Do You Like It Here?

Somebody asked me if I like it here. I took a long time to answer, and even then I couldn't say "yes." That caused me to think about my true feelings. No I don't like it. There are a great many benefits to living here, but they don't make me like it. 

I don't always like the food. Sometimes it's O.K. I don't like not having a car and being able to come and go as I please. I can use the transportation bus and get stuff done, but it's not always convenient or pleasing. I don't like having to use cable for TV. It's mostly a bore. 

Back to the food, I don't like the meal schedule. 8:a.m., 12:30 and 5:30 makes the meals too close together. I would like 7 a.m. 12 noon, and 6 p.m. or maybe 6:30. I'd like them spread out a little more. It seems like all there is to do is get over one meal and wait for the next one.

I am really bored by the activity schedule. Many of the activities are not attended, so I guess I'm not the only once that finds the schedule worse than boring. Some people really get into the bingo games. I'm glad for them, but bingo has never been my favorite. I'm not big on cards or dominoes either. And I don't play Texas Holdem Poker.

So there are my complaints. Given time I'll probably find more. I didn't mention that some people are not my favorite companions, but maybe that'd be getting too honest. There are many intelligent people whose conversation's I would enjoy. I guess I haven't found most of them yet. I like one gentleman whose hearing is so bad he doesn't make conversation. It is nice to sit with him and have no obligation to talk. Sometimes I've sat alone, but then people want me to sit with someone since they perceive my solitude as loneliness. I really don't like this.

Study the Bible

I am campaigning for Bible study. People who claim to be Christians should practice Bible study. They should read the Bible and examine it to understand or discuss its issues.. Many Bible themes are difficult requiring forethought before sharing them. I have heard for years that most Church member are Biblically illiterate. It's time to correct that.  

Dealing with these issues is hard especially when it involves your children. To be an example to your children, it is essential that you model studying the Bible. You have to practice the principles it teaches. You have to study it to know and understand what it says.

For your own decisions understanding the Bible is important. When you are a Christian, you are obligated to behave in ways that reflect your profession. Study the Bible to understand those ways and shape your behavior to match God's requirement. Bible study is the way to begin 

Do the Right Thing!

The Resident Council of "the home" meets today. Being a member of that noble body does not thrill me with awe and wonder. Being a member prompts two questions in my mind: Why did anybody vote for me?  and What do the residents expect us to do about the concerns?

I found out how I got elected. A friend decided I would be good on the Resident Council after she discovered I had been on the City Council and served as mayor of a very small town in East Texas. I would not have thought that my credentials would have served me well. A group of citizens took us to District Court charging some sort of malfeasance. It was no-billed, but still that doesn't sound like something I would brag about if I had wanted to be on the council. She impressed others to vote for me. It actually wasn't that many, but here I am.

All the Resident Council does is recommend action to the Manager. Well, we can, as a body address issues verbally. In the only such case so far, the offender stoutly denied that she had done anything. We were acting on the testimony of several people including members of management. We told her that her actions were inappropriate. She still denied responsibility. We couldn't send her to the principal!

The second question: What do residents expect us to do about their concerns? I'll tell you what we do. We read the complaint and then look at each other and shrug our collective shoulders. I really hate the complaints that complain that something isn't fair. We are adults and we found out that life's not fair long before we arrived at this place. That may mean that we have to make up for the deficit in other people's behavior. No, that's not fair, but it's the way life is.  

To Serve or Be Served

I joined a Church today. It isn't a highly progressive and dynamic one I don't suppose. I attended another one for three weeks trying to see where I felt like I'd like to be. 

The Church I chose may be struggling. I'm not sure, but I found a place where I can offer to serve. Somehow, I am more attracted by a Church that needs me where I have something to offer, than by one that is vibrant and growing and I might get lost in.

It could be that I am seeking to make myself important, and that is probably conceit and self-promotion. It certainly falls short of a spiritual call, but I'll see how God works and how I fit in with the Church. I don't imagine it will take long for me to know if I am able to contribute to the Church's ministry and program. I'll also find out if the Church feeds me. I've changed churches on several occasions when the one I was attending stopped nourishing me in the Word of God. 

Who Do You Want to Eat With?

Going to meals in "the home" is enlightening. When I first moved in, asking if I could sit with someone at meals was a way to get introduced. I didn't enjoy every meal companion I sat with, but it was pretty good way find out who people were and learn ut the local gossip.

The managers encourage new people to introduce themselves. They also encourage residents to make new people feel welcome so I was somewhat surprised one day last week when I sat by myself and several people commented on it. The group at the next table tried to introduce me to another group as if I was helpless. I appreciated their concern, but I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. When I choose to eat alone, it's because I want to. Sometimes I don't want to talk to people. Sometimes I just want to sit there in the silence and think or maybe not even that--just sit there and wait.

