Monday, May 24, 2010
Another day, another assumption blown to bits at the Soldiers Home …
Paul and I have had basically the same conversation every time we’ve seen each other. He says, "Your name is Sandy, short for Sandra," and I say, "And you are Paul, short for Paul." Then he’ll go into the two syllables of Sandy vs. the one of Paul, and sometimes I’ll tell him how I used to think his name was Bo, which is also just one syllable, so I was close.
I kind of thought that was the extent of our interactions, and of Paul.
But today he called me over and told me an entire, detailed story about another resident. The events he related had upset him, so we talked them through and then, kind of stunned, I said I had to go find Mike. Paul said: "You have a new purse."
I was speechless. I did have a new purse, and Paul was the first person—including those I live with—who’d commented on it. "It’s my new summer purse," I finally sputtered. "Thank you for noticing."
Apparently Paul is noticing a lot more than I had given him credit for. My dumb assumption, my loss ... and my lesson.
I ended up doubly grateful for this Paul revelation today, because otherwise my visit was disappointing.
I promised honesty when I started this blog, so here’s the truth: I really didn’t want to go to the Soldiers Home today, and once I got there, I wished I hadn’t. I had a rough (and prolonged) liftoff this morning, thanks to a night of especially bizarre dreams. And after watching the "Lost" finale on DVR, I was a weepy mess by 10 a.m. Then I wasted another hour or so reading about the "Lost" finale and had pretty much justified staying home and blobbing.
But I had told Mike I’d be out Monday around lunchtime, and when I finally diverted my eyes from the TV and computer screens, I realized the sun was out (nice drive!). Plus, I could eat in the car and still get there and back before my son got home from school. So off I went.
But Mike was not in his room, and he hadn’t left me a note like he usually does when he knows I’m coming. I headed outside and tried all his usual haunts, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally I tried the Activity Center, thinking someone in there might have seen him—and there sat Mike. He had come for the Monday Trivia game, along with almost 20 other residents.
Today’s Trivia topic was wars, war history, war leaders, war names and other assorted war tidbits, and except for the four or five folks who’d dozed off, everyone was listening and playing intently. We couldn’t really talk without being rude, so I whispered to Mike that I’d been looking for him for half an hour, and he whispered back that he hadn’t expected me until much later. Argh.
So I just sat there—and learned how much I don’t know about wars. I felt awkward, dumb and kind of put out, although—again—I do realize I’m just dropping in, and this is a chance you take when you’re just dropping in.
But Trivia lasts till 2:30, and I needed to leave at 2:10 to pick up my son, so I leaned over and whispered to Mike that I had to go. He asked when I’d be back, and I said Thursday. And that was it. Not exactly satisfying for anyone, I would imagine. Basically, no one would have noticed had I not been there.
Except maybe Paul. He notices more than you might think.
Another day, another assumption blown to bits at the Soldiers Home …
Paul and I have had basically the same conversation every time we’ve seen each other. He says, "Your name is Sandy, short for Sandra," and I say, "And you are Paul, short for Paul." Then he’ll go into the two syllables of Sandy vs. the one of Paul, and sometimes I’ll tell him how I used to think his name was Bo, which is also just one syllable, so I was close.
I kind of thought that was the extent of our interactions, and of Paul.
But today he called me over and told me an entire, detailed story about another resident. The events he related had upset him, so we talked them through and then, kind of stunned, I said I had to go find Mike. Paul said: "You have a new purse."
I was speechless. I did have a new purse, and Paul was the first person—including those I live with—who’d commented on it. "It’s my new summer purse," I finally sputtered. "Thank you for noticing."
Apparently Paul is noticing a lot more than I had given him credit for. My dumb assumption, my loss ... and my lesson.
I ended up doubly grateful for this Paul revelation today, because otherwise my visit was disappointing.
I promised honesty when I started this blog, so here’s the truth: I really didn’t want to go to the Soldiers Home today, and once I got there, I wished I hadn’t. I had a rough (and prolonged) liftoff this morning, thanks to a night of especially bizarre dreams. And after watching the "Lost" finale on DVR, I was a weepy mess by 10 a.m. Then I wasted another hour or so reading about the "Lost" finale and had pretty much justified staying home and blobbing.
But I had told Mike I’d be out Monday around lunchtime, and when I finally diverted my eyes from the TV and computer screens, I realized the sun was out (nice drive!). Plus, I could eat in the car and still get there and back before my son got home from school. So off I went.
But Mike was not in his room, and he hadn’t left me a note like he usually does when he knows I’m coming. I headed outside and tried all his usual haunts, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally I tried the Activity Center, thinking someone in there might have seen him—and there sat Mike. He had come for the Monday Trivia game, along with almost 20 other residents.
Today’s Trivia topic was wars, war history, war leaders, war names and other assorted war tidbits, and except for the four or five folks who’d dozed off, everyone was listening and playing intently. We couldn’t really talk without being rude, so I whispered to Mike that I’d been looking for him for half an hour, and he whispered back that he hadn’t expected me until much later. Argh.
So I just sat there—and learned how much I don’t know about wars. I felt awkward, dumb and kind of put out, although—again—I do realize I’m just dropping in, and this is a chance you take when you’re just dropping in.
But Trivia lasts till 2:30, and I needed to leave at 2:10 to pick up my son, so I leaned over and whispered to Mike that I had to go. He asked when I’d be back, and I said Thursday. And that was it. Not exactly satisfying for anyone, I would imagine. Basically, no one would have noticed had I not been there.
Except maybe Paul. He notices more than you might think.
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