Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover
I hope you have, or make time, to read this in its entirety, and rest assured pictures of each person are at the end.
Helen's late husband Gerald, whom everyone called Jerry, and whom I called Grandpa, was very instrumental in strengthening my walk with Christ. Additionally, he was a catalyst in both taking our leap of faith in starting Shadow Trackers.
We started today at the assisted living home that Helen has been for about 6 weeks. The church service was on this day, going to be Lisa's parents, Lisa, and her brother Paul singing wonderful southern gospel music to the residents.
While sitting down, several of the residents were seated, and or coming in. All but a couple were in wheelchairs, and most suffering some sort of medical condition that none of us would want. You don't know if you should approach them, say anything, mostly because you aren't sure what to say or if they are going to understand, etc.
Well, a lady walked in shortly after it started, and I motioned that I had a seat available next to me, which she took. She was a thin gal, obviously a resident, but seemed to move and act like a spry chicken. While the family was singing in the background, she leaned over and said, "I was looking for an art class, but this will do." I smiled and we both moved our eyes up towards the front of the room to focus on them singing.
During the performance, she was moving her arms to the rhythm and tapping her foot, clearly enjoying it as well as demonstrating she had a lot of energy. After the performance, she asked why we were here and I explained for Helen's 90th Birthday. She said, "I have her beat, I'm 94!" I just about fell out of my chair, because I was certain due to her behavior and charm, she was much younger. I guess that's what I get for making presumptions.
She went on to relay that she had 5 children, all girls, and she lived in the Seattle area most if not all of her life. I asked her how long she was married and she replied, "My husband was a coward, he went and died on me," followed by a chuckle. She never did give me an answer, but I must presume it was a long time, and eventually she mentioned it was cancer that took him away from her.
She asked what happened to my jeans, since they were so faded (I bought them this way), and why my sons jeans had rips. I explained they come this way and she thought that was silly. Although I somewhat agreed with her, I didn't want my limited time with her spent about pants.
I asked her, "What advice do you have for living such a long life?" She paused, as if she had never been asked that question, looked up and thought for a bit. She then looked at me directly and said, "Get rid of all the negative in your life, and surround yourself with positive friends and family." Plain and simple, that was the key to life, and if you think about it, it certainly couldn't hurt.
This lady, Cecile was her name, had been such a joy and full of fun and energy, I was sad that few people get to see that, or probably even care enough to take an interest. Oh, lastly she relayed to me that her mom's best friend from France was named Cecile, which is how she got her name. I asked if I could get a picture with her and she said, "Yes, and you can be my date for the night, but don't tell your wife." I looked over to my wife who was sitting next to me, and laughed.
With the concert being over now by at least 20 minutes, and Cecile leaving to go have her lunch in the cafeteria, it was a good time for me to get some coffee in the mini-kitchen they had connected to the concert room.
I walked in and observed a man sitting at the table, drinking hot chocolate, and appeared to be deep in thought, daydreaming, or pondering. I didn't dare interrupt his thoughts, but wondered if his background and story could also enlighten me, as Cecile's had.
I said, "That looks like pretty good hot chocolate," which he nodded his head yes, and replied, "It is, you should have some." I told him I may have to after his approval of it, perhaps after my coffee. Now was the time to start a conversation and not knowing what was in store, I went for it.
I asked him, who reminded me of an older Italian man, if he had any family that lived nearby. He quickly said, "Nope, not anyone." I felt very sad feeling that no family would come visit him, and a sense of sorrow and isolation came over me. He then proudly said, "My son lives in DC, and he's coming to see me next week, for 1, maybe even 2 weeks." This was the only time I sensed he had a smile on his face.
Wanting more history of this man, I asked how long he had lived in the area and he told me 40 years. He then went on to say that he was with the 101st Airborne, and was in wave 3 of Normandy. Wow, this frail man sitting alone sipping hot chocolate, was right smack in the middle of the invasion, June 6, 1944. He described how there were 5,000 ships and explained how much organization that had to take place, and asked me if I could imagine that, I said no way. He said, "When I looked up, there were 1,000 planes overhead, and so many that it literally blocked the sun." I felt that within those 2 sentences he relived those moments, and I know anyone involved with that invasion, had more courage than I could even comprehend.
A nurse walked in and asked him if he had read that the oldest recipient of the Medal of Honor had just passed away. He replied quickly to her, "No, what was his name?" She said, now that may make you the oldest one, and then she retrieved the paper in which the article about it was.
I pondered if he had been awarded the Medal of Honor, but didn't ask him outright, so I'll never know but I lean toward it being likely, rather than not. I thanked him for his service, regardless if many decades had since passed, and he smiled. "My" Grandpa Jerry was also in Normandy, so perhaps that made me feel closer due to this.
Lastly, I asked if I could take a picture of him and he said, "Sure". I snapped the below photo and then asked what his name was. He put the paper down, looked up and said, "Wolf, you can call me Wolf." I smiled and really wanted to know what the meaning was behind that name, as I am sure that would be another wonderful story, but I sensed he wanted to leave our conversation with that.
I enjoyed the day with everyone, but Cecile and "Wolf" truly made an impact on me on several levels. One you can never know a history of a person without asking and taking the time to listen. I know this sounds blatantly obvious, but how much wonderful people and history are sitting somewhere, alone, waiting for someone to ask?
Secondly, although almost every resident was 85 years or older and clearly had serious medical issues, the light in their eyes came to life once interest was shown to them. They aren't in "la-la" land and they all aren't delirious and unimportant, which is how I feel many portray "old people in homes."
Every person is a child of God and I pray that people take the time to spend with a complete stranger, you may do it initially to help them, but trust me, you will help yourself more so. They made such an impact on me that I had to write about it, I hope in sharing this, and their stories, it provides perspective for you, as it did me.
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| Grandma "Helen" chatting with many of her friends |
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| Giving Cecile a hug and squeeze |
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| "Wolf" enjoying his hot chocolate |
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| Some residents taking in the southern gospel music. |
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| "Jerry" Mercer - The man I called "Grandpa" |
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