April 5, 2011 by David Gillaspie
The Last Best Thing, The New Adventure
What do you do when you close your eyes at night?
Imagine a picture, a scene from an important moment?
Remember a favorite song from a special time?
Recall the feeling a good novel left you with?
Maybe you say a few words to those who came before you, for those coming after.
Do you thank your forbearers for laying the foundation you build your life on; wish for the safety of those following?
You know they are making the same wish for you.
The kids and grandkids are set. You sold your house and moved to a retirement community.
It’s time to bring things in closer and reach out more.
You can’t do that night after night if you don’t have a sense of your own security, can you?
In times like these, security is scarce. This is when you reach to the places security lives.
It’s not the bank, or the hospital; not the church, or the family.
It’s in you.
With your bases covered and you’re still feeling anxious, it’s time take that inventory.
Go through the list. Can you believe everything will work out? That everything will be all right?
You can if you live where hallways are street names and not directional.
You can if you have the sort of art on the walls that make you stop time after time.
You can if you’ve got more to do in one day than you did in a month before you moved.
Since you’re a good reader, you’ve paid attention to what happens close to you. When your grandparents gutters overflow on their house do they call you, or does granddad climb up the ladder himself?
When a tree needs trimming, do they call you, or does granddad climb up the ladder with a chainsaw?
Talk to him about it. Talk to grandma. Chances are he’ll wonder what’s the big deal, he’s been on that ladder all his life. Maybe granny says the same thing.
“Besides, we don’t want to bother you with every little thing, honey.”
When the action in their house slows down to the necessities of hygiene and food, ask them about it. These are proud people. They might say, “Mind your own damn business.”
Don’t let that hurt your feelings. You might say the same thing.
Just know you are right in asking.
Security is in short supply. Tell them that. Tell them you want to see them enjoy their lives more, that they’ve got more to do than turn on a television.
Say it in a nice way. Sometimes the nice part is hard to capture when you think someone ought to change their lives.
It is easier when you have a reference. It is easier after you visit the Beaverton Lodge.
Because it carries a sense of place, the same sense you get when you grow up on one street. At Beaverton Lodge you make the same choices you made as a kid: Take a swim in the pool? Play a game of pool? Hit the library? Catch a movie?
You get to learn what every military brat learned while his parents moved from post to post: make new friends, find things in common, and have a good time.
Does that sound like a good day in a retirement residence, or just a good day?
At the Beaverton Lodge it’s the same thing.
By David Gillaspie