Search Results for: Madeline

The Mansion is a well-heated but big and drafty building, and the blood of the elderly is thin. They are vulnerable both to the heat and the cold, and what they wear matters.

Over the last two years, I learned that the most sensitive times are mid-summer and mid-winter, but the minute the nights start to cool I get requests for flannel sheets, sweaters, sweatshirts, heavier socks.

The other day, when I went outside to check on Bert and Georgianna in their Secret Garden, I found them shivering in the night chill. So I had a new idea for this year, I called two of my favorite consignment stores and asked them to put aside their best sweaters, flannel shirts, down vests, heavier socks for men and women.

I asked the Mansion to announce a Fall Sweater Festival today, Tuesday in the Activity room just before I did my weekly story reading. Everybody who could walk came, and some who couldn’t walk also came — a big crowd.

I picked up three bags on Friday and two more today – $135 altogether.

I’m strict about thrift shop and consignment store and don’t buy personal or undergarments. I was delighted with the selections that were waiting for me: a dozen sweaters, some sweatshirts, six flannel shirts, some wool vests and pullovers, eight warm blouses, some designer labels, some clothes from Orvis and L.L. Bean.

All were in excellent shape, no holes or missing buttons, all clean and fresh. I’ve learned a lot working with thrift shops and consignment stores, the ones I use regularly know me and understand what I need.

People sometimes send me boxes of used clothes that are torn and dirty, obviously things they want to throw out. I don’t use them; I take them to the Lions Club clothes drop-off. I would never give a Mansion resident anything I wouldn’t wear.

There was an SRO crowd waiting for me; the Festival was a great success. I took out the clothes from the bags one by one and held them up. The residents raised their hands if they were interested, and I brought the clothes around to the ones who couldn’t see or stand up.

The sweaters were a huge hit; I had a range of colors and material and thickness. I found myself in discussions about what would go with that, and different color matches.

I don’t think I ever got so many fervent thanks and hugs.

The residents were very generous with one another; they deferred to the residents who wanted something, or who were in the most need.

If they got too many things, they offered them to others, if someone was disappointed at not getting something, they brought the item to them.

There was a lot of need in that room.

Many didn’t have a sweater, or flannel pajamas or shirts.  Some had only one blouse.

They clutched their clothes on their laps, some of the aides came in to help them judge sizes who also tipped me off to those in greatest need – they got first dibs.

Madeline, who is from New York, loved some of the designer sweaters I got for $4. Peggie begged for the X-Large red down vest from L.L. Bean.

Becky, who was once a dog breeder, got the blouses she needs. Georgina got a big sweater that fit beautifully (I’m getting her a flannel nightgown.)

They traded fashion tips and recalled old times when they got to dress up in better clothes. I felt like I was at an outlet clothing sale; they were excited and engaged.

It was fun; it was rewarding.  We put some sweaters aside for the residents who weren’t there or couldn’t come. And I love knowing that everyone in the Mansion who wants a sweater got one.

I have come to love my consignment store friends; they care about the Mansion residents and put their best stuff aside for me.

The “festival” was a good idea, a great way of drawing people and getting them excited. And (blush) everyone was complimenting me on my taste. It’s going to a regular event, seasonal and more.

Thank you, consignment, ladies. And thanks, Army Of Good.

When my reading was over, everyone had brown plastic bags to put their new clothes in, they had all been neatly folded.

I took a few orders from people with odd sizes or a particular need, and I’m thinking of some future “festivals” –  maybe one for scarves, one for shoes, one for hats. I’m thinking of scarves next.

They all asked for Fate, but I didn’t bring her, I just had too many things to carry. I need to get Tim some black socks, he’s been invited to a wedding. I never disappoint Time.

Thanks for your contributions to me (via Paypal, jon@bedlamfarm, or by check, Jon Katz, Mansion Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.)

Once again you made possible something that is wonderful, keeping these people warm in winter. Thanks.

(In the first version of this post, I forgot to add how people can contribute to my clothing festival if they wish. You can contribute via Paypal, [email protected], or by check, Jon Katz, Mansion Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.)

