By Tara Dublin

The Songbirds Choir brings the sound of music to senior living

Every Wednesday morning, a small group of volunteers assembles just off the lobby of the Rose Schnitzer Senior Center in Portland, Oregon, to gather around a grand piano and sing old standards to the residents.

The Songbirds Choir, coordinated by Michelle Gradow, includes Jan Berne and Sharon Pollin.  Once I heard about this beautiful volunteer opportunity, I knew I had to experience it for myself.

As a member of a community based around singing–The Low Bar Chorale, which meets up every other Tuesday night in a bar to sing contemporary songs with a live band in three-part harmony–I already knew about the way music connects people like nothing else. But the physical act of singing is also incredibly therapeutic–which is why I’ve been calling Low Bar my “group therapy” for years.

Music as therapy has been around for ages, but more recent studies indicate that seniors struggling with memory issues can often recall old song lyrics without prompting, and that playing their favorite songs can bring them out of periods of being fully non-verbal.

The Songbirds don’t really fret about harmony or even singing perfectly on key, although pianist Todd Marston was kind enough to accommodate a request during my second visit to transpose some of the songs down a step or two because I’m a contralto who can easily sing tenor. Sharon claims to be an alto, but I can tell you right now that her lovely lilting voice is full-on mezzosoprano.

         The handful of residents assemble in either their own wheelchairs or in a comfy armchair, then are given their songbooks with large printed lyrics for each happy tune chosen for that day.

Some of the residents are chattier and more enthusiastic than others. Harvey, singing at full voice for every song, asks Todd when they’re taking their act “on the road” to headline at Carnegie Hall.

“I’m ready!” Todd tells Harvey. “Let’s go!”

Sharon leads the songs and Jan gamely tries to keep up, she tells me. “I don’t know all of them like Sharon does,” Jan confides to me quietly. “But I just love doing this.”

The residents clearly enjoy it is as well, singing along to songs written when they were just kids. “I Get A Kick Out Of You.” “The Red Red Robin.” “The Way You Look Tonight.” “As Time Goes By.” So many songs I’d learned as a kid and live in my heart as well.

Some residents need a little help now and then, so Sharon and Jan check to make sure everyone is on the right page in their songbooks.

Jan is absent on my second visit, family obligations taking her out of town. I gamely stand in for her, helping out and chatting amiably with Harvey and the others, dancing through the livelier songs with Sharon and joking about my low voice with Todd.

Towards the end of the hour, which flies by, one of the residents is visibly emotional. Her eyes are filled with tears, and because her voice is a whisper and she speaks almost exclusively her native language–Farsi–it’s difficult for anyone to understand what she’s murmuring between songs. I feel drawn to her more than any of the others, because I can see on her beautiful face how much she wants to connect, to communicate.

         What started for me as an interesting article is now going to become part of my life. Volunteering is always something I’ve enjoyed, as being in service to others is its own kind of therapy as well. You really do end up getting more than you give, in the best ways. Now I’m starting the process to be a regular Songbird, which requires a proper background check and screening interview to make sure the residents are always with someone safe.

I can’t wait to go back. Because at the end of that last hour, as I turned her page to the last song, I could clearly understand the woman who speaks in Farsi.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”