A Poignant Take On An All-American Aria

Post date: Nov 1, 2013 2:21:04 PM

A Poignant Take On An All-American Aria

In 1908 an obscure American tunesmith named Jack Norworth was riding the elevated in New York City when he saw a sign at the stop near the Polo Grounds that said “Baseball Game Today.” The thought of seeing a New York Giants ball game instead of going wherever he was headed stayed with him the rest of the day. He teamed up with his colleague Albert Von Tilzer and wrote a trivial little work that has remained in the public consciousness for more than 112 years: Take Me Out To The Ballgame.

Most people are well aware of the therapeutic benefits of music, and how serious music in particular has a beneficial effect on the human mind. Whether it is fostering the growth of an infant’s mind or exercising the synapses, plaques, and tangles of a forgetful octogenarian, music’s role as both mental exercise and cerebral nourishment cannot be underestimated. I offer you a very moving essay which illustrates this very well. It was written by Ms. Carrie Jackson of Evanston, Illinois.

The song was written in 1908, sixteen years before he was born. The words are simple but the melody jumps all over, making continuity difficult for my underdeveloped vocal cords. But he could always carry a tune, and for some reason it’s his favorite, so we sing it over and over.

Our repertoire used to be broader. Bye Bye Blackbird, Me and Bobby McGee, I’ve Been Working on the Railroad. But now, when I start those, he mumbles “idontknowthatone”even though I think he does.

It’s been three days since my last visit and I’m hoping things are stable. As I sign in at the nursing home, I try to ignore the stench of plastic, sanitary products, and institution food. Making my way to the Alzheimer’s unit, I take a deep breath to compose myself. I punch the code, and the doors swing open – he’s in the first room and I can immediately hear him yelling at the television. I shut it off, sit down on the bed, and take his hand.

“Is that better?” I ask. Although he doesn’t remember my name, he usually can recall my face and the yelling stops. “Where are we going?” he inquires, looking for me to answer that question and everything else that plagues his thoughts, or lack thereof. “On a field trip”, I reply, and unlock the wheelchair to turn him around. I push him down the hall and try to drown out the confused wails of the other residents. We make it to the main dining room, where there is an ancient, out-of-tune piano. Although it’s been more than a decade since I quit lessons, I open the music and start plucking. I look to him for a sign of recognition, to see if he can pick out the tune, but his eyes are blank. So I start singing:

Take me out to the ballgame…Take me out to the crowd…Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…I don’t care if I ever get back!...For it’s root, root, root for the home team…If they don’t win it’s a shame….For it’s One, Two, Three strikes you’re out!...At the old ballgame.

And even though he barely speaks, he chimes in. And even though he grew up in Boston, he shouts CUBBIES. And even though he’s been swearing all morning, he starts to smile. “Shall we sing it again?” And he nods, so we do. His smile has lifted my heart, and I sing a little louder this time. Soon we are shouting as loud as a soft-spoken 31-year-old woman and debilitated 85-year-old man can, and the others in the room look over and smile. After a few more rounds, he is exhausted. I hole his hand for a moment, and we sit before packing up the music and turning to leave.

I push him back to his room, and tell him that the Cubs have won two in a row and he still knows enough to be impressed. I get him settled, put West Side Story in his VCR, then kneel next to him. “I love you, Dad. More than anything. I’ll be back next week and we can play again.” And even though his eyes are following Maria dancing on his TV, he gives me a silent nod, and I think I see the hint of a smile on his face.

Thanks to Carrie for this beautiful essay. I’m sure Mr. Nortworth and Mr. Von Tilzer would echo that sentiment….