Bert and Georgianna have returned to the Secret Garden, after various trips and detours and distractions. It was good to see them there. They have a lot of fun and they look like they’ve been there for many years, right in that spot. Friendship is so important at the Mansion.

There was a sudden uptick in requests for help from the Mansion.

I did my weekly reading and there were 18 residents in the room, a record. I read books and told ghost stories. Peggie said she has seen two demons, and Madeline said that growing up in New York in the Bronx, there was nothing she hasn’t seen.

I asked if they needed anything this Fall, I had a hunch they did. Every single hand went up when I asked if they needed sweaters or warmer shirts. So I alerted my classy Thrift Shop network and am buying $100 worth of sweaters for distribution Friday.

Colder weather is just around the corner.

Georgianna needs some open-toed sandals, they’re on the way.

On Monday, the Mansion Memory Care Center (dedicated to the Army Of Good) is opening. There is a soothing room for dementia and other memory patients who get agitated. They need to hear soothing music, touch soft stuffed animals and fabrics.

I was asked if I could buy a good-sized lava lamp, anything soothing or calming for the unit.

I bought $130 worth of anxiety and stress art, rubber balls,  squeeze and calming toys and lights, lamps and dairies designed for elderly memory care patients by psychologists.

By Monday the first Memory Care patients will have the tools they need in the special Sensory/Calming Room.

On Friday, I’m collecting the $100 worth of sweaters and fleece jackets for the Fall.

If you wish to contribute, you can do so via Paypal, [email protected] or by check, Jon Katz, Mansion, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. It’s never dull around here, which is a blessing.

It means needs are being met.

The aides who work so hard at the Mansion are a special breed – nurturing, patient, gentle. This evening, during Bingo, I took a walk through the hallways while Maria called a bingo game.

Tia was helping Alice sit down on a sofa, making sure she was comfortable, talking to her soothingly and softly. It was a portrait of the kind of intimacy I so often see between the Mansion aides and the residents.

Tia is special, she seems so comfortable and natural in this week, I saw Alice lean over to hold her hand, then to kiss it.

__

For those of you who wish to write to the Mansion residents, here is a list of the residents who would love to receive your letters. Some can respond, some can’t, I never ask them if they got the letters or are answering them, I don’t want them to feel pressured. But I can tell you they love to get them, it tells them that people in the outside world know they are there and care about them.

The address of the Mansion is 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. The resident’s list is: Ellen, Matt, Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Carol, Alice, Jean Madeline, Helen, Georgianna, Barbara, Alanna, Linda, Annette, Peggie, Becky, Bert, Dorothy, Tim, Ben, Art, John, Jim, Wayne, Georgiann, Ruth, Julie.

Thanks for writing to them. It means a lot.

Listening to weather forecasts, I started worrying about the Mansion residents this morning. I went over there twice to see if anyone needed anything. I called several times.

I bought John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart DVDs to Jim, who was sitting outside on the porch chatting to Georgina. He loves being outside, even in the heat, and he loves old Westerns. I bought a light shirt for Wayne, three sets of summer pajamas, and a sack full of summer blouses from a thrift shop.

Georgina said she had everything that she needed, she was just looking for a man, and she winked at me. I like Georgina, she is feisty and has a quick and sure sense of humor.

It was nice seeing them out there, chatting. They have become friends.

I have been working with the elderly for some years now, and one thing the weather people say that is not hype is that this kind of heat is very dangerous to the elderly, they are almost always the bulk of its victims.

The Mansion is quite aware of that and makes sure people get water and rest there. I was worried.

But the residents weren’t.

Peggie yelled at me for getting her the wrong books, she wanted Word Search books, not word crossword puzzles. I got a computer game for the son of one of the Mansion aides, and a stuffed pig for the daughter of another.

I am conscious of the hard work these people do, and the low pay they earn, and I am careful to include them in my idea of helping out at the Mansion. They are quite heroic to me, calm and patient and caring.

