Bringing Music to a Nursing Home: A Reflection

Playing piano and clarinet at the nursing home was one of those experiences that quietly stays with you. Our music director had impressed on us the importance of the work we were doing, but I had not yet understood. Walking in, I knew the residents were older and many were dealing with illnesses, but I don’t think I fully expected the atmosphere to feel as heavy as it did. A lot of people seemed tired or distant, like they were caught somewhere between discomfort and just trying to get through the day.

At first, I wondered if the music would even make a difference. Some residents had their eyes closed, others stared blankly ahead. But as I started playing, I noticed small changes. People perked up a little. Some started tapping their fingers or nodding along. A few even whispered to each other when they recognized a tune. One lady eventually began to sing along.

That shift in energy — from flat and quiet to just slightly more alive — was powerful. It made me realize how isolating it can be to live in a space where most of your days look the same, especially when you're not feeling well. Music gave people something to hold onto, even just for a few minutes. It brought a little bit of light into a place that felt kind of dim.

I think we underestimate how deeply music can affect people who are sick or aging. It’s not a cure, of course, but it’s comfort. It’s stimulation. It’s memory. It reminds people they’re human, not just patients or residents. Even if someone didn’t visibly respond, I like to think the sound reached them anyway, maybe brought them back to a different time — a happier moment, a familiar feeling.

This experience really shifted how I think about performance. It’s not about perfection or impressing anyone. In that room, it was about presence. About being there, sharing something real. I left feeling humbled and a little heartbroken, but also incredibly grateful that something as simple as playing piano and clarinet could offer even the smallest relief.

Music doesn’t fix everything. But in that setting, it softened something. And sometimes that’s more than enough.