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An early fear of mine was visiting the nursing home where my mother's mother ended up. The last time I physically saw her her mind was gone. She had been taken from a private room and was now in a dormitory setting with rows of beds (much like in Air Force basic training). I was young--about 12 or 13 or so. She had never been a pleasant lady and I suspect SOME of my own mother's demons can be traced back to her. I never felt she received any pleasure in our company. To be very honest I hated the visits to her home prior to the sequestering because we were made to sit in chairs the entire time and not play--the noise bothered her. I suspect my talent for enduring long boring periods of inactivity originated from this early form of child discipline. As a child I found adult conversation incredibly boring--did none of them read Flash Gordon or Dick tracy in the comics and wonder how our intrepid heroes would survive?? Sigh.

The fear of losing my mind has never quite gone away. I like to take responsibility or run from my actions as appropriate. Probably why I never have been drunk--I want full credit for being a fool.

In early 2006 when I first came across Litnet I was recovering my moral center from the delayed but devastating mid-life crisis. Having come out of a short but furious life style of total selfishness in action and I thought it was past time I did something for someone else for a change that would not put me in a situation where control slipped thru my fingers and life took a nasty turn. For the record God was merciful and I had it coming. A ton of self righteous attitudes got knocked out of me--but darn there seems to be plenty left for God to prune away but that's an ongoing project. But the delivery was relatively pain free and I'm much more behaved these days.

A very long time ago (Logos probably wasn't even born then) I heard a sermon once in which some ideas for good works by Chrisitans were mentioned and one phrase about going to hospitals and writing letters for patients stuck with me but as Master Procrastinator extraordinaire I never followed thru.

I decided to visit one of the nursing homes here in Fairborn and volunteer for such an activity. Also to help overcome my fear of these facilities and try to make a more productive use of my off time. When you're on second shift say farewell to a normal social life (which doesn't bother me THAT much as being a social butterfly was never a life style I practiced in earnest).

To qualify -- the four weeks or so that this project took place every worker I met was enthusiastic and friendly and encouraging. They really seemed to enjoy their work.

BUT

The residents were a mixed bag to be sure.

The activities director asked if I would mind reading to the people at 11 am before their lunch in the dining hall. I have a deep voice and I can project if I apply attention to it. I tried some Bible reading material mixed with a chapter from Lad: A Dog and one week in a bit of daring--a Continental Op story from Dashiell Hammett. I never really knew if anyone was comprehending. One Lothario was openly flirting with two ladies (while telling me about his wife who visits once a week he said)--one lady enjoying the attention--the other very much NOT so. There was quite an age range among them. One lady in her forties (it appeared) seemed to be there in a transition state--waiting to be moved to a new facility.

I stopped the visits after about five weeks. The reasons seem shallow now but seemed larger then life back then. One week I appeared and the dining hall was closed for a dinner party for that night to be set up. The residents I read to were in their TV room so I went there and to my dismay they all walked or wheel-chaired out when their TV got turned off. Also in my entire 4-5 weeks NO ONE on staff EVER asked me anything about myself in way of a security check. I'm still not certain they even knew my name. There were supposed to be three other readers but I never saw them and my attendance was fair during this period. This was a bit more trust then I could accept. I was walking hallways--and while being greeted was never challenged. I found myself daydreaming about hitting on old ladies to get there wills changed and purses riffled--the drama queen can be an imaginative mischief maker. The old flirt's hasrassing of the one lady offended me personally because I wondered if I was watching MY future. Ultimately I believe I quit becaue I did not see the results of any of my efforts. I confess this with shame. I now had a better attitude about facilities but the attitude of 'most' of the elderly discouraged me. I know we shouldn't expect thank-yous all the time but they seemed so childlike and petulant. This was a healing time for me which I was just beginning. I simply stopped showing up--it was having an effect on my job with the sleep schedule but the pettiness of that excuse is to prove to any readers that I at least am willing to fess up to the failings in my character. At least most of them.