I was imposing on him, or just what. But eventually I picked up from his expression that he was enjoying the music.

The next few times, including Conrad’s birthday in late July, he was eating in the kitchen area and other residents were around but not the roommate. Once we got to August and September, Conrad was less able to be out of bed so I was back in his room to provide a bit of everything from classical to Here Comes the Sun. This time, I could tell Peter loved it, as he was visually more demonstrative.

Peter lies there, sometimes with shades on his eyes, taking in the music. Oh yes, you noticed – this story is switching to Peter and he’s not even my patient. It gets richer… October 21, Conrad is really suffering from eating his yogurt breakfast, choking, coughing, wearing out. Peter is quietly lying there, listening to selections from my autumn pieces I’ve put together. I end with Nearer My God to Thee segueing into My Heart Will Go On. It’s a sweet ending to the time.

I say good-bye to Conrad, then to Peter and he speaks! “Wait!” Stick-thin legs get him out of his bed and he shuffles to the closet to get out a bag. He feels around for CDs and hands me two. He opens the cover of one and there’s a photo of a young man and he flounders for words, trying to say, “Son.” I respond, “This is your son.” He nods readily. I am unsure if I’m to borrow or take so I say I’ll bring them back. “No, no, they’re for you.” I thank him, tuck them into my bag and bring them home.

At home, I’m struck by the title: Songs for the Living: A Musical Journey Through Grief. I read the few liner notes and learn that Peter, not his son, wrote the music, plays several instruments throughout the recordings, and they are dedicated to his coping and healing from the loss from cancer of his 22-year-old son. I’m shaken. Somehow, I’m connecting to someone not even on my roster, and he’s turning out to be more and more amazing.

I get on the internet and learn even more. Peter lost his son in 2004 and it ripped him apart, according to his brother. In 2005, he was inspired to go to New Orleans, taking more than one trailer full of pianos and other musical instruments from Southern Oregon to help those who lost their instruments or needed repairs after Hurricane Katrina. He winds up staying there 5 years, creating a foundation for his mission and dedicated to his son, and all the while continues to help people, especially musicians and their instruments. You can hear a bit about it in this interview he had that was featured on NPR.

I listen to the first track, You Are With Me. It’s poignant, beautiful, sweet, filled with depth of emotion. He did an amazing job on it. You can hear it here:

So why is he lying in a bed and apparently not doing very well? I inadvertently find out on the internet. Age 64, he was felled by a massive stroke that caused paralysis of his entire right side. His brother didn’t find him for 3 hours and time is of the essence in any kind of stroke recovery. Doctors gave up on him, yet friends and family did not. That’s why he can walk at all now. Speech, taking up a quarter of the brain, is the last piece to recover, which explains his halting ability with words.

I’m dumbfounded to discover he’s an Ashland musician, obviously well known in years gone by, obviously extremely talented and quite willing to give of self. He made 4 trips to and from New Orleans, driving 75 instruments to the area.

This past Friday, the social worker for Conrad leaves me a message that Conrad is actively dying and since he always enjoyed the music, if I could get there soon, it would really matter. I head over there on Saturday, as I am playing a special event in Medford anyway and it’s easy enough to make happen.

I am there for Conrad…. and I am there for Peter, too. I cannot help it. I walk in, reach out my hand to Peter and we squeeze hands tightly for a few minutes; I am hoping I can choke back any tears and not have a shaky voice. I “suck it up”, smile, and say, “So – you are a fellow musician!” He nods and smiles. I hadn’t known this all those times I was playing for the two of them. I offer my empathy for the loss of his son, my congratulations on the great CD and mention the beauty of “You Are With Me.” I know he is grateful to have made this connection.

I am left wondering about the details of the lives of so many people with whom I come in contact, play a set of tunes for, hope to reach their hearts, maybe even help them in their journey onward. And yet, I do not know them, who they are, how they’ve lived, how they came to be where they are…. and in this case, who lies in the bed next to them.

Even after writing this, I still find myself amazed that….
I never know for whom I will next play my harp.

After a few hospice appointments, my roster got shortened last Thursday and so I had a moment to stop in to my favorite essential oils store in Phoenix, Oregon. I have recently met these lovely ladies who own and run the store and we’re aiming to offer a specialized Music Spa™ in the New Year. In the meantime, I wanted to offer them some harp music for the holidays. “Silver Bells” was the first request and Denise videoed it while I played. I’m a few days behind in sharing it for the season! Think of it as New Year’s Eve Bells. I even made use of the built-in colored lights! 🙂

I was called to go out to Butte Falls to play my hospice harp. I was asked to go play for a gentleman who was dying at the age of 63. Since I’m rather close to that age, 😉 I don’t consider it particularly “old” as  I might have in my youth! It hurts my heart to be playing for such young folks, and yet, it was his time.. and it was my time to be there for him and his similarly aged wife.

I phoned and made the appointment with wife, then made the hour trek to this rather remote town. When I arrived, she greeted me, led me in, then had to do something. She’d introduced me to her husband and he asked me to please come into the bedroom. I often play in bedrooms of hospice patients, but as we walked in, he took off his shirt… and I wondered what was about to take place. His wife joined him then and he said, “We want to make a memory.” Even now, several months later, that brings a tear to my eye that they were so conscious of their imminent separation.

