This week, I was sitting with several of the residents talking – we were doing some reading exercises – and one of them (I’ll call her Sheila, not her name)  asked if I could talk to her privately.  We went off to a nearby sofa, and she spoke hesitantly, and seemed about to cry. She was a very shy and quiet women, I had not spoken with her much, I told her it was okay to talk to me, I would listen.

Sheila was in her 80’s frail and soft-spoken. I didn’t know much about her.

She said had been getting letters from people for months, from all over the country and she loved them. Every morning, she took them to a hallway with bright light and read them, shared them, they were all in a pile in one of her drawers.

Then she was still.

So is there a problem?, I asked, curious.

She said she couldn’t answer them because she didn’t have any envelopes, or enough envelopes, nor the money to buy more. She needed the money she got each month, she send some to her granddaughter, who was always in trouble.

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Working at the Mansion this year, and with the RISSE refugees and immigrants, my philosophy about helping has evolved as I have come to know the patients. At the Mansion, people still find me odd and a bit confusing. I’m not a doctor, I’m not a staffer, or a family member, or a typical volunteer. 

In a way, this is the story of me life. I guess I’m somewhat odd. I’m my own category. I’m not sure how to categorize myself, but I can tell from everyone’s reactions that they are still getting used to me, the staff as well.

i do feel very welcome there now.

The residents were shy at first, very reluctant to acknowledge need or vulnerability, wary of asking for anything. I think many are afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing, they get embarrassed. Red is a great ambassador, even the residents who don’t know my name know of Red and open up to him.

Part of this is pride, these are people who have worked all of their lives – just about every one – they are used to taking care of themselves, even though they have experienced some hard times as they age. These are usually people who never asked for anything in their lives, country people who are fiercely independent, now almost completely dependent.

Part of it is fear – it takes time to trust a stranger, even one with a dog, some worry that they will have to pay for the things I get for them, and they don’t have much if any, money. Typically, they get some cash once a month, either from family or Social Security, much of which can go for room and board. This is not the old age they expected to have.

They get used to giving up things they once took for granted.  They have lost almost everything they loved.

My idea is to look for the small things, the threads of life, the holes that appear when there is little disposable income and a growing list of needs.

The Mansion takes care of the basics – food and comfort and daily activities, medications, but they don’t have the resources or the staff to do much more. The residents can often become passive and accepting.

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You could ask the people in the office, I told Sheila.

They would give you envelopes. Sometimes I do, she said, but I hate to ask them, they are so busy, and sometimes they run out, and people send me beautiful letters and I would love to send them a nice card back from time to time.

I translated in my head: Sheila was shy, perhaps embarrassed. She doesn’t ask for things.

Would it be possible, she asked?, for me to get her some nice notecards, she said she would pay me back over time when her money came in monthly. She knew I had helped another resident get some brassieres.

I told her she didn’t need to pay me back, and I thanked her for telling me what she needed, it was helpful. She seemed surprised, but didn’t argue. Sheila told me she always loved to write letters, she was, she said, once the family historian, keeping everyone informed of the news about one another.

Over the next day or so, I saw this was a common problem. Most of the residents didn’t have envelopes or stamps, some could not afford to buy them. The staff at the Mansion is always helpful with things like that, but there are many needs and expenses and some of the residents had just given up on responding to people. It bothered them also that they didn’t have special notecards.

This is one of those things that I had completely missed, and would not have noticed until Sheila asked. It’s one of the things I take for granted in life, one of those basic necessities I have never been without. Life is not like that in elder care facilities, they lose many things the rest of us take for granted.

People were almost desperate for notecards with envelopes. Monday, I’m going to go get some stamps, in case that is a problem.

Some people in the Army Of Good sent me some notecards to pass out and when I brought them in, I was swamped with people who saw them in my hands and wanted them, they spotted them from yards away. This is something they need, a civilizing and connecting tool.

These little things are the threads of life, messages and letters are a way to connect to the outside world and not be forgotten. These are the holes in their lives, usually small, that I try to fill and look to fill. I went to Battenkill Books and bought some nice notecards.

I’ll bring them in Monday and hand them out discreetly. There are a lot of letter writes in there who don’t get to write letters.

Along with books, writing letters is also an especially healthy activity, it gets people away from the ever-intrusive TV’s and thinking and creating.

I’ll also start looking for less expensive ones than the one I bought, I wanted these to be special.

If any of you have extra notecards lying around, please free to send them to me: Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205 State Route 22, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

I used to drive around with Red to visit different elder care facilities, but I see now that this work was limiting for me. I never got to know people well enough to help them with the lost threads and small holes in their lives.

I understand that it takes a long time for people to trust me enough to ask me for the things they need.

The people there will love these cards and appreciate the stamps,  and I will have the pleasure of seeing them sitting all over the Mansion and some of you good people may get the pleasure of receiving letters back.