Before the pandemic, my therapy dogs and I visited the Mansion at least twice a week or more; we would walk up and down the halls, upstairs and down, knocking on doors and asking if anyone wanted a visit from me or the dog.

I was constantly running clothes, shoes, toothpaste, and sneakers to the Mansion and visiting my network of thrift and consignment shops.

This was a powerful experience; I got to know many residents well, learned about their problems and needs, and got powerful fuel for the Army of Good, whose warriors rallied to their support.

Then the pandemic came, and the  Mansion was closed on and off for nearly two years.  My connection was broken and ended up being mostly on the phone and raising money for anti-bacterial devices and masks. The Mansion was in perpetual upheaval.

I had to get out of their way.

(At The Bottom: See Mansion Fund Donations. The fund is getting low.)

I had also gotten to know the aides, who knew the residents better than anyone and would alert me when someone was in need. I had some powerful friendships with the staff.

Many of the residents are shy about asking for help.  Some are confused and ailing. Some are broke, or without family support. And many of the aides left.

Many of the residents I knew were gone by the end of the pandemic, and so were many of the staff people I depended on. Some residents had died during the pandemic of other causes, and some were taken home by their families.

It was sometimes difficult to know who to communicate with; there were so many changes.

I began rebuilding my connections – I needed to know the aides and the residents well to help them understand what they needed – by experimenting with a men’s group (that failed) and starting a meditation class.

The class was as instantly successful as the men’s group was not, but I kept having to cancel the meetings for doctor’s appointments and surgery.

But this was interrupted by several months of medical work on my foot. I’ve become very attached to that class and the people in it, and I knew they were agitated by the news of my surgeries and feared that Zinnia and I might not return.

This week, I’m returning to my Mansion work with a vengeance on three fronts.

My meditation classes are regular a gain; the next one is tomorrow morning. Activities Director Paryese Bates Becker and her assistant Alyne Mayer are wonderful to the residents and easy for me to work with.

That makes all the difference. Patrese and Alyne know the residents well and can guide me to the ones who really need to see a dog or just talk to someone. I’ve learned how to do that.

Both have become friends, we talk openly and easily, and they are learning how to use me, and I am learning how to help them. My plans for returning to the Mansion are strong and are succeeding, despite the best efforts of my foot to thwart them.

Secondly, once or twice a week, I make the rounds of the hallways again, visiting the unseen, the residents who rarely come out of their rooms, many of whom I have never met.

And thirdly, I’ll be visiting the Memory Care Unit once or twice a week. Zinnia is coming with me to help with this work.

I called today about the visit to the Unseen. Mostly I wanted to go into the rooms of people I didn’t know,  hadn’t talked to, and had no easy way to help them if they needed help.

Many of the residents in assisted care feel forgotten and abandoned by the outside world. I see my work and blog as a way of their being seen again by their families, friends, and the outside world.

I want them to know that someone out there is seeing them, hearing them, thinking of them.

Today, Alyne, me, and Zinnia went door to door, paying special attention to the people who rarely came out but needed a visit. That was wonderful and successful. After that, we went to Memory Care so the residents could see Vinnia. They adored her; even those who rarely came out rushed out to meet and touch her.

As always, she responded with patience, love, and grace.

I am very drawn to the memory care work and have been ever since I started volunteering at the Mansion. It is a fascinating and challenging thing to learn to communicate with people who have lost their Memory and their history.

I went to the Mansion with Maria today; she taught her art class and had the largest crowd I’ve ever seen with a volunteer at a Mansion Activity event. She and I are very drawn to going there; it is essential to both of us.

Once again, I was mobbed with residents who wanted to know how I was, if I was OK, and when I was returning regularly. That is right now, I said, beginning this week, assuming my food is healing the way it seems. I told them I was fine, and I am.

I had no trouble walking up and down the hallways for an hour or two. It felt great to meet the new residents, listen to their histories and needs, and watch them melt with love when they saw Zinnia.

Zinnia is my pathway, my gateway, my way in the door. She melts hearts, stirs memory, and connects me to the residents in a way that would otherwise be difficult. You can see it in the photos. They reach out to her, touch her, talk to her, and pat her for long minutes. She heals something in them, brings something back, and lets something out.

Their memories may be lost, but their hearts and feelings are as strong as ever. Zinnia and I know how to talk to them; I don’t want to miss or waste any more time reaching through the wall and getting to their souls.

They may not know my name, but they know me, and they know Zinnia, and they know that I will show up and show up again, even if life sometimes gets in the way. I want them to know I’m back and intend to stay back.

I was deeply touched by how happy they were to see me today, how worried they were about me, and how strong my connection to them is with your generous help.

She was exhausted at the end of our visits, but in Memory, I figured out the best way to interact with the residents was to sit up on a sofa, bring them to sit next to her, and just let them touch and pat her and talk to her. I could see how powerful an experience that was for her and how much it meant to them.

So at least once a week, in the late morning, we will become familiar with the Mansion. I’m thrilled to begin renewing my close ties to the Mansion and the people there.

I’ve learned so much about helping older people and the community with people who have lost their Memory and some of their identity. I’m thrilled to be back, to be seen, to be known, and to learn.

___

Things are coming together again. I was nearly mobbed by residents who needed things – one needed a TV, another some pajamas, another a wristwatch, and another some music disks.

I could use some Mansion support. If you can and want to help, you can donate via Paypal, [email protected] and Venmo, Jon Katz@Jon-Katz-13. Or via check, Jon Katz, Mansion Support, P.O.Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

Help me help them.

The fund is pretty low. Thanks for your support.