Touching the Souls of Alzheimers Patients
Carol Nathan
Richmond, CA
During the recent holiday season James Steven Farnsworth brought his "Sound of Celebrations" concert to a local assisted-living facility where my husband, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease, lives with a group of men and women with the same affliction. I have attended a few of these attempts to entertain this particular audience. Visiting musicians often strive to bring their listeners to the music, often with sad results: patients becoming restless or anxious, and demanding to be taken back to their rooms.
But James' concert was different. His intention was to bring his offering to where the patients were, spanning that gap between their loss and what his violin had to say.
For forty-five minutes, James held the attention of his small audience through a humane acceptance of their condition with no condescension but with great affection. The program included many familiar holiday memories, which seemed to penetrate the clouding of the disease, while making no demands on his audience that they could not meet. The response, both during and after the concert, was filled with joy, James' as well as his audience's.
The tenderness of this man toward his damaged listeners was heartfelt, and as he moved among them, chatting, gently touching and unaffected, they responded to him with genuine delight. It was a lovely experience.
Carol Nathan
20 January 2007
Richmond, CA
During the recent holiday season James Steven Farnsworth brought his "Sound of Celebrations" concert to a local assisted-living facility where my husband, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease, lives with a group of men and women with the same affliction. I have attended a few of these attempts to entertain this particular audience. Visiting musicians often strive to bring their listeners to the music, often with sad results: patients becoming restless or anxious, and demanding to be taken back to their rooms.
But James' concert was different. His intention was to bring his offering to where the patients were, spanning that gap between their loss and what his violin had to say.
For forty-five minutes, James held the attention of his small audience through a humane acceptance of their condition with no condescension but with great affection. The program included many familiar holiday memories, which seemed to penetrate the clouding of the disease, while making no demands on his audience that they could not meet. The response, both during and after the concert, was filled with joy, James' as well as his audience's.
The tenderness of this man toward his damaged listeners was heartfelt, and as he moved among them, chatting, gently touching and unaffected, they responded to him with genuine delight. It was a lovely experience.
Carol Nathan
20 January 2007