Celebration of life and what most likely will be
During my work week, reporting whatever is thrown at me, I’m put in some pretty awkward or otherwise uncomfortable situations if it wasn’t for my sense of humor. And Friday was a doozy, but luckily it involved the demographic I’m oddly comfortable with thanks to the years I tagged along with my mother during her home health nursing visits.
I’m talking about old people. I get along really well with old people.
Now if you’re reading this at the age of 50 or 60-something and are starting to get offended by my 20-something-year-old babble, cool you’re fucking jets. I attended a birthday party for a 104-year-old and a 106-year old. I can call them old.
I was invited to the party, held at one of the nursing homes in the town I work in, as a member of the local media to highlight the special occasion. Among the two century-plus January birthday residents were other residents who were 90 or older present to partake in the festivities.
The residents enjoyed sweets—cake, chocolate covered strawberries, donut holes— and were entertained by the local middle school choir (which was actually much better than what y
ou are thinking of right now). Some chatted with visiting relatives, while others snoozed in their wheelchairs. One 90-year-old woman with a mustache told me how she would much rather a sandwich than cake, because she was really hungry. Another had to wipe the drool from her mouth every time she formed the letter “s.”
One woman and I had a make-believe conversation, as I struggled to ask for her name since she was in the background of one of my photos. I didn’t understand what she was saying, and it was pretty obvious that she had no idea what I was talking about. But we held hands and smiled at each other for about a minute, exchanging dialog that neither of us understood.
When the nurse stepped in to help, she asked me, “Are you alright?”
I answered, “Oh yea, we’re fine. We’re just having a pretend conversation.”
I did not find humor in these occurrences at the time, and I still don’t (well, it was funny when the make-believe conversation lady spit her tongue at me. I laughed). I’m just trying to paint a scene for you.
But what I did find hilarious and inspiring was one 90-plus-year-old lady who was happily making train sounds. She wasn’t making them to herself. She wasn’t sitting quietly letting conversations go on around her.
No. She had something to tell you. And she told everyone, “The train in Naplate goes woo-wooo every night!”
This lady—who was very little with no teeth and sat in a bed-like wheelchair to accommodate her crippling body—belted “woooo-woooooooooooo” and she didn’t care what you thought.
I’d also like to point out that the 104-year-old man and the 106-year-old woman were very coherent. They knew what was going on, they’d answer your questions and reflected on their lives (but neither one could hear worth a damn).
If I had the opportunity to choose which of the extremes I’d like to be if I mature beyond 90 years, of course I’d chose the sharp-as-a-tack, walks-around-the-nursing-home-for-exercise, out-lived-both-of-her-husbands 106-year-old woman.
But something tells me that I’ll probably end up like the woman yelling “wooo-wooo” in the corner to anyone who will listen. And I hope when that day comes, a silly camera-wielding reporter will make the same horn-pulling gestures I did to acknowledge that someone did listen.
***Photos aquired from Google
Now if you’re reading this at the age of 50 or 60-something and are starting to get offended by my 20-something-year-old babble, cool you’re fucking jets. I attended a birthday party for a 104-year-old and a 106-year old. I can call them old.
I was invited to the party, held at one of the nursing homes in the town I work in, as a member of the local media to highlight the special occasion. Among the two century-plus January birthday residents were other residents who were 90 or older present to partake in the festivities.
The residents enjoyed sweets—cake, chocolate covered strawberries, donut holes— and were entertained by the local middle school choir (which was actually much better than what y
ou are thinking of right now). Some chatted with visiting relatives, while others snoozed in their wheelchairs. One 90-year-old woman with a mustache told me how she would much rather a sandwich than cake, because she was really hungry. Another had to wipe the drool from her mouth every time she formed the letter “s.”One woman and I had a make-believe conversation, as I struggled to ask for her name since she was in the background of one of my photos. I didn’t understand what she was saying, and it was pretty obvious that she had no idea what I was talking about. But we held hands and smiled at each other for about a minute, exchanging dialog that neither of us understood.
When the nurse stepped in to help, she asked me, “Are you alright?”
I answered, “Oh yea, we’re fine. We’re just having a pretend conversation.”
I did not find humor in these occurrences at the time, and I still don’t (well, it was funny when the make-believe conversation lady spit her tongue at me. I laughed). I’m just trying to paint a scene for you.
But what I did find hilarious and inspiring was one 90-plus-year-old lady who was happily making train sounds. She wasn’t making them to herself. She wasn’t sitting quietly letting conversations go on around her.
No. She had something to tell you. And she told everyone, “The train in Naplate goes woo-wooo every night!”
This lady—who was very little with no teeth and sat in a bed-like wheelchair to accommodate her crippling body—belted “woooo-woooooooooooo” and she didn’t care what you thought.
I’d also like to point out that the 104-year-old man and the 106-year-old woman were very coherent. They knew what was going on, they’d answer your questions and reflected on their lives (but neither one could hear worth a damn).
If I had the opportunity to choose which of the extremes I’d like to be if I mature beyond 90 years, of course I’d chose the sharp-as-a-tack, walks-around-the-nursing-home-for-exercise, out-lived-both-of-her-husbands 106-year-old woman.But something tells me that I’ll probably end up like the woman yelling “wooo-wooo” in the corner to anyone who will listen. And I hope when that day comes, a silly camera-wielding reporter will make the same horn-pulling gestures I did to acknowledge that someone did listen.
***Photos aquired from Google
I love this! Beautiful. And I'll be there with you at 90-something seeing who can "woo-woooo" the loudest :)
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the author is absolutely right agree with every word
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Awesome post and thanks for sharing it. How to subscribe on your blog ???
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Wonderful post! I like your blog, and am a regular follower. I will be back monday!
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