For the past decade, I’ve done some therapy work for hospice, dementia units and assisted care facilities.

I usually breezed in and out, letting people hug or pet my therapy dogs and watch them smile.Then I left.  Except for the hospice work, I was rarely in any one place for more than 45 minutes and almost never got to know anyone too well. My job was to bring the dog and leave myself at the door.

It felt good, and the residents and patients love to see the dogs, it was important work, but over time, I was drawn to do more, to get more involved.

This work with dogs like Red is, in one way, easy.

I didn’t have to get to know anyone too well, didn’t have to put my own emotions on the line.

I left the hard work to the staff and the professionals. I was not too attached to the people who inevitably got sick or died.

This past year has jolted me into reaching deeper into my self and exploring my own humanity. I wanted to spent time in one place, not many, and stop hiding behind the dog, or the inevitable pain and loss and death that also inhabits these institutions, and that is a part of life.

I wanted to know people, to touch them, help them, and make a difference in their lives and fill the holes in their lives.I didn’t wish to hide from them, I wanted them to know me.

In an odd sense,  Donald Trump was a great gift to me, love him or not, his election provoked me into choosing between a life of lament, argument and frustration or a life that was suddenly serious about doing good in my remaining years rather than running my mouth on Facebook or Twitter. Or simply letting people pet my dogs.

Everywhere around me, on both sides of the great divide, were angry and wounded people. I wanted to go around that morass or perhaps rise above it and actually do something tangible. I had the revelation that you didn’t need to be a saint to do good. So I qualified.

it was a good decision for me. The Mansion residents and the refugees and immigrants I have met have enriched my life, deepened my empathy and humanity, and opened me up to emotion and love. We have become close, there is much love between us, or at least, some of us.

I surprised myself with my own energy and focus, I have driven thousands of miles in this work, devoted many hours, and yes,  spent a lot of my own money.

The work continues and deepens. By hanging in there with these people, I have found a new family, a new home, where I am as comfortable as I have ever been, perhaps because I am needed and can make a tangible difference. And because I never run away from need.

It’s not just matter of walking the hallways with a sweet dog, my heart and soul and energy must also come along.  Morgan Jones, a case manager at the Mansion, reminds me from time to time that it isn’t really the money that matters, it’s me as well.

And another gift emerged, the Army Of Good, a remarkable group of invisible but great-hearted people who have formed around my writing and my mission to join me in this commitment. I would have gotten nowhere without you.

By knowing the residents and the staff,  we have learned to trust one another. I have learned what it is that people really need.  They love Red for sure, but the work transcends that now.

When they run out of soap. When they need to talk to one of their children. When they are blue and need flowers or a hug. When they need letters, or books, or photos from the outside world. When they need pencils and crayons and fans or air conditioners, or a ride on a boat, or a CD version of the Bible, or clothes, or a trip to a park, or ice cream, or a hug from a dog or some yarn or patterns.

I am not playing God, or altering the sometimes hard realities of their lives, I am simply filling the holes in them if I can, listening to them, honoring the very real boundaries that exist between myself and them, and that should remain between us. Knowing what not to do is often as important as knowing what it is I can do.

And sometimes, the best thing to do is nothing.

This week, some important things are arriving at the Mansion, thanks to the Army Of Good.

A reclining chair for Art, whose back and legs cause him so much pain. A lift chair for Jane, confined to a wheelchair and in urgent need of help standing up. Today, Peggie’s air conditioner will be installed. Tomorrow, Bill’s air conditioner will be installed, their rooms get warm in the sun.

I discovered during our Pizza Party lunch on September 11 that the air conditioner in the Mansion kitchen had broken some time ago, and could not be immediately replaced (the Mansion is a very loving place, but it is also a Medicaid facility, money is hard to come by, subsidies are being drastically cut). The broken air conditioner is still in the kitchen window, boarded up.

Kitchens are hot by nature and design, this was was roasting the staff, who are especially dedicated to the residents and loved by them. I went to the Mansion/Refugee Fund where all of the donations go and purchased a new 28,000 BTU Frigidaire 230 volt window mounted Heavy-Duty unit with temperature sensing and remote control. The unit cost $799.85.

I also purchased a three-year Squaretrade extended protection plan. If the unit breaks down for any reason, someone will come to fix it. That cost $27.44.

As with all purchases, I checked with Kevin, the maintenance director, and  with the Mansion staff. I also read all of the available reviews online and checked with a consumer advocacy group.

A lot of good, a lot of money. I don’t have a precise total, but we have  spent tens of thousands of dollars this year on good deeds for vulnerable people. That is a lot of good. The idea is for lots of people to send small donations. They add up and they go where people can see the results. That’s what much of my photograph is about.

I’ve kept the fund-raising quiet for a month or so, I wanted to give people a rest, and there were many needs arising from the hurricanes. Next week, I will return to my work with the refugees, RISSE has been quiet for a few weeks. Next Thursday I will begin meeting again with refugees and immigrants in need. My work at the Mansion has continued and will continue.

At the moment, there is $1,500 in my Mansion/ Refugee fund, we have done much good this summer. If anyone wishes to contribute to this work, you can do so by sending a check to Jon Katz, P.O, Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or through Paypal, [email protected]. Please mark checks or payments “Mansion/Refugee Fund.” Donations to my blog, which support all of this work and my picture-taking, are separate.

I am more committed to this work than ever, now that I see how effective and efficient it is. Thank you for your support.