“Helping one person might not change the whole world, but it could change the world for one person.”  – Unknown.

The Mansion Men’s Group had its second meeting this afternoon, and it was strange, uneasy, and full of promise. I can see the way forward now; I am seeing and hearing what these men, struggling at the edge of life in what is essentially a woman’s world, really want.

Last week, no one showed up. There was some buzzing this week, and one person showed up. But three others were hovering in the shadows.

One man – I’ll keep him nameless and call him “M,” showed up at the beginning, and he said seven others were on their way. He had spoken to them, and they were eager to join a men’s group.

None of the others showed up, but two of the men approached me on my way out, was waiting in the big room, and a second was waiting outside of my car. He said the others were a “bit shy, a bit nervous.”

I was surprised and disappointed at first, but that faded quickly. The conversation I had with M was beautiful, honest, and open and, he said, very helpful to him. “I’ve never spoken to anybody like this,” he told me.

It was another small turnout, but still, we had doubled the attendance in one week.

M asked me why I was there and said it was simple. I wanted to hear from other men about what they needed besides razor blades, deodorant, and sneakers in their lives and what emotional struggles came with living in assisted care.

He said our conversation was the most open he had ever had with another human being, and what he and the other men most wanted, he said, was the chance to be that open with other men. He said they just wanted to talk, honestly and openly.

They live in a women’s world; they are all happy living at the Mansion, but the aides are women,n, and so are almost all the residents.

“We are surrounded by people here,” he said, and “the staff is very loving, but sometimes I just get lonely for somebody to talk to.”

The men rarely speak to one another and are never open up about their lives. M talked about his failed marriage and loving parents “and good life. I really had a good life. I’m good now.”

I know him reasonably well; I’ve bought him some toiletries and sneakers and helped get him a TV for his room. I think this can really be meaningful to the men in the Mansion.

I am reminded of how closed up many of these men are; some I’ve never seen outside of the dining room, and others are described as silent and socially isolated.

M and I – and the men waiting outside – said they wanted to talk about their lives, family struggles, fears, sexual fantasies, and questions and even talk about games like chess and checkers that might be more suited to them than arts and crafts projects.

These men showed me their vulnerability, were frank about their loneliness, were honest about their shrinking but powerful wishes for the future.

These are difficult things for many men to share.

They each promised me that more men would be coming, they just wanted some time to get used to it and reassure each other. M said he would reassure the others that the group would be okay.

It was valuable, satisfying, and even beautiful to see that what these men want is simple and achievable. They don’t want much, just a safe place to talk.

I’m sticking with it; my instincts tell me that the men’s group will succeed and take hold just like our weekly meditation meeting (tomorrow at ll a.m.), given time and patience.

As long as one person shows up or hangs out in the hallway or waits by my car shows up, I’m in.

I’m not going anywhere. M made me feel excellent about our fledgling men’s group; I know it can work.