Mastering the art of listening.

Many years ago, I avoided visits to nursing homes. Especially to memory care units. It was depressing. Bad for my morale. A funny thing has happened over the years. Gradually. I became enchanted. By the communication skills of the dementia-riddled. I learned to listen. To understand and speak their multiple and unique languages. I have a little more difficulty with the first language of my Italian true love. I resort to English far too much. Since she speaks fluent English. I rely too much on her. But the dementia speakers rely on me. I have to put forth the effort. And that’s good. Really, we all need more effort. In learning how to communicate. With each other. Anyway, I’m fascinated. That I’ve learned the rudiments of a second language. Unexpectedly. Maybe it’s that I practice. Really, dementia has become a common language. It can be learned. Even by language dumbbells like me. All it takes is practice, practice and more practice. Believe me. Dementia is a beautiful language. Though maybe it’s that I have mastered the art of listening. --Jim Broede