She explained that they’d known each other way back when, gone separate ways, married others, had children, then found each other again 25 years ago. I was playing right on their 25th anniversary of coming back together!

During my time playing, they snuggled in the bed as much as they could due to his physical comfort level. I played tunes they requested and soothing songs I figured they’d know, but most of all, they appreciated the old hymns most people instantly recognize: “Old Rugged Cross,” “In the Garden,” “How Great Thou Art,” and “Amazing Grace” being the top four that are so beloved. There were many tears, signs of recognition, passing of the tissues box, and at the end…gratitude.

I would make it out there one more time before he’d be gone, and that time he’d be in a much less able to communicate state. Still, I knew the music was washing over him, strengthening him for his next journey. He passed within the week ahead and I was indeed grateful I’d been privileged to help them “make a memory.”

I drove to Jacksonville [Oregon] to play for a wonderful woman who has five daughters. One of them, Merry, was so caring, she gave up her life in Florida, drove out to Oregon with her 10 goats, one horse, 3 dogs, and 2 cats!!! She set up her household on her parents’ property to care for them, caring for her father until he departed a year ago. Now she’s SO VERY lovingly caring for her mother who is getting close to passing. I was called to go play harp and what a privilege! Mom has a PhD in Physics! Truly a special woman for her generation. Daughter was delighted with the music, as music was an important part of their growing up years. She texted me this video.
She said, “I think the music is more for me than my mom!” That winds up happening a lot.

Today, I played my hospice harp for a gentleman who is a percussionist and a great lover of the Beatles. As a child he and his friend would listen to them all day long. I played him several Beatles tunes on my white DeLight harp… gentle soothing ballads of “The Long and Winding Road,” “Hey Jude,” and many more. When I’d finished that set, I moved to “Fields of Gold” by Sting and my client motioned to his son to bring him his conga from the other room. The gentleman soon started playing with me, so I suggested we start from the top. We had a lovely ensemble of gently patted conga and lever harp. I was blown away by how this moment of Music-making deeply touched me. We promised to do it again soon. In tribute to this special moment in time:

The Music still lives in him
He must let it out….
“The Music still lives in me!”
You almost hear him shout!

Bring him his conga,
Let him pat out the beat.
Play with the harpist –
In Music they meet.

The Music still lives in him
There is no doubt…
The Music still lives in him
He has to let it out…

They’re brought together
By Sting’s “Fields of Gold.”
Rhythm, harmony, melody
All listeners enfold.

The Music still lives in him
And it ALWAYS will…
For Music is living Spirit
Impossible to kill.

Ill health and hospice,
Even the summer’s smoky air
Can’t get in the way;
We certainly don’t care

For when it’s time to make Music
The beat takes command.
Harmony underpins,
The melody sings….and….

The Music still lives in him
There is no doubt…
The Music still lives in him
Together we let it out…

~Celia Ann~ 7/30/18

Dr. Delaney! The name inspired true awe in the hearts of her students. She was a powerhouse of knowledge, energy, insights, perfect perfect pitch, spot-on ear, jazz piano, improv like nobody’s business, understanding of students of all ages, and so much more! She was my hero for multitudinous reasons.

The day before a landmark birthday, I sit here wondering how I can encapsulate all she meant to me. I hearken back to a Sunday school birthday party when I was about 12 or 13 (was it my birthday? I cannot recall, but I was obviously impressed by this incident)… One of the mothers present at the party asserted, “I’ve always thought that the mother ought to be the one who gets the gifts and celebration!” I filed that away thinking that one birthday soon I would do just that for my own mother. Alas, it wasn’t to be, as I had few birthdays left before I would lose my mother to cancer, and I was too self-involved at each to remember to fete her. Still, some almost 50 years later, I recall this.

And so today, in timely accord with my birthday and the passing of someone very dear to my heart, I celebrate my “professional mother,” Dr. Carole Jean Delaney, California State University, Sacramento, who just passed from this world 12/28/17.

Once we’d met, she took me under her wing just a bit, even before I was officially in her classes and gaining her music education tutelage. The day I dismally walked into her office determined that it was time for me to quit my Music Degree quest is the day she changed my life. Not only did she think that was poppycock, but she told me to change my piano teacher… something that professionally was a risk for her and I was sworn to secrecy that she’d said that. (Somewhere above, she smiles at me, as we both know all parties involved have passed from this world.) That’s when I went from a mediocre pianist to one who blew away the pre-recital jury who’d heard me before; I even was successful enough at my Senior Recital that I was persuaded to go for my Master’s in Piano Performance. All because Dr. Delaney made it comfortable for me to go to her and she was willing to take the risk to point me in the direction that was right for me.

One time I noticed something about Carole (she made me start calling her that after I’d graduated – but oh so hard because of my deep respect for her) – My goodness, I thought, she’s shorter than I. I’d been with her 2+ years and had never noticed that! WHY? Because she was a bigger spirit than her stature would have you believe. I saw, respected, admired, loved the HUGE heart, mind, and spirit that was Dr. Delaney.

