Members of the Good Memories Choir singing “Happy Birthday” to Ann and Anna, Sept. 28th, 2018

It’s the beginning of October. We’ve now held five rehearsals of the Good Memories choir. As many of you know, Good Memories is our new choral program for people with early-stage memory loss and their care partners, singing together in a choir along with a remarkable group of singer volunteers. This remarkable band of people already has begun to gel as a community.

I am struck by a number of things about Good Memories. First, the conductor in me is gratified that the singing is very good. People are learning quickly and retaining well from week to week. Everyone is united by a love for singing.

Second is the incredible thing that inspired us to bring Good Memories to Chicago. After about half an hour of rehearsing, everyone in the room is alert, alive, and fully present. This includes people with memory loss who were not very engaged or responsive when they arrived at rehearsal. You can feel it in the room when all of our brains are turned on. From that point forward and through the end of the rehearsal, you can’t tell who has memory loss and who doesn’t. People who usually sit down all day long often end up getting inspired and standing up to sing.

Next is the way that Good Memories has just taken on an identity of its own, evident from the very first Tuesday morning on September 4^th. There is an overarching kindness in the room, along with a quiet hum of joy. It has much to do with the personalities of the individuals who make up the group: people with memory loss, care partners, volunteers, program staff and musicians. There are spunky people, goofy people, introverted and serious people; people with decades of choral singing experience and people who’ve never been in a choir before; people with early-stage memory loss and people who are somewhat further progressed, and therefore people with full and some with less command of both memory and language; and the amazing care partners and volunteers who keep it all going.

This quality is taking shape in no small part to the tireless work put in by Karen Ross, our volunteer coordinator, and Sandy Siegel Miller, our program director (and my amazing wife and partner).  The video below is of our “Move and Groove” movement break halfway through the rehearsal. Everyone’s getting into it!

For reasons I can’t quite explain, there is a contentedness at what we are creating. The feeling reminds me of the way my late mother-in-law, Ruth Crippen, would cluck around the house (anyone’s house) when all of her peeps were present—children, grandchildren, and so on. She was totally in her element as the matriarch.  Nobody at Good Memories has that role, but the feeling of the group being connected is similar, and my sense is that many of us share it.

After the rehearsal part of the morning is concluded (with “Happy Trails to You”) and the participants are headed out, we have another short activity, namely a brief recap group chat among the volunteer singers. Sandy and Karen lead this conversation. We sit in a circle afterward and talk about it, and I’m so impressed and grateful at the quality of care and thoughtfulness that every volunteer singer brings to the job. These volunteers pay attention to every little thing about the singers:  body language, how people respond to the music and to the setting, things that are said and those that are left unsaid, and so on.  The volunteers are watching the care partners for cues and clues, just as carefully as they watch the singers who have memory loss. It’s such a gift to be in that circle, with the people who care enough to want to spend a whole morning with Good Memories.

So many people have worked and planned and been generous, financially and otherwise, to get this little ship of Good Memories off the ground, and after two years of hard work, it is now in the water and sailing. We sing with full hearts every Tuesday morning. Come visit us on the 5th floor of the Gratz Center at 10:00, and see and hear this remarkable choir for yourself.

In gratitude,

Jon