I thought about it for a while. If I wan't to eat alone I need to take something to read. When someone is reading, they don't look alone. They look occupied, busy, even. Maybe if I want to eat alone, I should stay home and eat peanut butter.

When I eat alone, I remember what Frank would have said about the menu or the dishes. He was very critical of "tender crisp vegetables" He wanted them cooked well done. He would have griped about the desserts too. Don't they know what "sugar free" means? There have to be others in a group this large, who would like to have a sugar free dessert. Who ever told the chef that Jello is a salad? By the way, it's not dessert either.I guess this is not a meal I would enjoy. It's just a list of gripes, but there are things he would enjoy, too, and I would enjoy the visit with him. 

Food at "the home"

Most of the food at "the home" is pretty good. I mean it will sustain life, but let's face it: The food gets all the complaints. Most of the food is not cooked like I made it when I was at my house. They don't season it like I would. The menus are not selected like I would  Some of it is just not fixed to fit my taste. All that being said, it's still O.K.

Now let's get down to the real opinion. Most of it is not the way I want it done, but I want to gripe about abut some specifics. A Chicken Croquette was not something I was acquainted with. I have made and eaten Salmon Croquettes for many years--this looked like something I knew, but it was not. It had less taste and I could have been convinced that it had already been chewed. It had a lovely, deceptive brown crust, but then it fell apart. The crust was covered in a rather tasteless sauce described as Country Gravy on the menu. I have both and made and eaten Country Gravy. This was made from a mix and was even blander than the Croquette.

On to other things: The other item on the plate was labeled
 Marinated Salad. I guess marinated means it was soggy and sour. Salad is supposed to be crisp and fresh. 

Oh, yes, I forgot, there was no bread. Gravy usually means there is bread to go with it. Well, maybe the lovely crust on the Chicken thing was to go with the gravy. This meal was absolutely the worst I have encountered at "the home." It didn't taste bad, but on the other hand, it didn't taste at all. 

Maybe that's all my gripes for a while. 

Resident Counsel Delivers Justice, Sort of.\

The Bible requires accusation in the mouth of 2 or 3 witnesses to find someone guilty; good old-fashioned denial is a pretty good defebse if you want to avoid penalty. 

Today I had the experience of confronting someone for inappropriate behavior, and she flatly denied knowledge of the incident. She was accused of telling a resident he could not sit at a particular table. The man is quite deaf, but he is still very intelligent and astute.  She asked for the opportunity to confront her accusers, but the people responsible for censure did not want to blow the whole thing up any bigger by inviting a public accusation. We couldn't believe she denied knowledge of the behavior or the incident. She did admit talking to the man, but she swore she did not insult or verbally abuse him.

The accused signed the paper we requested agreeing that if this behavior was repeated she would be restricted from the dining room. She felt that this implied admission. I countered with the thought that if her denial were true, there would be no tendency or temptation for the behavior to be an issue again. 

She still felt she had been unjustly accused. On the other hand, the accusations were independent and consistent. Two of the accusers were members of management. Others were residents. No one expressed a bias against her. She is a vocal and visible member of the community. I'm afraid this is not the last we will hear of it.    

Alone in the Universe

Living in "the home" reveals a shocking and alarming truth: We are all alone. "The home" has a motto which says that life is better when lived with close friends. 

This may be true, but the people I live with in "the home" were rank strangers when I moved here a month ago. I have, indeed, found people I like a lot, but it would be a great exaggeration to call them close friends.We have not shared time and experience. We don't have common goals or interests. We might develop them over time, or that dream may evaporate. We each have skills and talents that help us live in this private vacuum. No matter how many people there are, no matter how intense the activity schedule; no matter how committed the staff, we are still alone. 

I see dramatizations about humans living on the Moon or Mars in a highly restricted state. I agree with Robert Frost when he said
"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars-- on stars where no human race is. 
I have it in me so much nearer home 
To scare myself with my own desert places"*

"The home" is a desert place capable of imposing intense isolation  It will benefit anyone who expects to live in such a place to engage in training for the event. Learning to endure your own company is a skill not learned in polite society. 

*Desert Places by Robert Frost

"Open Seating" Is a Myth

At the home seating for meals is supposed to be first come, first served. New residents may sit anywhere they choose and no places are reserved for late-comers. The tables accommodate four people and none are reserved for anyone. Some of the residents don't realize that. Several people have managed to get their favorite table near the kitchen or by the window for so long they feel they have staked a claim toit.

Open seating means that I or anyone else is free to occupy any seat we choose as long as no one is currently sitting in it. It does not mean that the seat is reserved for an individual who has not yet arrived but customarily sits there. I am considering seeking out those tables that are may appear to be the regular perch of those who have adopted this ownership attitude and see what happens when I invade the "no man's land." 

Check back later to see what the result is.

