Search Results for: Madeline

At the Mansion Assisted Care Facility, where they think of all you benefactors as mysterious and miraculous angels, someone asks me almost every day “will you forget us? Will they forget us?”

It’s a difficult question for me to answer.

I don’t know most of you, I have never met most of you or spoken with most of you, or even heard from most of you, I don’t know what your energy and interest and resources are like, I don’t know what your commitment or attention span to this work is, and it is not my business, it is yours to decide for yourselves.

Sometimes, they ask me “who sent us this? Who wrote this letter? Who are they? What are they like? I don’t know, I say, I don’t know who they are, I know there are good people out there, and they care about you.

You have already done much more than anyone else ever has for these people, and they are mystified and perhaps afraid it will go away, all of these letters and messages and photos and cards, this feeling of being known and cared for outside of the walls of the Mansion, an especially loving place.

You mean so much to them,  you are mystical fairies and angels, they can hardly believe it, and most of the residents are not used to being cared for so much. Many have been forgotten, they expect it. They constantly share your letters and messages, save them by their bedsides, share them with each other, keep them in boxes.

I have a history of burning out from things like this, I had to leave hospice work for several years because I overdid it, saw too many people, watched too many people die, I had to stop for awhile. I’ve learned to be more careful. One of the residents wants me to be a private tutor, I said no, it’s too much, I don’t  have time, I will just have to walk away.

So I pace myself, limit myself, and yet this work with the Mansion is different.

They feel like my family now, I have come to know and love many of them, they share their ups and downs with me (one of the residents told me she had a crush on one of the new male residents, but he had rejected her, she was crushed. Life goes on, everywhere.)

I cannot imagine withdrawing from them with Red, forgetting them, walking away. I try to limit the things I ask  people for, or the things that cost a lot of money. When Connie’s computer failed, I urged people not to try to replace it, it was too much, and someone sent the perfect gift, a Kindle Fire. I hope this was not too much for them, I worry about it.

I try and confine our support to messages and letters, the most effective and meaningful gifts to the residents, a feeling of being known.

Your support on holidays are so important now, the gifts and bags and cards for Easter are beginning to come in, I brought  bags of Easter gifts over to the Mansion today, was sent by a wonderful woman in New York City who sends bags on every holiday, and whose letter writing groups sends the most wonderful letters. A middle school class in New Jersey sends much loved messages every month or so. So do people from all over the country, names I don’t know.

I think focusing on the holidays makes sense, and cards and letters and photos are the most important thing.  There are natural breaks in between.

But I can’t make any promises to the Mansion residents, I just don’t know if people will forget them and I say so.

For my part, I will not walk away from these people or forget them. i couldn’t live with myself if I did that, and I will take care to pace myself and to set boundaries and make good and hard choices about what it is I can do and what it is I can’t do. I’ve learned about boundaries.

As for you, follow your own hearts. I hope no one ever feels any kind of pressure to hang in here. You are doing much good.  You are, of course, free to walk away at any time, no one is keeping score. You have your own lives, resources and people to consider. It is not for me to pressure anyone. I’m staying with it.

But we have done something special here, especially now. It means a lot to me also.

“It’s the long haul for me, ” I told Peggie, who gave me a big hug. “I won’t forget you.”

If you wish to write to the Mansion residents, here is the current list of residents who have agreed to receive your letters and messages: Jane, Charlotte, Allan, Sylvie, Jean G. John Z., John R.,  Alanna M., Peggie, Ellen, Joan, Brenda, Connie, Alice Madeline, Mary, Barbara, William, Brother Peter, Diane D., Helen, Jean, Tim, Gerry, Dennis, Anita, Richard.

Thanks

It was a long day of writing and working on the farm, and at 4 p.m., I wanted to lie down and put a bag of dry ice on my head to cool down. Maria and I are working almost all the time now, and we are tired.

I lay down for a while, fed the dogs, then decided to go to the Mansion instead, it is only a few minutes away. Dusk is my favorite time to visit on some days, the day and office staff has left around 5 p.m., the night crew is in, gathered in the office for their daily meeting.

It is a quiet hour, the residents are mostly in their rooms, the activity room is shut down, saved for a big screen TV on, and Madeline and Jeanne sitting on the sofa together watching the news, which horrifies and disturbs them. “Nothing but nasty stuff,” complains Madeline.

