At the Mansion, time means something different.

Life moves slowly and deliberately there. It is often quiet, punctuated by the crises of life in assisted care – trips to doctors, to the hospital, to nursing homes. Sometimes people, neighbors, friends, return, sometimes not. Sometimes they come back, and are different.

At meals, the dining room is quiet, there is little conversation.

The days revolve around meals and medical issues, most people move slowly and deliberately, almost in slow motion. Food is important.

The activity room is always open, the TV is almost always on. There is an activity every day, arts, crafts, talks, drawing, sketching, painting, puzzles. The residents sit around a small table and work together, others nap on the big sofas.

The staff is always circulating, always moving, checking, laughing and cajoling or consoling. There are many needs to meet. They say that as people get older, some get more childlike, the circle turns. I see that sometimes.

This Thursday,  Maria will teach a crafts class to Mansion residents at Bedlam Farm, and next week I will teach a poetry workshop  at the Mansion along with Jackie Thorne, a local poet.

I ordered six beginner books of poetry and will get some more at Battenkill Books.

At the Mansion, Alice has lunch, rests, and then in late afternoon, she goes to the Great Room and sorts through a pile of magazines. She says it doesn’t really matter what they are about, she just likes to  browse through them. When I came up to her with my camera, she laughed shyly, as she always does.

Alice moves very carefully, very slowly, her balance always an issue. When I see her, I always take her hand and walk with her.

“You take a lot of photographs,” she said, “what do you do with them all?” Alice has heard about the blog, but not actually read it, she doesn’t go online, or use a computer. She loves the letters she gets (11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y. 12816).

She is coming to visit the farm in a week with a group of the Mansion residents. They are going to make something with Maria. And she is my date when we go to a play in November. My sense of Alice is that she is at peace, at home with herself, most of the fights of life behind.

She has an easy smile, and a quiet way.

I told her about the blog, and the Army of Good, and her eyes widened. “They must be such nice people,” she said, “to care about us.” They are.

At the Mansion, a sense of the now. Yesterdays crop up now and them, but mostly fade, or are recalled in private. Few people talk about the future, it feels sometimes like a dark and empty place.

There is laughter at the Mansion, and love and memory, and as with people anywhere, gossip and intrigue. Some quarrels. Everyone misses their family, living and gone. There is much talk of who visits and who can’t or won’t. I am shocked by how many of the residents have not heard from their family members or seen them in a long time.

I should not be surprised, I suppose, or judge anyone. I ran away from my family a long time ago and have rarely seen any of them.  Several residents have told me that they have no idea where their children live, they can’t find them and never hear from them.

Memory is a fragile thing here, for some it is beyond reach, for others something that can sometimes be retrieved.

I love drifting through the Mansion in the late afternoon with my camera, there is always life to capture there.

There is also a sense of relief, of release, nothing to prove, just a sense of letting go of so many of the burdens of life. Some of the good genes die as we get older, some of the bad ones too, I think.

Time is different there, but sometimes sweeter. Life moves slowly, like a late summer stream, but still beautifully.

If you want to contribute to the work at the Mansion, you can send a check to P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or to paypal, [email protected]. Please note the money is for the Mansion. Thanks.

Here is a list of Mansion residents who wish to receive mail or gifts or messages: Brother Peter, Winnie, Jean, Ellen, Mary, Gerry, Sylvia, Jane, Diane, Alice, Jean, Madeline, Joan, Allan, William, John K, Helen, Connie, Bob, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, Dorothy, Tim, Arthur, Guerda, Brenda, John Z.