By then, the Catholic high school was trying to breathe new life into church services with the guitar group (and chorus).  Our teacher "Fred" was willing to go against traditions and bring real-life music into the church. We'd all line up inside the altar area (a no-no before) - altos, sopranos and high sopranos grouped accordingly.    Folk songs of Peter, Paul & Mary and other new ballads of the 1960s were favorites.

            After mom died, I still loved music but found little to hold onto in the words of the songs.  And after graduation from high school, I had little opportunity to sing except to my daughter who was born when I was 20 years old.    Six years later when I got a car, I loved blasting the radio as I traveled alone, especially on the open highway.   I was still the teen of the 1970s, a decade past, but slowly growing into the music of the then current decade, the 1980s.   Rock and Roll and Pop Rock was in my brain, my heart, and soul.  Times when I would be singing while driving on the highway were some of my best days.  Maybe you can hear the lyrics to songs like these from the 1970s and 1980s...

Somewhere in the 1990s though, music became for me -  silent. 

The stereo I'd saved for and bought years before sat - unused.

Maybe it was because of being busy as a single parent with a young daughter?  
Maybe it was being busy as a home care nurse.
Maybe it was other things that made music silent...

In that period of silence is the same time I became ill.  The first year I spent in a hospital bed, crammed into my small dining room where the TV took up most of the table.  The second year I moved back to my own bed, and the TV returned to its stand in the living room.  With the door left open between the two rooms, I could see the television; it was one of the only things to fill the very long days waiting in-between home health aide visits, and lonely nights spent alone and in pain.   When the noise of the TV became too much, there were always crossword puzzles or novels; I read between 15 and 20 books every day, going through all the mysteries our local library had on their shelves.

            The third year, a friend let me borrow her laptop computer so I could lie in bed and type.  It's a good thing too, because I would have begun pulverizing the walls of my apartment (that is, if I could have stayed on my feet long enough to do it!).   The computer gave me access again to "the world."  I could play games, meet and chat with people on the internet, and resume my hobbies.  

More importantly, though, I could do two things that had been set aside with becoming ill and being stuck in bed.  I could write again (the computer was so much easier than trying to balance a paper on top of a book resting on the mattress), and I could use the CD/DVD player in the computer to listen to music (or use an internet radio station)!   It was only then that I realized how much I value music, and how melodies and lyrics could feed my mind and soul.   While my mother had turned to the hymns and upbeat musical numbers so well-known in her generation, the songs of my youth brought me the same comfort, solace, and hope that I imagine my mother also sought in her music.

            In early 2003, I was lucky to get a home health aide who was willing to put CDs back into my stereo and crank the volume up so high that my upstairs neighbors could probably understand every word.  We'd only play music 30 minutes or so, but it was enough for me to feel rejuvenated.  Or, sometimes I'd match the music I picked to my mood: playing soft or a bit sad music allowed me to cry tears about the things I couldn't cry about otherwise, like the loss of my youth, my health, my independence, and to work through the grief of recent losses of my grandmother and sister (who had been very supportive to me emotionally).   And too, using music could help change my mood -- even when I was down, it was hard to ignore the beat of a favorite song.  

It was then that I remembered how it had felt to DANCE!  No, I couldn't dance like I used to, not with having a movement disorder now.  But I could wiggle and jiggle even laying down, or move my feet in time with the music.  When my legs would start jerking in tremors, it seemed rather ironic since I had "lost" the ability to dance like I used to - but also, it was obvious that it was rather stupid to say I couldn't dance anymore.  I could dance!  I could move in relation to music!  I just was laying down instead of standing up.

            Whether you love polka music or big bands, or Pop, Rock or Soul music...or hard rock and rap.... or even instrumentals, YOU too can again enjoy "dancing".   Ask for someone to use your stereo to play your favorite CDs, cassettes or old records (oh yes, I still have my old vinyl 33&1/3, 45s and some older records, too).  See if your computer has a CD player - or buy one.  Or get a radio to use at your bedside.  Anything you can do to get music back in your life will be worth the cost!!  And, don't worry about the kind of music you play, no matter what other people might think.  If YOU like the selections of music, DO it.  Play the songs -- and enjoy!   

 

Note: Music is a good way for coping not only with illness and disease, but also with physical limitations and frustrations.  Music is a good tool to heal past sexual abuses also.  It may help to play songs of one's childhood or youth, not just the current popular music.   

 

 

 

 

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