Red has a routine now, first he veers into the Mansion office and is surrounded by the staff, I have to eventually insist that he come out and go to work. When he does, he trots ahead of  me down the hall and veers off to the right to the activity room. He comes over to Madeline and Jeanne, who fuss over him and hold him.

I stopped at Rite-Aid, of all places, to look for a stamp pad, Julie Smith wants one for the art show. I didn’t find one there, but I ordered a stamp pad on Amazon for $6.50, it is coming Monday. They have everything else they need, Julie says.

I did see a wooden and marble game called Mancula, played with a wooden board with holes and small colored stones.mIt is said to be one of the oldest board games in the world, and it is simple and straightforward. Even I could play it. I bought it for the Mansion, it cost $8.89 cents. I left it on Julie’s desk.

After we leave the activity room, we visit the residents in their rooms, three or four each trip. The first visit is always to Connie, she is usually sitting up in her chair knitting a cap or sweater or mitten or blanket. Her hands move quickly, they are practiced and sure, but she has to rest frequently because of her arthritis. She tires easily, but keeps on working. She and Red have a special  relationship, they just connect with one another in the way therapy dogs sometimes do with the people they see.

Red weaves his way through the tubes and the walker, and sits quietly while Connie talks to him, rubs his head, scratches his back, brushes him with a dog brush we left for her. Red loves this attention and spirit and sits quietly, occasionally making eye contact. Connie speaks to him almost continuously, she is always happy to share him, but clearly relishes this time.

I step outside of the room, so they can have their dialogue with one another, I think Red would sit there for hours.

At this hour, the Mansion is quiet. The residents are gathering themselves for dinner. For people like Connie, that requires help from an aide to turn on her large oxygen tanks and hook them up to her breathing tubes.

They are placed on her walker, and she walks on her own down the hall to the dining room. Red walked alongside her. You can write Connie c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.  She has enough  yarn to fill a lifetime, she doesn’t need any more and has nowhere to put more. She is grateful for the yarn, and is working her way through it. She does love to get letters.

It’s a good time for me to walk with Red up and down the hallway.

We see Peggie and Joan and Barb and Mary, all of whom we know and visit regularly.  We talk, compare notes about our lives. We see Bill, who is halfway down the hall and winks and whispers at me, “I forgot my teeth,” and then turns around and heads back to get them. Everyone stops to touch Red and talk to him.

It is not a simple or easy thing to go into assisted care, but I am always struck by the care and concern the residents show for one another. They constantly worry about one another.

When Connie leans over to hug read head-to-head several people walking by stop to make sure she’s all right, they can’t always see Red from the hallway. They all know it could be them one day in trouble.

The dining room is full now, and it is time for us to leave. I hear the quiet chatter from the dining room.

After dinner, everyone will go to their rooms, and the Mansion will settle down for the night. The staff will check on everyone and make sure they are all okay and have taken their medicines.

Often at night, the residents read your letters and messages, they help them sleep.

I am drawn to the quiet hour, it settles me to go there with Red and my camera, two of my favorite things. The residents and I know each other well know, they are thrilled to see Red and appreciate me for bringing him.

I am curiously at home there, and I am a restless man, not at ease in many places.  There is a kind of quiet and stoic heroism in there, nobody wants to be there really, but everyone is grateful for it and makes the best of it.

Almost all of the residents struggle in one way or another, but with little complaint or self-pity. In a way, it feels like a family to me.  I feel fortunate to know these  sweet people and to do this work with Red, a great creature of empathy.

Peacefulness and love, a kind of healing meditation.

The Mansion Art show begins next week and runs all through April. Your gifts and supplies take up three cabinets and a table in the activity room, several books arrived today – drawing books, colored pencils, mattes for frames, different sizes, pads, crayon, art board, markers, art paper.

A stamp pad is on the way

Julie Smith, the activity director, can’t believe it.  No one here has ever seen anything like it.

A boombox from Anne Boucher of Massachusetts also arrived today, along with art supplies and music, the box is already playing one of the scores of CD’s some of you have sent. I want you to see what you have done, and I will strive to capture the meaning of it.

