I can absolutely agree, and I've written about this as well.

I was health care surrogate for my dad, when he had Alzheimer's, and part-time caregiver for my mother-in-law, whose AD had progressed much further. And music was helpful - and moving - for them both.

In my dad's case, as a professional pianist, when it came time to find an Assisted Living facility for him, one of my prime directives was that it had to have a decent piano.

And the extraordinary thing is that, far from being upset at having his freedom thus limited, my dad almost immediately convinced himself that this was his new "gig," that he'd been hired to play, and that he was thus "earning his keep."

And earn his keep he did . . . although his playing gradually devolved, and he and I could both hear the difference, he was so damned good that no one unfamiliar with his playing would have heard anything but beautiful music. And he was beloved by the residents and staff alike, as he kept them entertained, and I have little doubt that this is a large part of why his AD never progressed as quickly as most, though his overall health deteriorated. He kept his brain alive through his playing.

He never lost his ability to play, playing every day as he did, and he never forgot who I was, even though he stopped calling me by name a year or so before he died. But he still introduced me as his daughter to anyone who stood still long enough.

I used to joke with my mom that I'd be fine in solitary confinement because I'd simply be playing all the music I loved in my head. ;-)

And yes, I sing all the time too, to Lolo, to the cats, to the goats, to the trees . . . and to the spirits of our beautiful place.

Music is indeed transformative. My life would be far poorer without it.

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