I first sang in a health care center close to forty years ago. And I wasn't a child star. The biggest hurdle for me was my own emotions, not the patient's. If I had to make any generalizations, it would be that I find people respond to something that brings back their memories. Not yours. The most bizarre experience I ever had was watching a woman in her early twenties trying to get 80 year olds in wheel chairs who were half paralyzed to beat a rhythm on pots and pan lids with spoons, to a recording of 16 Candles, by the Crests. When I first started bringing in songs like Up A Lazy River and Me and My Shadow, the songs were way to NEW for most of the people. I ended up buying a book of popular music from the turn of the century, with songs like Bicycle Bill For Two, and The Band Played On. The thing that I find most beautiful is when someone in the nursing home requests a song I don't know, and I ask them if they want to sing it. That sometimes starts a firestorm, and everyone is excited because they are getting a chance to sing one of their own songs. I had an experience one time, when the patients turned the program into a patient-led sing-along of old popular songs I'd never heard of. They were still singing, when I walked down the hallway to leave. When I sing with the Gospel Messengers, we've invited people to come up and lead a song with us doing the backup, which is as exciting as Heaven. If you draw upon the repertoire of those danged singer/songwriters, it's best to do songs that relate to a time in the past that the patients can respond to.

Finally, if you are a folk singer, no one need to tell you what your audience wants. Your audience will tell you that. You can usually get a good feel for what they will respond to after the first couple of songs. After you finish singing (and before you start) go over and sit with some of the people and talk to them (and let them tell you their stories.) Their stories are often far more interesting than any of the songs you end up singing.

After singing for a group with a completely paralyzed woman sitting in a wheel chair directly in front of me, I awakened the next morning with the start of a song in my head. The woman could show no facial expression, and couldn't move, except for one finger which she tapped in rhythm to the music.

The line was: "And somewhere inside her, there's still that young girl, with a tortoise-shell comb in her hair."

Don't be put off by people who can't applaud, or even smile. Somewhere inside there, there is still a young man or woman who will smile, if only inwardly, as the memories come back with a song.

Go out and sing for these people. They will give you far more than you could ever give them.

Jerry Rasmussen