Normal People in the Home

The residents at the home are real people, or at least they were before they retired and became part of the vast assembly of the Boomer Generation that has hit Social Security benefit rolls. They worked for businesses and companies like Halliburton and Eli Lily. They were soldiers and sailors and farmers and salesmen; the women were secretaries and teachers and mothers and some if them were soldiers, too. They have surrendered most of the responsibilities for the workplace and government endeavor, but the experience and the wisdom that came for that life is still available and sharp. 

I enjoy their insight and humor at mealtimes and in conversations. Several of the people I consider friends here have arrived at a stage in life where they can view the pain or difficulty of their situation with a calm and tolerant attitude. Humor seems to be one of the major life skills they have achieved.

There are people who live here who have not graduated to that level of life stage development. Some are still fixed at Kolhberg's elementary stages of Moral Development. One contact focused on fairness as the standard of behavior. Some people rest in the prestige of their achievements in the buiness world before retirement. If they don't continue to grow, those victories are soon forgotten by others.    

Retirement and growing old are not excuses for remaining in the same intellectual and psychological state forever. We are always responsible for the way we think and believe. Being a resident of the home doesn't mean we can sit back and let life happen to us. The brain learns and grows as long as we live, and we benefit or suffer as a result. Retirement means we are excused from work, but not from growing and learning.

More People at the Home

At the home three meals are served each day. Although my apartment has a kitchen, I resolved not to use it. I have now lived here for a whole month. Most of the time, I have kept my resolution. I've been out to eat with Becky a few times, and I stayed home and ate peanut butter once or twice. Going to the dining hall is sort of an adventure. Meals are served by an elegant wait staff dressed in white shirts and formal aprons. I mentioned before that the managers serve coffee. We order the special or a fruit plate, sandwich or other alternate entree. There is always a salad or maybe soup, the main course, and dessert.

A large part of the wait staff are high school boys and girls who attend to our needs personally while others are the maids who clean between meals. This is kind of a thrill to be attended and waited on. The guys are fun and funny. Sometimes they are a little awed by all these old people, but their manners are exquisite. For me, it's kind of a thrill.

One of the most interesting and, maybe, scariest aspects of mealtimes is where to sit. We are encouraged to sit with new people or people we don't know to make friends and form a more compatible community. There is no assigned seating. As a matter of fact, we are not supposed to reserve a place for people who have not arrived. Sometimes there is quite a 'to do' about that. The resident council has had complaints about people who have tried to commandeer tables and chairs claiming them like they were personal property.

Today I sat with a gentleman who has been verbally abused by another resident telling him he could not sit at "her table." He is quite deaf and has not been able to get his hearing aids adjusted. I feel a little sorry for him because he seems ostracized and isolated, but he is very pleasant to sit with. I don't have to make polite conversation or listen to endless stories of his grandchildren. I am sure he would be a very competent conversationalist and I would enjoy the event. I look forward to that happening some time in the future. He was a physicist and lectured at the University here. I'm just dying for her to say something to him while I'm sitting with him. I was a psychologist at Coffield--a maximum security men's prison that housed 3500 inmates. I walked the wings three times a week. I can handle this.

People at the Home-

I've been meaning to write about my move to the retirement home ever since I began this process, but somehow, I was too close to the action. I've been here a month now, and I have begun to get bored and depressed. Sometimes I don't like the home. Maybe if I can write about it, I will be able to refocus and get a better perspective.

I'll begin with the people who live and work here. When I first came, my daughter had made all the arrangements, and I just signed the rent check. The staff seemed active and efficient. The Sales director was a ball of energy talking to people daily to spread the word about the facility and it's benefits. He was often in the dining room with prospective residents for a meal. It was sort of inspiring.

But He was the person responsible for making this look like a good idea. The managers were the ones who handled day to day problems, the ones who made living here possible. Managers were husband and wife teams, and when I moved in there were two sets of managers. By the time I had been here a week, one set of managers had been transferred, and the couple that remained had no relief. They did all the office work, assigned all duties to maids, received all reports and forms from dining room, kitchen help, wrote receipts, answered the phone, and responded to emergencies. Both of them served coffee throughout meals three times a day. 

One of the first people I met when I arrived was the young man who coordinated activities. He was very young and had absolutely no concept of the interests of anyone over 25. He walked around or sat at his desk, but he didn't do much but serve popcorn and drinks at the social hour and bingo 3 or 4 times a week.

The schedule listed many events that were his responsibility, but they were not well attended and he did not do anything to change that situation.

He became angry and got in a shouting match with management and was fired. He was replaced by a volunteer who did a good job, but she was a resident and did not want the job full time.  I saw evidence of some of the arts and crafts ideas he had been in charge of, and I was less than impressed. I left that kind of effort in the third grade and I didn't want to return to it.

Meals were served three times a day. Transportation was provided for local trips to doctors, grocery store, Wal-Mart, and church. I had maid service once a week. I could use the washers and driers and the beauty shop. But lots of areas needed attention and I felt sorry for the managers. The shortage of staff and the lack advertised events and services took the snap out of the deal. Check back to see if we ever get things going the right way.