I try to help them when I can, from buttons to cookies to things for their children.  Small things. Sometimes, I come across clothes that don’t fit the residents, and I give the aides first crack. They are happy to see them and get them.

Over the last few weeks, I bought some light pants and shorts and light nightshirts and T-shirts and sandals for the residents who needed them for the warm weather.

The Army Of Good has purchased a series of room air conditioners over the past two years  – everyone who wants or needs one has one – and the residents are especially grateful, the old wooden building can get very warm, especially in this heat.

I remember how hot those rooms were, and I could almost feel how they would have been today.

I was glad we got a window air conditioner for the aide’s office, I had the sense everyone was well, the air conditioners are especially important to elderly people, who are at particular risk in heat storms like this one.

The Army Of Good also purchased an 8,000 BTU unit for the Mansion kitchen, the cooks and staff were boiling in there in the summer. All in all, we purchased more than 12 indoor units.

It feels good to go over there. The new residents are figuring out who I am and are beginning to trust me. I’m excited about framing Sue Silverstein’s art for the Memory Care Center, Maria and I will do that this weekend, we’ve ordered the frames and boards online.

When I last went over there, just before 5 p.m. Tia and  Hollyanne,  two capable and vigilant aides, were on duty and said all was well. Everyone was comfortable and had what they need. Tomorrow will be much worse than today, I’ll keep checking.

When I got home, Maria was in her new “office” on the front porch, where she checks her e-mail and edits and publishes her videos, accompanied by various cats and dogs.

Jim went inside to watch his new DVD’s and Georgina went to the Great Room to read. Almost everyone else was in their rooms staying quiet and cool, there were six people in the Activity Room, now also air-conditioned, watching some of the new DVD movies the Army Of Good bought for them.

It was so comfortable and quiet in there, they all seemed so comfortable and were so fixated on the romantic comedy they were watching they barely registered my presence. Usually, Red comes in ahead of me to announce us. Nobody noticed he wasn’t there except Madeline.

She told me his collar was too tight.

This all made me feel peaceful and fulfilled. I thank you for sharing this journey with me and for making it possible. We made a lot of people safe and comfortable tonight, we might even have saved a life if the dire weather forecasts are to be believed.

I’ll stay on it, and I will sleep well tonight knowing they are all okay. We did good.

If you wish to contribute to the Mansion work, you can send a contribution in any amount to me via Paypal, [email protected], or by check, Jon Katz, Mansion Fund, P.O.    Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

And thanks for buying out the six DVD’s on the Amazon Mansion Wish List. They will be watching the movies by tomorrow night.

I taught my meditation class at the Mansion Thursday morning, we had our usual full table in the dining room.

I’ve decided to make the classes very real, and I choose a topic and we talk about it when the meditation is over. I want to talk about real things, not just amuse the residents who come, or distract them.

For all the activities, I rarely seem then wanting to talk about what’s really on their minds. And they are not often given the chance.

The Mansion does a great job of offering activities to the residents every day, usually more than once. The emotions or relationships of the residents are rarely, if ever, discussed. Activities tend to revolve around puzzles, cooking, large print word games, simple trivia, outings, sitting on the porch,  TV and music.

I am pleased and surprised by how much these meditations sessions mean to the residents. I thought they’d run from it.

When I arrive, they are all waiting for me in the dining room. We use the same table every week.

Sometimes, I am arrogant, I think I’m the only one pursuing a spiritual life, but all of the residents of the Mansion are deeply spiritual, they live in the shadow of love, loss and death. They pray often and deeply.

The meditation topic today was happiness, and I put it to the meditators directly.

Is it difficult for people in assisted care to be happy, to know happiness? Or is life too challenging.

The Mansion residents, like most people in elder care, live on the edge of a precipice every day, and the fall over the other side is very deep and frightening. Illness can strike at any time, the physical issues of aging only mount, they don’t decline. They just keep getting worse.

The residents see a lot of suffering and death. They can find happiness in their lives, they all said so, but it is not always easy and not all the time.

