Drivin'
Old Dixie Down
by Siu Wai Stroshane
A few years ago, when I was in the hospital for depression, I went
through the daily schedule that all the patients had to go through. The tests
were bizarre, but the group discussions were ok. Still, something was missing.
When we weren't watching the OJ trial on TV, we just sat around talking, and
sometimes not to each other. I missed my piano, even though I had chosen to come
there.
One Sunday afternoon as I lay on my bed, groggily counting the lines on
my bedspread, I suddenly heard strange sounds outside my door. The jingle of a
tambourine, the rattling of sticks and small drums, and the silvery ringing of a
triangle. What on earth--? Wide awake, I got up and opened my door.
A young woman was unloading a bag full of small rhythm instruments of all
kinds. She also had a guitar. People were gathering around her and eagerly
choosing their instruments. When we were all settled, she introduced herself as
Stephanie, and handed around songbooks so we could sing our favorite songs. And
we did. We thumped and tapped along. We nodded our heads and tapped our toes. We
clapped and laughed, and like magic, our boredom and droopy spirits drifted away
like a cloud.
When it was my turn, I asked to borrow Stephanie's guitar and led the
ragtag group in a rousing rendition of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie
Down." Never mind that I was an Asian woman--in that moment, I felt like
Dylan or Baez up a big stage, under bright lights. By the last chorus we were
howling with joy:
"The niiiiight they drove ol' Dixie down...
And all the bells were
ringin'..."
The bells sure rang for me, and afterwards I thanked Stephanie for
helping me feel so good. That day I experienced firsthand the power of music
therapy. I'll never forget it.
Siu
Wai Stroshane
e-mail:
swstroshane@cs.com