Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Dating back to the days of the Greek mathematician and inventor, Archimedes, is that cry of astonishment, of jubilation, or excitement, ‘I’ve found it!!!!’.
It was often associated with the discovery of gold in the nineteenth century. In the USA there are at least 18 states with town or geographic locations called Eureka. It appears on the State Seal of California. In Australia, we associate it with the Victorian gold rush days. It includes the Eureka Stockade, the flag of independence, and the rebellion against the unfair State taxes of the day. It is an exclamation that is part of our cultural fabric.
Who amongst us has experienced a Eureka moment, a discover, a realisation, a solution that may have been hiding in plain sight? Today, I write of a Eureka moment that I was privileged to witness. It was a moving experience that opened a door, and brought great joy to the person involved.
It was December, 1965, in the Occupational Therapy section of The Prince of Wales Hospital, Randwick. I was there as part of the process of being fitted with a prosthetic arm, having been involved in a farm accident earlier that year. There were about eleven of us, amputees and stroke victims that were under the care and guidance of a young Occupational Therapist, Margaret. Each morning she would gather us together in the corner of what looked like an old army gymnasium or barracks for morning tea, and to give us an outline of the day ahead. Looking back, we certainly were a group of varying individual challenges for her.
But there was one of our group that she found particularly challenging and frustrating. Her name was Hilda. She was a stroke victim. Apart from suffering one sided mobility loss, she had also lost the power of speech. Margaret was getting good outcomes for Hilda’s mobility, but had struck a brick wall with her speech loss. She was searching desperately for the trigger, the key that would start the recovery process and her research indicated there were possibilities around music.
Then on the morning of December 16th, Margaret rushed up to our group and excitedly herded us into a corner of the gymnasium around an old piano. Then Hilda was wheeled in; she seemed very agitated, even emotional. It was getting close to Christmas, so Margaret settled down at the piano, and softly started to play Silent Night. What followed was spellbinding. Hilda was in tears as she sang two verses of the carol in perfect pitch and a clear voice. By the end of the second verse, everything else in the gym has ceased, and all had gathered in absolute awe, applauding and cheering wildly. There was not a dry eye in the room. The tune had transported Hilda back to her childhood, to the early days of her speaking ability. She sang Silent Night in perfect German, her native tongue. The family had migrated to Australia when she was only six years old.
For Margaret, this was ‘Eureka’, the key to the door. For everyone else, it was an experience beyond belief.