The residents will be drawing all month and entering their work in a show to be held in the Great Room at the end of the month. Julie Smith, the activity director, says she has more than enough supplies and materials for the show, she is  greatful to the Army Of Good for your generosity and empathy.

Here is the latest list of Mansion residents who wish to receive your messages and gifts: Bruce., Allan ., Sylvie ., Jean G., Jane, John Z., John R., Alanna ., Peggie, Ellen B., Joan, Brenda, Connie, Alice, Madeline, Mary, Barbara, William, Brother Peter, Diane, Helen, Jean, Tim, Gerry, Dennis, Anita, Richard.

Thank you, and thanks to you, April will be a month-long celebration of voice, identity and the creative spark. I will share as many of their artworks as I can. Winners will be chosen at the end of the month, there will be a lot of winners. You did good, again. You keep the flame burning.

Mansion Activities director Julie Smith spends a lot of her day unpacking the boxes of art supplies that are coming in in advance of the first Mansion Art Show And Workshop, which is running through the entire month of April. On April 25, the art of the residents will be displayed in the big common room, and will be judged by me, Maria and Scott Carrino.

There will be a lot of winners.

All kinds of supplies have been coming in – thank you again, it can’t be said too often – paper art boards, brushes, sketch pads, colored pencils, paint kits, design books and tracing pads.

Julie says she has just about everything she needs except for some mat board mats to frame photographs and paintings (smaller ones), she says she is blessed to collect your letters and packages, she has never seen anything like your generosity. The art show is ready to go, thanks to you.

I came by in the morning to drop something off, and there was a yoga class in the room, then a round of Deluxe Scrabble. Starting in April, a number of artists will come to the Mansion (Maria too) to talk about their work and help the residents make their art.

There is always something going on in the activity room. (Julie says thanks for the names for the parakeets, they will choose one soon. Someone suggested Bonnie and Clyde. It is a haven, a place to make contact with others and be safe and stimulated.

I have a new list of residents, be advised that it changes constantly, this is not a place of constancy:  Every day is a whole new experience, two people I visited were gone today, three more had arrived.

The first names of the residents who wish to receive your cards and letters are Bruce W., Allan H., Sylvie B., Jean G., John Z., John R., Alanna M., Peggie O., Ellen B., Joan H., Brenda S., Connie M., Alice G., Madeline G., Mary B., Barbara N., William H., Brother Peter., Diane D., Helen L., Jean A., Tim R., Gerry B., Dennis R., Anita H., Richard H.

Several days before he left the Mansion to go to the hospital, I brought Herman a stuffed lamb, I don’t believe the sender told me who she was, it came to the farmhouse. If she did tell me her name, I lost it or forgot and I apologize.  I get so many messages about the mansion.

She has not come forward since Herman died, and I would love to thank her, this meant to much to him. Please contact me if you wish.

Herman loved the lamb, he took it with him to the hospital. He kept it by his bedside. This photograph, taken by Mandi Mulready, who  went to see Herman in the hospital, was the last photograph taken of him, it was shortly before he died.

Herman’s daughter Marlene came to the Mansion Thursday to collect his personal belongings, and she said the lamb was with Herman when he died, and with him when he was cremated. They left this world together.

Marlene is coming to our Bedlam Farm Open House (June 10-11) to see the farm. We will be looking for her. Thanks so much for giving him this comfort and love in his last hours.

I was eager to post this last picture of Herman so you could see what you have done once more. Who would have thought a small stuffed animal would mean to much to a person at the edge of love. Herman was much loved, in his brief time at the Mansion, several staffers told me he changed their lives.

(Here is the most recent list of Mansion residents who wish to receive your messages; the address is The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

The residents, by their first names, are: Bruce W, Allan H., Sylvie B., Jean G., John Z., Alanna M., Peggie O., Ellen B., Joan H., Brenda S., Connie m., Alice G., Madeline G., Marcus B., Barbara N., William H., Brother Peter, Diane D., Helen L., Jean A., Tim R., Gerry B., Dennis R., Anita H., Richard H.

Please remember that the list of residents changes constantly for various reasons, and your personalized messages might not get to the person you wrote to. General messages are distributed evenly to the residents as well, they love to receive them.)