I’ve had three dogs who did therapy work – Izzy, Lenore, and Red. Lenore’s hospice career was cut short when patient’s food began disappearing from trays. She was, of course, a Lab, and her appetite sometimes was bigger than her great heart.
Izzy and Red had the gift, and I never fully understood it, even as I wondered at it. Madeline has just arrived at the Mansion, and I can only imagine how big a transition that must be for her. She was poised, calm and cheerful, a brave and grounded human being.
She sounded like the tough, seasoned Brooklyn native that she is.
If she showed any emotion at all, it was when Red came up to her and put his head in her lap and looked up to her, I could see by the way she touched and held him how much that meant to her. At 94, Madeline is very much alive and in the world, and we’ll get her over to Bedlam Farm as soon as there is a nice and warm day.
Red and I have been visiting Connie for several weeks now, she and I have never really spoken, Red goes right to her and she touches him and holds him and talks to him, there is nothing for me to say. But I have learned in this work to take my time and look deeper, the people I meet reveal themselves over time, and there is always much more than I have seen or recognized.
Connie is mostly confined to her room, she is on oxygen and bends over. I have never really seen her face. Bit by bit, I have begun to talk to her, I tripped on a large can and saw that she is a knitter, she loves to knit. She would love some yarn, she said, when I asked her.
Then I saw on her table a large stack of mysteries from mostly women mystery writers. I told her I once wrote mysteries myself and she and I talked about the mysteries we both love. Two things I learned about her that I did not know and might not have guessed – it is always wrong to make assumptions about people.
Working with the aged, it is easy to guess what they are about, what they might or might not do. I am often surprised and have learned not to take the time to talk and ask and listen. There are now three ways I can help Connie and connect to her, I can bring Red, bring yarn, bring mysteries.
The dog is a gateway, a path to connection and meaning.
We have the medicines and technology to keep people alive longer than ever, but we have failed to consider how they ought to live, even as they live longer than ever. We push them out of sight and mind and every acknowledgement of their life from the outside is a connection to their souls and hearts, both very much alive and feeling.
In this way, relationships deepen, and I grow even as I see. If you wish to write to Connie, you can do so care of Connie, The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
There are three billboards now at the Mansion Assisted Care Facility in Cambridge, N.Y., and many more cards and letters in the private rooms of the residents. Two weeks ago, I said people who wish to communicate with the residents Red and I are visiting could write them c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
I cannot tell you how much these messages, crafts and cards – and my portraits – mean to the residents and to the very dedicated staff. People have sent stuffed animals, crafts, afghans, pillows, notes and cards, even some chocolate. When I walk into the building with Red, I am usually greeted by some incredulous staff members who say nothing like this has happened before.
I never imagined so many people would respond in so gracious and loving a way. Shame on me for that.
I am humbled by your love and generosity, I usually blush and stammer, I honestly don’t know what to say when people thank me, I had just about nothing to do with it. I have written before about the isolation of the very old, they are cut off from the very human things they loved the most in the world.
When they receive letters and cards, this human connection is re-established. It’s says there are people who know about them and care about them, the same feeling evoked when a dog puts his head on a knee. It re-connects people to their own humanity.
These letters and packages matter, every resident I met talked about the letters and cards they are receiving, there are very many at the Mansion who get few or no messages from the outside world.
I don’t really know what to say, except thank you, small acts of great kindness, an affirmation that people are good, given the chance, a tonic and antidote to the ugliness and hatred raging around us. Thank you. For anyone who wishes to write, the address is 11 S.Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Your words matter.
Madeline moved into the Mansion Assisted Care Facility this week, she spent almost all of her life in Brooklyn, the country is strange for her, Red spotted her right away and the two bonded immediately. I was impressed with Madeline, she is 94 years old and in strong and good health. She is eager to visit the farm if the winter doesn’t settle in and grip all of us.
I am, as always, struck by Red’s ability to see the people who wish to connect to him and avoid those who don’t. Not everyone in the Mansion wants to be with a therapy dog, and Red seems to have radar that tells him who is who. We are going back to see Madeline on Monday.
I will write more about the letters, cards, aghans, stuffed animals, letters and cards and crafts pouring into the Mission from you very good people reading the blog. The Mansion has set up three separate billboards to show off some, not all of the cards. The residents are sharing them, reading them, appreciating them tremendously. Thank you so much, you can write to the residents of the Mansion at: The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
