Search Results for: Madeline

Since the Army Of Good came together as a risky and improbably gamble in 2016, we have evolved, grown, focused and communicate in better and more meaningful ways than I could ever have imagined. We have done  a ton of good.

We are on a roll, and I mean to keep it going.

It started out as a way to do good rather than feel anxious and angry.

It has grown well beyond that, into something deeper and more meaningful. In these three years, you have never once failed to help when asked, and I can’t count the number of people who have benefited.

Today, I can say with confidence and hope that we are succeeding beyond my expectations.

The AOG has been supported of me from the start, and I thank you, but I believe it is only in recent months that our work has been so successful, efficient, practical and focused.

All of this hard work, through these ups and downs and  highs and lows and experiments and frustrations, is paying off. We are doing more things with greater effect and for less money than ever.

We have helped thousands of people many hundreds of times in more ways than I can mention.

We have stayed small and realistic, doing real good in the real world almost every day. From the soccer team to the Mansion to Joshua Rockwood to the scholarships we are piling up for gifted refugee children, we are on a roll.

We are giving Noorul Potak a computer for graduation, we’ve placed two (possibly three) gifted refugee children in some of the best private schools in the Northeast, we’re sending Kathy Sosa’s class to the FDR Home in Hyde Park (the first trip they have been able to afford in several years, we’ve bought hundreds of dollars of groceries and clothing for beleaguered refugee families, were helping Ruth and Wayne in the Mansion have their commitment ceremony.

We have regularly bought groceries and clothes, paid rent deposits,  pay overdue electric bills and help with car insurance.

Today, I’m bringing a load of clothes to the Mansion that I’ve purchased at two local Thrift Shops – they save things for me now, knowing what it is we need.

I’m getting a hat and jacket for Sylvie, a nightgown for Katherine, two pairs of pants for Wayne, three scarves for different women who need some warmth, five large print crossword puzzles for Bert and Madeline.

We’ve helped the Mansion buy a van, gotten air conditioners for all the residents who need them, helped the Mansion residents plant a beautiful garden, bought new tableclothes, recliner chairs, TV’s and a boatload of arts, crafts and books for activities, paid for outings and soap, reading lights and fuzzy slippers.

I have to be honest, it has hardly been a straight line.

My efforts to work with RISSE, the refugee and immigrant support center, was my biggest and most painful failure. Even in my tumultuous life, I don’t think I have ever encountered so much hostility, dysfunction or xenophobia.

They do a lot of good, and I wish them every success, but it was simply not possible for me to work with them, even though I tried again and again in every way I could think of.

We funneled them tens of thousands of dollars through Wish Lists and contributions, helped the soccer team with the best supplies and equipment and training facilities, equipped teachers there with every reading and teaching tool they asked for.

I take pleasure in the spanking new library we outfitted for the RISSE after school program , and the many books and arts and other tools we provided them, from computers to cameras to $500 recycling bins. We made life better for many refugee children. We bought pots and pans and plates and blankets for their families.

I wish I could pass along  thanks from RISSE, but there wasn’t any, for me or for you.  So I thank you. I urge you to continue supporting them when and if you can, a lot of people need them and depend on them. You can donate to RISSE here.

I wrote about them so much, and tried so hard to support them, that I feel I have to explain why I can’t write about them or some of the wonderful kids and teachers I met any longer.

When they refused to help with the new scholarship program, or even nominate candidates, or meet with me, or permit me to take photos of the children we were helping, that was the last straw for me.  I wish I could have made it work. I hate to fail.

I went and found public school teachers who are eager, even desperate to help. It took several months, but I am now working with some of the most wonderful and dedicated people I have ever known.

We are very supportive of one another, and it works.

That troubling experience turned out to be a blip. I don’t care to dwell on it, but you have a right to know where your money goes, good or bad. That was my promise, and I will stick to it. When I change gears, I need to explain it.

I set out on my own, and that’s when it really began to work, for the refugee work as it has for the Mansion. I’ve learned again and again that I function best on my own, I have a visceral dislike for clueless and unaccountable bureaucracies. They don’t like me much either.

