October 15, 2019 —By Frances Kolarek —
Colorful posters announcing a Wine and Cheese Party appeared a week before Valentine’s Day. We who live independently were invited to join our neighbors in the Health Center, a commingling many of us enjoy.
We gathered in a spacious room flooded with wintry sunlight, a grand piano in one corner, a modest buffet in another. Tables and chairs were arranged to accommodate guests in wheelchairs.
As we wandered in, an energetic younger woman took her place at a table with her husband, a man who had entered with the help of an orderly and an aide, scarcely able to stand.
The pianist, an “independent” volunteer, struck up a familiar love song. The leader handed out a page with the words in handy ring binders. We sang “The Nearness of You,” and I caught a glimpse of my energetic young friend, her arm around her husband’s shoulder, as she joined the singing.
Another song or two followed, and a woman adept at the recorder played a song in memory of her husband — they had been married on Valentine’s Day.
Meanwhile the director of our Health Services, Judy Wohnsiedler, served glasses of wine to those who wanted one and an activities assistant followed with plates loaded with snacks — fresh fruit, cheese and crackers, etc. My energetic new friend smilingly fed her husband slices of apple and cheese and crackers. She caught my eye, and mouthed “My guy!”
“This is a nursing home?” you might ask. Yes. As reluctant as I am to use the hated words, this a glimpse of ours. We call it the Health Center and the party gave its guests an opportunity to socialize, enjoy some music, laugh, and to feel wanted, cared for and nurtured. For us, the independent ones, it was a moment to give thanks for our good fortune.
The hour wore down and the pianist struck up “God Bless America.” No need for song books here. The hall resounded with our voices. As guests began to straggle homeward, a final song rang out — “The Nearness of You.” My energetic young friend gave her husband a hug.
Leaving, I passed our Executive Director standing in the doorway, smiling, approving. And tears rushed to my eyes, tears of gratitude for the knowledge that when I need a greater level of care at some time in the future, I will find it given with compassion and understanding. And yes, with love. Every day is Valentine’s Day.