WASHINGTON, D.C. – Dante Ciolfi unzips his guitar case in a courtyard of the Veterans Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
"I'm about to tune my guitar," he says.
He is getting ready to play some songs for patients in the hospice wing of the hospital. Ciolfi is a musician volunteer with Musicians On Call or MOC, a non-profit that brings live music to hospital patients nationwide, both bedside and virtually via zoom. The group's motto is "delivering the healing power of music." When Ciolfi isn't volunteering, he teaches computer science to graduate students.
He meets up with Ellen Morris, another volunteer with MOC. She trains musician volunteers on hospital protocols and guides them from room to room.
Once they reach the hospital's hospice unit, Morris takes the lead and knocks on a patient's room door. "Hi there, how are you doing today? My name is Ellen with Musicians on Call," she says, "I have my friend Dante here that would love to play a song for you today, would that be OK?"
The patient, 93-year old Army veteran Lawrence Ludden, agrees. He is sitting in his room reading the newspaper, but he's quick to extend his hand to visitors.
Ciolfi thanks Ludden for the sacrifices he's made then he adjusts his guitar and begins singing, "Desperado," by the Eagles.
Ludden's room is filled with sunlight. His daughter Eillen Ludden is here on her daily visit.
He's the father of 4 and his shelf is full of family pictures — five grandchildren, two great-grandkids, a picture of him and his late wife on their wedding day and a couple of pictures of Ludden with England's Prince Harry who visited the VA this past August.
Once the song ends, and with a smile on his face, Ludden claps and thanks the volunteers. He also shares a memory with visitors.
"When I was a young boy I played piano, I used to like to sing quite a bit on the stage and I was in some light operas," Ludden says. "You never told me that," Morris replies.
Making the rounds while feeling gratitude for veterans
The volunteers move on to the next patient's room.
Ellen Morris says Ciolfi is an excellent volunteer. "The first time he played a song, and I watched him watch the reaction of the patient, it was overwhelming for me to see him be overwhelmed," Morris says. She knew right then that he was perfect for the group's mission.
Ciolfi says that playing music for veterans bedside is profound. He tries to hold emotional space with the patient, he says, even with those who can't speak.
"When I play, I try to mentally establish a conduit," says Ciolfi, "so the energy is kind of flowing back and forth. And to me that is so special … that energy is powerful."
That's clear when he plays for Marine veteran John Fay, who is in bed and non-verbal. Fay taps his heart with his hand as he listens to the music.
"To me that signals that he felt the music," says Nicolette Rubin, a music therapist in charge of the music program at the VA Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
"I think he was grateful, he wanted to kind of keep the beat and feel it in his body, and his soul. I think he felt it in his heart," Rubin says, adding that music is not only uplifting to the spirit, but it's a restorative treatment that helps patients recover from and cope with emotional and physical trauma.
Ciolfi says he's witnessed a multitude of reactions to his music in patients. "A woman all of a sudden broke into tears," he says, "and at first I was wondering what's going on. But then a smile came on her face and it was like, no need for words."
U.S. Airforce veteran Sidney Nichols whispers yes, when volunteer Morris asks if he wants to listen to music. He served as a pararescue specialist for four years in Southeast Asia, including in Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines.
Nichols is in bed, his eyes half-closed, but when Ciolfi starts singing "Crazy Love," by Van Morrison, he perks up and taps his hand on his leg as he silently begins mouthing the song's lyrics.
"You know that song, don't you? You were singing along," says Morris. Nichols responds, "I like it."
When asked how much Ciolfi knows about each patient's medical condition or their life, he's quick to respond. "I don't know anything about their circumstances," Ciolfi says. "Technically, I could probably read it on the chart that is outside their room. I intentionally don't because I want to stay focused on the music."
Musicians On Call volunteers have performed for more than a million patients across the country since the organization was founded in 1999. Musician volunteers typically go into hospitals 3 to 4 times a month.
"I appreciate the opportunity to do it. You know, to me it's a gift," Ciolfi says.
His immigrant parents came from Italy, he says early on they drilled into him how lucky he is to be a U.S. citizen.
"Every single day I'm experiencing freedoms that other countries have no concept of," Ciolfi says.
And those freedoms, he says, are protected by our veterans.
"If I can do one tiny thing like play a song, my gosh, I'm there."
Editor's note: Since reporting this story U.S. Airforce veteran Sidney Nichols has died.
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