Close to the people we are  helping, I can make sound judgements, and I am fully transparent, you get to see and know the people you are helping.

We fill the holes in people’s lives, we work on a small-scale to offer big kinds of help. We make hard and considered choices. I’ve learned a lot. I don’t want to take advantage of anyone, the people who read my blog are not wealthy.

I want to cry every time I get shoes for an elderly woman, or underpants for older people who can’t afford them, or sweaters for the winter chills. I am deeply honored to be organizing and supporting the commitment ceremony this Wednesday for Ruth and Wayne, two people who love one another in a place and time of life where such love is rare.

It is a miracle to have gotten Sakler Moo and Eh K Pru Shee Wah into the Albany Academy, it will change their lives.

This is a partial list, I couldn’t begin list all of the small acts of kindness we have carried out.

My program to get full scholarships for gifted refugee children is taking hold, it is a focused and bounded and efficient way to help these children in the most profound of ways.

Today, I’m going to Albany to meet with Mike Tolan of the Bishop Maggin High School, early supporters of refugee families and their children. I hope to get several refugee children to apply and the school offers full scholarships. There would be little need for fund-raising.

So I am very upbeat and energized about this week. I mean to keep it going, and I can never express enough thanks for your generosity and trust and support.

The meditation topic was about being liked at first.

I quoted a Buddhist monk as saying that striving to be liked by others is fruitless, it’s much better to like and be at ease with yourself. The Mansion residents in my meditation class – there were seven today – liked that idea.

But I doubted the Mansion residents cared that much about being liked at this point in their lives. I know by know that they do want to talk after meditating, it opens them up in some way.

When our meditation time was up – we were silent for 15 minutes – I asked the residents what it was they wished to talk about, and it seemed they all wanted to talk about fear.

Madeline said she was often terrified at the memory of her brother stabbing her father to death when she was four in order to protect her mother; Ruth said she was fearful half of the day, J said she had nightmares about the children she never sees anymore, and Alice just nodded and smiled. She didn’t want to talk about fear.

I heard their stories and was interested to see how much they want to talk about the realities of aging, and how rarely they get the chance. “Nobody wants to talk to old people,” Madeline says, “to them or about them.”

Madeline, who is in her 90’s, is the most direct and outspoken member of the class. There are usually nine people in the class, two were at the doctor’s today. I am surprised how much they like meditating, and equally surprised how eager they are to talk after the meditation is over.

This is revelation to me, sometimes I think growing older is a taboo in assisted care, the last thing people want or need to talk about. I was  wrong. I see that it is important to talk about it.

The meditation class has been a rich experience for me. I ordered some more meditation beads, since almost everyone forgets theirs. I don’t want to embarrass them, so I just order more, they are inexpensive. Wayne has figured this out and wears his as a necklace, so does Peggie.

We meet at a dining room table, which is usually set for lunch. It is almost never really quiet in the dining room, people walk in and out of the front door, there is much clanging and banging in the kitchen, we can ever hear the talking in the office.

But we find the deep silence in that room, every one of us and drink of solitude.

The residents thank me profusely for coming and talking to them. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do that with them, but now, I can’t wait either.

I see it is a gift for them to talk about their fears – losing contact with their children, getting sick, dying a hard death in some strange nursing home.

We keep the elderly alive and make billions of dollars off of their aging bodies, but take no responsibility for how they might live. To me, that is very often sadder than dying.

Maria and I talk a lot about how to talk to the elderly and listen to them, we have talked a lot about the pieces I’ve written about that.

Alice is a lovely person, she is struggling with memory and words at the moment. She is very fond of Maria and whenever I see her, she asks me where “my wife” is, I understand she can’t recall her name.

Tonight at Bingo, Maria sat next to Alice and helped her with her numbers.

She intuitively knows how to talk to Alice. I brought Alice a picture book, as I often do, and Maria opened the book with her and pointed to the images and Alice named some of them, remembered others, and got stuck on some.

