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NOT WITHOUT A SONG
By Dawn Huntley Spitz
Our husbands wouldn’t go. They had been there once before and had found the experience too stressful. It had indeed been daunting that first time
to hear the gate close behind us and know that we were locked in with these unpredictable people. None of us knew what to expect. We four had entertained in nursing homes all over the valley but it was
our first experience in an Alzheimer’s facility.
The staff member who admitted us had led us into a large square room where approximately twenty or so patients were sitting quietly. They
seemed aware of our presence and a few even acknowledged us with a smile or a wave. We walked to the back of the room where there was a piano. Ruth Knight was our accompanist. Her husband, Chuck,
played the banjo. My husband, Eric, and I are singers.
We launched into our rousing opening—George M. Cohan songs like “You’re a Grand Old Flag” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” I began to parade in
front of
our audience to spark their interest. In a moment, a woman rose from her seat and started to dance. Others began clapping. Almost everyone seemed to be responding to the music. As we were performing, an elderly woman in a pale blue dress wandered into the room, picked up Ruth’s sweater and walked with it down the hall. An attendant gently took it away and returned it.
We could feel the energy building in the room. It heartened us to see the patients’ response. Just when it seemed we had everyone involved in the
music, a man leaped from his chair and ran to the locked door, looking terrified. An attendant gently led him back to his seat.
My husband and I sang several show tunes, some upbeat, some nostalgic. There was applause. Again the lady in the blue dress returned and
walked off with Ruth’s sweater. Once more the attendant brought it back.
What were these patients thinking, I wondered? Were they thinking at all? Most of these people looked normal. But, of course, we knew
they were ill. Were we reaching them?
We came to the end of our program. The patients gave us a polite and, in some cases enthusiastic, hand. An attendant unlocked the gate
and locked it behind us. As we stepped out into the sunlight, we gave a collective sigh of relief. What a privilege to be free… and well!
The activities director called us a few weeks later and asked us to return. Despite our husbands’ disinclination, Ruth and I decided to go.
It was a memorable day.
I began the program by singing “Without a Song.”
A man in the front row said “That was the first song I ever learned.” He had a shock of thick white hair.
“Are you a singer?” I asked. “What’s your name?”
“Bill,” the man replied.
“Bill what?” I persisted.
Never Without a Song – Dawn Huntley Spitz – Page 3.
“Bill Farrell.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I knew this man. He had been a great singer in his day. He had a booming voice and a sound not unlike Billy
Eckstein. I had met him several times at the old Merv Griffin hotel in Palm Springs where my husband I went to hear jazz pianist Bill Marx play. We had heard him sing often.
That he was here at Mirage Cove, a victim of Alzheimer’s, and that I had not even recognized him, saddened me.
“Will you sing for us? I asked him.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, getting to his feet.
We listened to his big voice giving its unique interpretation of the songs of Cole Porter and Jerome Kern. Before our eyes, a desperately ill
man with fading mind became a vigorous artist involved in what had been the love of his life—singing.
Then he faltered. The words wouldn’t come. The lyrics of songs he had sung a thousand times he suddenly couldn’t remember. I began to sing with him, prompting him. We sang Gershwin and Rodgers -END and Hart and more Cole Porter. How moving it was to share some of the last musical moments of this wonderful singer!
Some months later, I read that Bill Farrell had died. Our beloved friend and accompanist, Ruth, is gone too. But there is still music. Now in
our 70’s, my husband and I continue to sing. And God willing, we will never be without a song.
Dawn Huntley Spitz of Rancho Mirage has lived in the desert since 1999. She is a member of the Pen Women and recent past president of the Palm Springs Writers Guild. As her story relates, she is also
an entertainer and recently performed with her husband in a program at Charlotte's restaurant.
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