It dawned on me the other day that I really am starting to learn a lot about these people.
There are 48 residents right now that I could look at and immediately tell you what their food restrictions are. If you tried to hand a "mechanical soft" person a pretzel, I would slap it out of your hand faster than you could say "Here, Grandma" and substitute it with some hulless popcorn.
I could tell you how many children the majority of them have, and if you begged hard enough, I could probably even sing a song for most of them that I know they are particularly fond of.
I love that I get to have such a special window into their lives like that. Sometimes I'll learn something out of the blue that I never would've expected. Sometimes a small little fact won't surprise me in the least. But either way, I love having the opportunity to discover different pieces of the puzzle that have composed each weathered soul that sits before me.
A couple weeks ago, one resident played piano for me. I knew she played her whole life, but since I have been working there I don't think she has played. One day she mentioned something about it, and before I knew it we were sitting at the piano together. I gave her a hymnal to look through but I could tell she already knew many of them by heart. She mostly did one-handed melodies very softly, but here and there she would add a second hand and out of nowhere produce some of the most beautiful chords I’ve ever heard. She was a little shy about it, but seeing her sit there was just simply beautiful. I know she grew up in a big family, and it was almost as if sitting behind a piano was her safe place to get away. When we were done she said she will have to ask the teacher if maybe a couple times a week she could stay after school to practice.
Here's a photo of her. I blurred it a little to protect her identity, but I think you can still see the beauty of it:
If you walk down the hall, all the residents might look the same to you. Most are sitting in a wheelchair; many would be sleeping, and about 96% of them have solid white hair, wrinkles, and glasses.
But after getting to know them, you'll realize they really are incredibly unique.
One used to be a fantastic painter.
One of them adopted a child.
One used to work in a children's clothing store.
A couple of them were Pastors.
One woman was raised by nuns.
One man loves Rock and Roll.
One loved going to Church Camp.
One was a pilot.
One owned a taxi company with her husband.
Many women were beauticians.
One lady was climbing ladders and cleaning windows just a couple months ago.
One man was a doctor.
One woman was a nurse.
One of our ladies is a very talented yodeler.
One loves listening to gospel music and still dances with her husband.
One used to let her Huskie/Shepherd mix run free by the river.
One woman loves Victor Borge. (And who can blame her??)
One woman saw Frank Sinatra in person.
One man plays the drums.
I've got a long way to go before I really know the stories of each resident, but so far, I believe what has shaped them is beautiful. I think I'll be shamelessly cheesy right now and encourage you to go document your life somehow. Facebook will probably help with that in the coming generations, but keep a journal too, or make some good ol' fashioned photo albums or something. You might think it's drab, but trust me, when you're 85, some 21 year old girl might think your story is the most fantastically inspiring thing in the world.
There will be a story behind the wrinkles whether you saw it coming or not, I promise.
And for the love of God, don't get Botox. Wrinkles are beautiful, okay?
There are 48 residents right now that I could look at and immediately tell you what their food restrictions are. If you tried to hand a "mechanical soft" person a pretzel, I would slap it out of your hand faster than you could say "Here, Grandma" and substitute it with some hulless popcorn.
I could tell you how many children the majority of them have, and if you begged hard enough, I could probably even sing a song for most of them that I know they are particularly fond of.
I love that I get to have such a special window into their lives like that. Sometimes I'll learn something out of the blue that I never would've expected. Sometimes a small little fact won't surprise me in the least. But either way, I love having the opportunity to discover different pieces of the puzzle that have composed each weathered soul that sits before me.
A couple weeks ago, one resident played piano for me. I knew she played her whole life, but since I have been working there I don't think she has played. One day she mentioned something about it, and before I knew it we were sitting at the piano together. I gave her a hymnal to look through but I could tell she already knew many of them by heart. She mostly did one-handed melodies very softly, but here and there she would add a second hand and out of nowhere produce some of the most beautiful chords I’ve ever heard. She was a little shy about it, but seeing her sit there was just simply beautiful. I know she grew up in a big family, and it was almost as if sitting behind a piano was her safe place to get away. When we were done she said she will have to ask the teacher if maybe a couple times a week she could stay after school to practice.
Here's a photo of her. I blurred it a little to protect her identity, but I think you can still see the beauty of it:
If you walk down the hall, all the residents might look the same to you. Most are sitting in a wheelchair; many would be sleeping, and about 96% of them have solid white hair, wrinkles, and glasses.
But after getting to know them, you'll realize they really are incredibly unique.
One used to be a fantastic painter.
One of them adopted a child.
One used to work in a children's clothing store.
A couple of them were Pastors.
One woman was raised by nuns.
One man loves Rock and Roll.
One loved going to Church Camp.
One was a pilot.
One owned a taxi company with her husband.
Many women were beauticians.
One lady was climbing ladders and cleaning windows just a couple months ago.
One man was a doctor.
One woman was a nurse.
One of our ladies is a very talented yodeler.
One loves listening to gospel music and still dances with her husband.
One used to let her Huskie/Shepherd mix run free by the river.
One woman loves Victor Borge. (And who can blame her??)
One woman saw Frank Sinatra in person.
One man plays the drums.
I've got a long way to go before I really know the stories of each resident, but so far, I believe what has shaped them is beautiful. I think I'll be shamelessly cheesy right now and encourage you to go document your life somehow. Facebook will probably help with that in the coming generations, but keep a journal too, or make some good ol' fashioned photo albums or something. You might think it's drab, but trust me, when you're 85, some 21 year old girl might think your story is the most fantastically inspiring thing in the world.
There will be a story behind the wrinkles whether you saw it coming or not, I promise.
And for the love of God, don't get Botox. Wrinkles are beautiful, okay?
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