She encouraged me to join Mu Phi Epsilon and helped me get inducted into Pi Kappa Lambda. She mentored me through all my Music Student Teaching. She put in a great word for me when San Juan Unified School District began their “music prep” program in 1985. And even tho’ she didn’t like having her picture taken, (she really put up a fuss each time) she allowed my boyfriend to take a pic of us together at my Master’s graduation. How lucky I am to have that now!

She believed in me so much, I had to start believing in myself! Perhaps that was her greatest gift to me ever! She placed several student teachers with me and wrote me a glowing reference so I could apply to be a Mentor Teacher with the State of California for two rounds of three years each. She encouraged CSUS Music Department to offer me an Alumni Achievement award.

When it was time to move to Maui, she supported me and when the conducting job of the then-Maui Symphony Chorus was offered to me, I consulted with her, and of course she encouraged me to spread my wings. She’d always envisioned my conducting a high school chorus, so this seemed like the perfect fit. Whenever I went back to California, I attempted to touch base with her…. and it was such a meeting around 2006 (? – I really have no idea when this occurred) that I can see clear as day her giving me the news that she had Alzheimer’s. This brilliant human being – brilliant in mind AND spirit – it seemed impossible, yet she confessed it ran in her family. I never got to see her again, sadly. Yet, it doesn’t much matter, because her spirit lives in my  heart and in my soul as the person who believed in me when I most needed it; the one who knew me better than I knew myself when it came to being a teacher of excellent transmission of skills and love; the one who knew without doubt that I was cut out to be a fine conductor.

I will always remember with deepest gratitude this woman of integrity, unmatched professionalism, highest music standards, staunch defense of her students… thank you, dear Dr. Carole Jean Delaney.

Carole’s obituary here

Today I played harp for someone on hospice who had a hideous and gnarly job after the sinking of the Indianapolis in 1945. I didn’t ask him about it; I only know what I know from the social worker who made the referral. This gentleman is depressed and very contained. He’s had trauma, I was told. Well, indeed yes! I had not heard of the sinking of the Indianapolis so I just researched it. Oh my! She was carrying parts and the enriched uranium (about half of the world’s supply of Uranium-235 at the time) for the atomic bomb Little Boy, which would later be dropped on Hiroshima. She was gunned down by a Japanese submarine and sank in 12 minutes. It’s the single largest loss of life from the loss of a single ship in the US Navy’s history. Wikipedia states: Of 1,196 crewmen aboard, approximately 300 went down with the ship. The remaining 900 faced exposure, dehydration, saltwater poisoning, and shark attacks while floating with few lifeboats and almost no food or water. The Navy learned of the sinking when survivors were spotted four days later by the crew of a PV-1 Ventura on routine patrol. Only 317 survived.

The gentleman for whom I played today was one of those who helped gather the dead bodies from the shark-infested waters after the sinking. How do you do such things and not experience trauma? When man’s inhumanity to man is so intensely horrible, it’s hard to go forward, yet this man did for 72 more years. That means he must be in his 90s. I am sure his Faith has gotten him through. Yet now, a troubled heart of trauma makes his end days sad. I imagine he never received the opportunity to download and process in the way one might now.

And I, a mere harpist, sat there trying to reach to my depths and his, trying to choose music that might touch him. Midway through, I realized that here I am playing for one of our older vets on Veterans’ Day – rather unplanned, except by God, I’m sure. All I could think was…. “Blessings; Peace; Blessings; Peace.”

“Old Rugged Cross” brought distinct fond reminiscences to him, as I hoped it would, and his gruff voice tried to sound some of the chorus from “In the Garden.” “Edelweiss” brought him a touch of warm sentiment, and before you knew it I was through. I felt that I should have stayed all evening to play for such a one. I promised to come back – he said, “Any time.” I left with my fervent prayer for him until we meet again: Peace.

Further he said: I know I’ve always loved music and had a special connection with it. When I had the opportunity to go back to college, your words help guide me toward the right direction! “Never stop singing” you said! I’m just glad you took time to encourage me…

I am so grateful I got this one right and encouraged him, when I didn’t even know it would ultimately matter. Thanks, God!

You never know where you might find a harpist…. in the Phoenix Auto Center waiting area??? Well, why not? I had my hospice harp with me as I was heading to a patient next after getting my car fixed up… and, when speaking to wonderful Katrina, she mentioned she was always dealing with stress and wished I could stay and play for her all day…. I volunteered that I could play while waiting, and she was into it, so I set up and provided some soothing music for all there. I do believe it was appreciated! 🙂

Live harp music has a quality that’s been clinically studied (tho’ more is needed) and shown to reduce heart rate, lower blood pressure, and bring calm to all sorts of settings… even auto centers!

Thank God for all the few thousand gigs I played on Maui! I built a solid repertoire of memorized music, much of which is universally appealing. I have truly been blessed by how opportunities in my life have built on one another, even when least expected.