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What was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself--life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose?  
Willa Cather, Song of the Lark 

About a year ago, I met a roomful of about twenty-five senior citizens. My own grandparents lived in Oregon when I grew up on the East Coast, so in my personal life, my contact and experience with people older than myself was limited at best.  Now, for the first time in my life, I am spending time with the older population--with seniors--and I am hungry to get to know them.

When Rosie sings All of Me in Spanish, in an unprecedented performance before the entire group at my AFTA workshop, and when a shy Violet sings in my ear the gospel song The Last Time I Heard My Mother Pray, I know I have done my job. To re-kindle live song in someone’s heart--I feel I have become the catalyst for someone’s healing.

At the end of my AFTA program, I shake hands with everyone in the room. This is one of the more important things I do. It is then I see the biggest smiles, feel the softest hands; and I have never had so many good wishes exchanged in such a short period of time!  The power of human touch is incredible.  I have heard that babies not held when they are born will die from lack of human touch.  We humans are pack animals when it comes down to it.  We need, desire, and are better off when we hold each other.  I do wonder sometimes how much human touch we are gifted as we get older.   

The personal impact AFTA has made on me became clear when my schedule allowed me to lead only a few AFTA workshops during a recent two-month recording for my second album. I was recording and creating, but my life did not feel as complete. What was missing?  Music heals. It heals musicians, and it heals listeners.  When I play at senior centers, I am consistently struck by the impact of song. The room is brighter, the faces shine, people are humming when the workshop has ended. And, really, it all starts with a smile. As we get older, perhaps we are not encouraged enough to sing a song.  But singing is inherently good, no matter how good or bad it sounds. It heals. 

Pretenses seem to disappear at AFTA workshops. I remember after finishing a session one morning, standing there as everyone clapped, this gentle lady jumped out of her chair and came right up to me.  She gave me a big kiss on the cheek!   And as I went around and shook everyone’s hands, more kisses came, along with a Polish blessing. I sat down with a pen and wrote these words:   

blessed is she who carries her heart so open
her wrinkled soft hands surrender her joy like a small sparrow in flight
blessed is he who whistles like the trees,
tapping his foot back to a memory he holds close as his wife  
blessed are the shining eyes, present  
and yet gateways to a lifetime of change, tears and smiles.  
blessed are tears cried, in the middle of song  
reaching beyond the mind to the soul stirring  
blessed is the hope held and passed on,  
with sincerity and wisdom of an apple orchard in bloom,  
May you always be held safe, in gentle hands 
and with peace deeper than your heart allows.

Mary Sue Twohy, Former AFTA Musician