Thursday, April 26, 2012
Today was the annual Volunteer Appreciation luncheon at the Soldiers Home —amazingly, my fourth. The big U-shaped table was packed with people: many I know, several I’ve seen around and some brand-new faces. I slipped into an empty chair next to Peggy just in time for the Activities staff to formally thank us, and just in time for us to go around the table and share our stories.
I am an editor for a reason (extreme introversion!), and public speaking gives me the willies, even at a warm lunch filled with generous souls. I somehow stammered that as much as I appreciated the staff thanking us, the Soldiers Home has in fact saved my life more than once. I meant every stammer.
The exercise was surprisingly poignant. One woman cried while she tried to describe how special this place is, and I teared up as Terry and Janet related how they had just kept coming back to the Soldiers Home, doing whatever they could to stay connected, even after Janet’s mother, a former resident, had died.
We watched a sweet video the Activities staff had compiled, and it warmed my heart with validation—and, yes, appreciation—to see a picture of Doreen, “other Sandy” and me behind the refreshment table, and one with Ray and me at the Valentines Dinner.
I also sat next to Walt, a man I’d never met. I don’t know what it is that compels older men to tell me their stories, but I am immensely thankful for it, because I find them fascinating. By the time we left, I knew a lot about Walt—and I like him very much.
Walt is retired from the Navy. He told me all the ships he’d served on, from the Intrepid to a Washington, D.C., research vessel; how he got from one post to another; where he came from (Ohio); and how he ended up in Seattle.
My favorite Walt chapter, however, involved another Doreen: the sweet woman on the other side of him.
“I’ve been with Doreen for a few months,” Walt said out of nowhere. Walt’s wife died a little over a year ago, he said, and he had bowled with Doreen’s husband, who died about five years ago. Walt and Doreen had known each other through the American Legion for years, he said, and then suddenly reconnected on a much more important level.
Doreen was eating and appeared to have no idea he was talking about her. I was done eating, and grinning from ear to ear.
“Your story is very inspiring,” I told Walt. “May I take your picture?”
Doreen was on board, and they agreed together that they’d like to stand together. They were so amazingly comfortable with each other, and in sync, and casual about their wonderful still-new connection, I almost cried. But instead I smiled.
I told them about this website, and I told them they’d be celebrities, if the two people who read this are empowered to declare celebrity status.
And then I told them I’d mention that Walt is in charge of the American Legion’s big annual parade, which runs for a mile and a half through West Seattle every July—but this year they need to secure $7,000 to pay the city to erect street barricades. Walt’s a little concerned about raising that much money so quickly.
If you’re one of the two people reading this and you’d like to show your own appreciation by helping an amazing veteran carry on a meaningful tradition, please donate here: http://thewestseattleparade.com/Donate.html. It'd be very, very much appreciated by many.
Today was the annual Volunteer Appreciation luncheon at the Soldiers Home —amazingly, my fourth. The big U-shaped table was packed with people: many I know, several I’ve seen around and some brand-new faces. I slipped into an empty chair next to Peggy just in time for the Activities staff to formally thank us, and just in time for us to go around the table and share our stories.
I am an editor for a reason (extreme introversion!), and public speaking gives me the willies, even at a warm lunch filled with generous souls. I somehow stammered that as much as I appreciated the staff thanking us, the Soldiers Home has in fact saved my life more than once. I meant every stammer.
The exercise was surprisingly poignant. One woman cried while she tried to describe how special this place is, and I teared up as Terry and Janet related how they had just kept coming back to the Soldiers Home, doing whatever they could to stay connected, even after Janet’s mother, a former resident, had died.
We watched a sweet video the Activities staff had compiled, and it warmed my heart with validation—and, yes, appreciation—to see a picture of Doreen, “other Sandy” and me behind the refreshment table, and one with Ray and me at the Valentines Dinner.
I also sat next to Walt, a man I’d never met. I don’t know what it is that compels older men to tell me their stories, but I am immensely thankful for it, because I find them fascinating. By the time we left, I knew a lot about Walt—and I like him very much.
Walt is retired from the Navy. He told me all the ships he’d served on, from the Intrepid to a Washington, D.C., research vessel; how he got from one post to another; where he came from (Ohio); and how he ended up in Seattle.
My favorite Walt chapter, however, involved another Doreen: the sweet woman on the other side of him.
“I’ve been with Doreen for a few months,” Walt said out of nowhere. Walt’s wife died a little over a year ago, he said, and he had bowled with Doreen’s husband, who died about five years ago. Walt and Doreen had known each other through the American Legion for years, he said, and then suddenly reconnected on a much more important level.
Doreen was eating and appeared to have no idea he was talking about her. I was done eating, and grinning from ear to ear.
“Your story is very inspiring,” I told Walt. “May I take your picture?”
Doreen was on board, and they agreed together that they’d like to stand together. They were so amazingly comfortable with each other, and in sync, and casual about their wonderful still-new connection, I almost cried. But instead I smiled.
I told them about this website, and I told them they’d be celebrities, if the two people who read this are empowered to declare celebrity status.
And then I told them I’d mention that Walt is in charge of the American Legion’s big annual parade, which runs for a mile and a half through West Seattle every July—but this year they need to secure $7,000 to pay the city to erect street barricades. Walt’s a little concerned about raising that much money so quickly.
If you’re one of the two people reading this and you’d like to show your own appreciation by helping an amazing veteran carry on a meaningful tradition, please donate here: http://thewestseattleparade.com/Donate.html. It'd be very, very much appreciated by many.