1-year-old Ken Levick, right, with his 4-year-old brother Raymond.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
My new friend Ken is an amazing man. I interviewed him today and learned about his military service, his stint as chief of the Des Moines (Washington) Fire Department and his lovely bride Betty. I also learned I am even more of a technical nitwit than I had thought.
Ken was telling a rousing story about a surprise meeting with a buddy in the Navy, and my videocamera just froze. So did I. Apparently its internal memory was full. As I squinted at the teeny screen and tried ineptly to free up some space, Ken kind of mockingly asked, “Where are your glasses?” As if everyone Of A Certain Age should wear glasses. Well, yes. I guess he had a point.
I finally got us back on record—I hope—and Ken invited me into his room to see his family photos. He told me his wife Betty is “as pretty today as the day I met her,” and has applied to move into the Soldiers Home herself. He showed me the nearly 90-year-old photo (above) of a 1-year-old Ken with his 4-year-old brother Raymond. And as I thanked him for his time, and for sharing his story, we agreed we’d like to talk some more, just for fun.
Next, I stopped in to see Mike, and we went to the recreation therapy office, where I’d arranged to use a computer to show him this site. (There aren’t many Internet opportunities at the Soldiers Home. Ray McDade, for one, has a personal hooked-up computer in his room, but the ones for general use have no online access. Rumor has it there were some “issues” when they tried it before.) Mike couldn’t really see the screen well enough to read it, and we couldn’t get the pages to print, so it wasn’t exactly the emotional experience I had hoped for. But as we scrolled through, looking mostly at pictures, I pointed out the handmade leather purse Mike had given me, and the recreation therapist left the room. She came back lugging a gorgeous leather bowling-ball case Mike had created completely from scratch. It is amazing. And it is still in use--. it now holds a specially equipped ball (with a handle instead of holes) that the residents can use on bowling outings.
It’s quite a creation—and quite a legacy. All of it really: the residents, their stories, their work. And all worth preserving, and honoring.
My new friend Ken is an amazing man. I interviewed him today and learned about his military service, his stint as chief of the Des Moines (Washington) Fire Department and his lovely bride Betty. I also learned I am even more of a technical nitwit than I had thought.
Ken was telling a rousing story about a surprise meeting with a buddy in the Navy, and my videocamera just froze. So did I. Apparently its internal memory was full. As I squinted at the teeny screen and tried ineptly to free up some space, Ken kind of mockingly asked, “Where are your glasses?” As if everyone Of A Certain Age should wear glasses. Well, yes. I guess he had a point.
I finally got us back on record—I hope—and Ken invited me into his room to see his family photos. He told me his wife Betty is “as pretty today as the day I met her,” and has applied to move into the Soldiers Home herself. He showed me the nearly 90-year-old photo (above) of a 1-year-old Ken with his 4-year-old brother Raymond. And as I thanked him for his time, and for sharing his story, we agreed we’d like to talk some more, just for fun.
Next, I stopped in to see Mike, and we went to the recreation therapy office, where I’d arranged to use a computer to show him this site. (There aren’t many Internet opportunities at the Soldiers Home. Ray McDade, for one, has a personal hooked-up computer in his room, but the ones for general use have no online access. Rumor has it there were some “issues” when they tried it before.) Mike couldn’t really see the screen well enough to read it, and we couldn’t get the pages to print, so it wasn’t exactly the emotional experience I had hoped for. But as we scrolled through, looking mostly at pictures, I pointed out the handmade leather purse Mike had given me, and the recreation therapist left the room. She came back lugging a gorgeous leather bowling-ball case Mike had created completely from scratch. It is amazing. And it is still in use--. it now holds a specially equipped ball (with a handle instead of holes) that the residents can use on bowling outings.
It’s quite a creation—and quite a legacy. All of it really: the residents, their stories, their work. And all worth preserving, and honoring.
The bowling-ball bag Mike Marquie created.
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