Alice loves to stroke and pet Red, but she is happiest when she can talk to Maria.

Maria talks directly to Alice, she is never patronizing or impatient, she never gives  up on the idea that Alice is listening to every word she says.

And Alice does listen to her, even when she can’t always find the words.  I try to do  with Alice, but I think she sees Maria as a  kind of daughter and is very much at ease with her.

Maria plans to come and sit with Alice from time to time and talk with her. It is so important to talk to the residents, and to listen to them. To show up, again and a gain. They love what is known to them, they so appreciate people caring.

There is always a way to break through and communicate. The residents know who wants to hear from them and who is just pretending.

It is most important to show up. Even if my name is not known, my face is familiar, and that is where trust is born. When the residents needs something they can’t get for themselves, they come to me, and that means a lot to me.

And to Maria as well. Tonight, Alice forget her walker, and so Maria walked her back to her room. Alice was very happy to walk with her, the sight of the two of them talking and smiling was a very beautiful thing to see.

The Mansion residents love to get mail. I can’t promise they will write back, and I can’t keep track of your letters or their responses.

This is a gift without strings. Many of the residents can read or be read to, but they can’t always write or mail letters.

Today, I brought Wayne his black sweatpants for his Commitment Ceremony. I brought Peggie two new Hidden Object computer games. I brought wooden colored pencils for Tim. A new wristwatch is coming for Ruth. Wayne wants some large print sports books.

Here is an updated list of the residents who want to receive  your letters. The address is The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

Winnie, Ellen,Matt, Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Alice, Jean, Madeline, Helen, Barbara, Peggie, Dottie, Art, Tim, Wayne, Kathryn, Ruth.

And thanks.

Madeline, who is 94, cried a bit when we told her that Wayne and Ruth were getting married in May. She thought it was wonderful, “how great that two people here fell in love and decided to marry each other.”

It is a rare thing in assisted care, but a beautiful thing. I am the Best Man, as it turns out, Maria is a Bridesmaid. As the date looms, Wayne and Ruth asked me to step in, the Mansion staff is busy and prone to distraction.

Wayne asked Red to be present as his Second Best Man.

So I called a meeting this morning – me, the office staff and aides, Ruth and Wayne – and we are setting things in motion. Several aides will be bridesmaids and flower girls.

I said the Army Of Good will help support the wedding – flowers, clothes, food, music for about 30 people, maybe 40. The Mansion keeps leading me to new things. I am a whiz at finding outsized bras and underwear and am now Wedding Planner.

I am new to this, it seems like I’m learning something new every week.

(I invite anyone out there to make decorations for the wedding – cutouts, posters, decorations, even favors for the attendees, almost all Mansion staff and residents. I invite anyone out there to send messages of hope and congratulations to Ruth and Wayne, The Mansion, 11 S.  Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.)

I get to buy the stuff. No one there has the money for that. After meditation, I met with Wayne and Ruth. Wayne has no funds of his own, Ruth’s are very limited. Wayne asked for black sweatpants – he is bound to his wheel chair.

And a black pullover shirt, xxlarge for both.

I went on Amazon with my Iphone and showed the pants and shirt to both of them on the phone, we picked them out together and ordered them.

They are pretty cute when talking about the wedding, they just  light up. I got Ruth an address book Friday and she is carefully writing down the names and addresses of all the guests. It seems they all live at the Mansion.

Ruth and Wayne each wanted an angel pin for their lapels. I said they didn’t have any lapels, but they said they would figure something out, I found one online for $7.99, and bought two.

They are challenging and upending the stereotypes of older people that exist in America. Good for them.

We decided to ask Minister Carol, who conducts prayer services at the Mansion, if she would marry Wayne and Ruth on May 15, the date of the wedding. I delegated that desk. I’m sure she will be delighted.

I’m getting the flowers from a nearby florist in Salem, N.Y.

Ruth wants a corsage for herself and Wayne, she asks that the people in the wedding party “dress up,” and I asked her what that means. She said, “you know, a shirt with buttons.” I can do that.

