My journey of volunteering at the Mansion, an assisted care facility,  has been a deeply personal one, filled with joy and fulfillment. Every minute spent there has been a rewarding experience for nearly ten years.

Together with the Army of Good, we’ve raised substantial funds to enhance the Mansion, an assisted care facility. Our contributions have included a van for transportation, air conditioners for comfort, chairs for seating, TV computers for entertainment,  fans for cooling, and essential items like underwear, clothes, socks, towels, toothpaste, soap, and shampoo.

We’ve also fulfilled over 40 Amazon Wish Lists, bringing art supplies, recreational games, books, CDs, Memory Care tools and activities, and electronic devices like laptops, iPads, and phones.

We helped hundreds of residents. Maria’s signing up to teach art made the experience more meaningful to me. The residents adore her.

These resources have significantly improved the lives of the residents at the Mansion, the only Medicaid facility North of New York City in the vast state of New York.

My meditation and Maria’s art classes, which she taught since before the pandemic, have been joys in both our lives.  They still are.

So have the people I met at the edge of my life I had the honor of profiling and writing about. We provided the mansion with medical equipment throughout the pandemic to ensure safety and follow the many new state regulations. I heard so many beautiful stories.

I’ve said goodbye to so many beautiful friends.

I have promised to be open about my work at the Mansion, and I will do that now.

I’m not leaving my job at the Mansion—I won’t do that to the people who have come to love me,  Maria, and especially Zinnia. I don’t have any idea what the new owners are planning. I’m a volunteer; it’s not my business.

Whatever happens, the Mansion was and is a rich experience of love and compassion. It was a great gift to me and to many others.

 

The Mansion is a Medicaid facility in a beautiful old Cambridge Mansion.

It’s a beautiful building, and I knew it would be a ripe target for a new buyer one day.

Medicaid facilities are almost all in danger because Medicare and Medicaid face medical costs that are not being reimbursed to keep up with rising healthcare costs; many are losing money, many have shut down, and Wall Street investment companies have purchased many and are converting them to Assisted care and retirement facilities that cater to wealthier older people.

Wealthy older Americans—a rapidly growing number—can afford to pay much more than Medicaid residents and charge much more.

My life here has been tied up in the Mansion for years.

Izzy was my first therapy dog, Red was my second, and Zinnia was my third. The Mansion was a critical element in the formation of the Army of Good, and we did a lot of good and still do. The previous owners welcomed me and my dogs, made me feel at home, connected me to staff members, and fully supported my work.

There was hardly a week in those years that I wasn’t at the Mansion.

Late last year, the Mansion was sold to a New York-based company that purchased assisted care facilities and retirement homes. I have never spoken to anyone in the company, and no one has spoken to me.

Many people I am close to and have worked with have left and am leaving. None of them has told me why, and I haven’t asked anyone.

The old owners left without saying goodbye; as a volunteer, no one at the Mansion is obligated to speak to me at all.

I have no information about the future, but the atmosphere has changed, and the tension level has risen.

Some people at the Mansion have tried to call the company for answers but have not received any calls back or new information.

I’m not into gossip and speculation. That’s all I know, and I will stick with these people – the residents and aides –  unless I’m asked or told to leave.

Today, I learned that a new arrival to the Mansion—I won’t use his name—arrived without clothing and was walking around holding up his pants with one hand.

I met him in his room, and he told me about his pants and shirt sizes. He said he ended up being homeless; it was a long story. I didn’t ask.

Tomorrow, I’ll bring him socks, a sweater, a cap, and a belt. I was grateful to hear of his predicament; that’s what I do. I’ve had very few requests recently that are that severe. I went out and returned with three pairs of pants and three shirts, all of his size.

He was profoundly grateful, and I will be back with other things he needs.

Almost everyone I  have worked with in the past few years is gone. The Mansion Fund is open and still needs support (PayPal, jon@bedlamfarm., or Mansion Fund,  P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, New York, or Venmo, Jon Katz@Jon-Katz-13.

Today, in Meditation class, I sensed people needed cheering up.  There was a lot of tension in the air. The activities director I’ve been working closely with is gone; she left last week. I just found out when I arrived today.

 

 

I said I’d bring some books to the two class members with the sweetest smiles. Deb and Bette won, and I’m glad I got my portrait camera. Only four people showed up; nobody there knew that I was coming. I told the activities director I was coming, but she was already gone.

On the way out, Debbie ran into Maria, who had come to help me deliver the new resident’s clothes.  She loved Maria’s art class and my Meditation Class.

She threw her arms around Maria, and the love the two had for one another (and for me, to be honest) put me in tears. I hope the sadness I feel is both unwanted and unnecessary.