Instead of talking about the “nursing home,”  “patients” and “residents,” I prefer to talk about Mom’s “neighborhood” and “neighbors.” It’s not just semantics; it truly is a difference in attitude. I’m visiting their home, and I do my best to make it feel as welcoming a home as possible.

Being neighborly was the way of life, growing up, even though our rural, country block was five miles around, and a corn field separated us from each of our immediate neighbors. Mom used to pack extra baskets with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers or strawberries from the multi-acre garden, and Sis and I would hand deliver them up and down the streets and pleasantly surprise the Clarks and Tolands, whose gardens could never compare to ours.

It was what we did.

While Mom’s neighborhood is much smaller and much different today, I am my mother’s daughter, and being neighborly is still what I do. Today, I believe it is ever so much more important than it used to be.

While everyone works so hard to keep things from spreading in a nursing home, I like to spread a neighborly spirit.  (So do others in my support group.)

“Hi Mary! You are walking extremely well today!” The former Arthur Murray Dance Studio teacher stops and chats for a few minutes, and includes an invitation to see her new room decorations. I accept.

“Milly, were you listening to me sing with Mom?” “Uh huh!”  “Did it bring back good memories?” “Uh huh!”  “You can listen to us sing anytime you want to. You have a wonderful weekend!” Her eyes sparkle and she gives me a broad grin with her, “Uh huh” - the only thing she can say. She clearly understands. She just can’t talk. “I’ll drop by and say, 'Hi' again tomorrow.” “Uh huh!” 

When Mom first entered a nursing home, I used to focus straight ahead, lost in my own narrow world or worries, immersed seven days a week in helping her relearn how to walk, eat and talk.

Eventually, I learned that pausing, just for a few seconds, and looking directly in the eyes of a resident, while sharing a warm greeting was received as a gift.

It felt good, too. Really good.

Until recently, I thought Gary couldn’t talk. I was way too quick to judge. He’s just quiet! “Gary, good to see you, as usual.” And his face and eyes shine brightly, in response.  “I finally got my motorcycle out, for the first time in three years! About time, isn’t it.”  “Yes, it is.”  “You like the idea of a gal riding a motorcycle.” “You bet!” “Thought you would.”

I drop by the solarium and TV room to see if Craig is around. “Hi Craig! Great to see you.”  “Yeh, yeh,” as he grabs and holds my hand. 

“Yeh” is Craig’s only word. But he too, clearly understands everything.

“It is getting awfully hot in here in the sun. Do you want me to get an aid to wheel you back to a cooler spot?” “Yeh!”  “Before I do, why don’t you wipe your mouth. You have a little strawberry short cake around your lips, and its making me hungry.” And I hand him a tissue.  He can move his left hand and arm, enough to feed himself, but that’s about it. “Much better. I’ll be right back with the aid.” “Yeh, yeh!”
 
While Mom is in her exercise class, I drop by and talk to her neighbor Jane, who can rarely leave her bed. 

And before leaving, I track down Rachel, catch her attention and clearly speak, “Hello,” while I wish once again that I would take the extra time to learn sign language. Rachel, always makes a point to catch my attention and say, “Hi!” to me as well.

A visit just isn’t right without her smile.  

I started with greetings, then added in a few hand holdings and hugs. On Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, I delivered personalized cards, and received a few tears of happiness for my extra efforts.

These are distinct individuals. Like you. Like me. I know few of their stories, but they are still my extra special friends, who frequently make me grin ear to ear.

Awhile back I stopped by Craig’s room and we came to an understanding.

 “Craig, I tracked you down to say ‘Hi’ several times last weekend, but you never responded. Not once. You looked right through me. That worried me. I don’t know if you didn’t feel well, or just didn’t want to talk to me. That’s your choice. But you need to understand that I reach out to you, not just to make you feel good, but to make me feel good. Because, when you give me a genuine smile, you brighten up my day.  We’re good for each other. Understand?” He smiled broadly, and exclaimed, “Yeh, yeh!”  “Just remember that.” 

Now he smiles, and holds my hand. And it does make me feel really good.

These are Mom’s neighbors. Our people. We care about each other.

In the rush of life, I try to pause and take an extra moment, here and there, to check in on them. It is the neighborly thing to do.

To those who do the same for Mom: Thank you.

I’ve been sharing this philosophy with my siblings, nieces and nephews, and hope they will pass it along. Who knows: Some day that could be my neighborhood.