Death is never far away, neither is transfer to a nursing home, from which very few people return. Their bodies are falling apart.  Is dinner and lunch really enough for someone to look forward to every day? It’s a Catch 22 for many. If they seek urgent medical help, they’l get taken to the hospital or to a nursing home. If they don’t get help, they may suffer greatly.

We meditated on this subject for 15 minutes, then I asked the people attending if they could talk about happiness, if they find it, how they find it, what it means to them.

I’ve always thought that hope and happiness were two of the things I ought to work on in my volunteer work. It’s a tough sell.

It’s rough being one of the extreme elderly, limited in mobility, energy and sometimes memory and comfort.  These are rural people, mostly farm people. They worked all of their lives and  took care of themselves all of their lives.

They aren’t used to talking about their emotions at any stage of life,  they are mesmerized by our attempts to do that in meditation class.

And they very much like to talk about life there. Things that are generally avoided are topics for us to share.

Today, several of the people in the class said they felt happiest when they went on the boat ride on Lake George last year and the year before ( organized by the Army Of Good). Why?, I asked them. Did they love the water?

They said the ride gave them happiness and hope, it was something they could look forward too, there weren’t too many of those when you get to be “our age” – sixties and seventies and eighties.

One of the things almost all of the meditators said kept them from happiness is that they no longer were responsible for anything but getting dressed and taking some pills.

They no longer prepared meals, took care of kids and husbands, ran a household, cleaned and shopped.
“I’m not responsible for anything any more,” said one. “I imagine everyone is just waiting for me to die and get out of their hair.”

I said I agreed it was difficult to be happy thinking that.

Maybe, said one, happiness is just  something to look forward to you. “At our age,” said Madeline, who is quite happy being quoted, “you don’t turn happiness away, ever. I look in the mirror every morning to make sure I’m alive.”

If you live in assisted care, there is not much to look forward to by definition in some ways, you’re not going anywhere. “People need something to look forward to.”

The talk was fascinating, one of the most honest and open I have shared at the Mansion. I’m not going to reveal identities with comments, I think it just wouldn’t be right, even thought they are willing.

These quotes are real, I’ve smoothed one or two out.

“I do feel happiness,” one woman said, “but it comes from the outside – my grandchildren, my nephews and nieces. This is very nice place to live, I feel safe and the people are very kind. But I know I will ever leave here standing up, I know I am near the end. When that gets into your head, it stays there, and I can be happy, but I can’t say I am happy about where I live in life. There are so many things I used to do that I will never do again. There was some silence after that.”

Another said: “I have happy moments. When we sing, when I sit out by the garden with a friend and we talk. The aides are sweet and attentive. When someone comes to visit me. Otherwise, I am just living…I don’t think about being happy. Something hurts all the time.”

We talked about the small ways of being happy. Thinking of friends we care about. Music we love to hear. Family members who love us. “People who send letters to us,” said one.

It was a good and important talk. I said I wasn’t sure this point in life was generally a happy time, it was full of loss, change, discomfort, physical decline and anxiety.

I thought as we ended the session and got up to leave, that it wasn’t my job to make people feel better or tell them how they should feel. I couldn’t fix things, or change the trajectory of their lives. I would never urge people to fight on, or take heroic measures to keep themselves alive.

My job is to listen and hear them.

The residents do love to get letters. I should caution you that many can’t respond. They are too frail, or they forget, or they have no pens or stationery, or sometimes they get sick and die. When that happens, I can’t tell you about it unless I have advance permission from or their families.

I can’t ever write about the specifics of anyone’s medication condition, or say if they’ve left (Sylvie asked me to write about her).

You may never know if your letters got read.  I don’t ask them who they’ve written to, and who they haven’t. That’s not my business.

The reward is in the giving, I think, or not at all.

Here is a list of residents who wish to get letters: Ellen, Mary,  Jean, Carol, Alice, Sylvie, Madeline, Helen, Alanna, Peggie, Annette, Dottie, Tim, Art, Wayne, Ruth, Georgina.

Letters should be addressed to the individual resident, c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. And thank you.