I admit to being a little nervous. I’ve never planned a wedding beforer.

A local musician named Ray Gifford often plays at the Mansion, Wayne is fond of him. Julie Harlin, the Activities Director is going to call him and hire him for the wedding. I have to look for a local baker to make a cake and cupcakes for  the wedding reception. We’ll have punch also.

Ruth isn’t shy about what she wants, I did tell her we didn’t have an unlimited amount of money. And it has to help a lot of people.

But the Mansion is quite excited about the wedding, the first in anyone’s memory. Good for Wayne and Ruth. I hope I can make it memorable and nice.

If you would like to help with the wedding, here are the ways.

l. You can make cards or decorations or favors or things to hang on the wall that celebrate love and hope and Wayne and Ruth. You can send them to Ruth And  Wayne, Wedding, The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue Cambridge, or if you prefer, to me at P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

2. You can donate to my Wedding Fund via Paypal, [email protected], or by check, Jon Katz,  Wedding, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

I don’t wish to put together a lavish wedding, but I would like them to have what they want. I’m buying clothes, flowers, corsages, cake and cupcakes (with lettering), a musician for two hours angel pins and perhaps a thoughtful and small wedding gift for each of them. God knows what else Ruth will come up with.

I’m thinking this will cost $500 at a minimum, cheap for a wedding,  pricey for the Mansion.

Wayne wants me to hold the ring before the service and perhaps get him a new hat.

They will be sharing a larger room in the Mansion. This is a happy and joyous thing, I am happy to be a part of it. Thanks for your help.

Ellen won two games at Bingo last week, I was spared the Evil Eye I get when she loses. I had just given her a realistic baby doll, and she was grateful. Ellen doesn’t know my name but she has given me one: “The HopeMeister.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of eat, but Ellen paid me a high compliment, she said I bring “hope” when I come, sometimes I  can make dreams come true.

“You bring me hope,” she said. “Something to want and look forward to.”

I know what she means.

So many of the people I meet in assisted care have lost hope, they have become disconnected from their ordinary world and are not sure what to look ahead to or live for. They are no longer workers or part of their families. Many have lost their identity and purpose.

“You can live her and make a life,” Madeline says, “or you can sit here and wait to die.”

In his book In Later Years: Finding Meaning And Spirit In Aging, a book I read to the residents,  Bruce T. Marshall writes that in many ways aging is about loss.

Loss is a part of life at every stage.

Children lose teeth, toys. People lose lovers and games and money and jobs. Friendship ends. Teenagers and young people suffer certainty and peace of mind.

But as we grow older, writes Marshall, “the losses escalate.” There are many opportunities for change and renewal and pleasure, but the losses are deeper, more debilitating, more permanent.

The aging leave work behind, lose friends and family, find it hard to navigate movement, illness, memory.

Spouses and close friends and neighbors die, almost in a parade.

There is a loss of independence and control, of freedom of movement, ease of speech and memory, shopping cooking, keeping oneself clean and fed, taking a drive.

But I have learned that what isn’t lost is the ability to hope.

When I bring a large print book for Matt or Wayne. When I buy a slang dictionary for Tim. When I buy stamps or envelopes or a hat for Sylvie. When I get Ellen a doll.

In the narrowing, sometimes cloistered world of the elderly, a new pair of shoes in the Spring brings hope. Asking for help and getting brings hope. Seeing a dog brings hope.

With each small act of kindness from our  Army of Good comes  hope. A wristwatch that works. Underwear that is clean. A reading light for a book.  Warm pajamas. A bra that fits. A letter from a new friend. Meditation lessons, stories to listen to.

The world can take so many things away from the elderly. But hope can always be felt and restored, can always be a part of life. So that, I think, is my job, with your help.

I am proud to be a “HopeMeister.” It’s the best job title I ever had.

If you wish to support this work, you can contribute via Paypal, [email protected]. You can also send a check to Jon Katz, The Mansion Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Please mark it “Mansion Fund.” And thanks.