Helping in Anyway… Volunteering
When I was a child, we used to sing, On Wisconsin. The words began, On, Wisconsin! On, Wisconsin! Grand old badger state! You can hear The Wisconsin State Anthem here.
I was raised in the city. My mother wanted us to be well-rounded. She’d take us to the library, music lessons, museums, and farms. During the summer and fall, my father would drive us to a family farm. My mother would walk up the long drive (my father felt uncomfortable) to ask the farmer if her children could help on the farm. She’d share her desire to expose her children to diverse experiences. She’d assure them that we were well-behaved and obedient. (Well, most of us, anyway!) Most often, the answer was yes. We did chores. The one I remember most is picking apples. I also recall riding (and falling off) a horse.
I’ve served as a volunteer for most of my life. Whether it’s picking greens on a small Mississippi farm (I love greens!), doing search and rescue with a Community Emergency Response Team (CERT), leading community organizations and partnering with government agencies in California, or baiting a hook and cleaning fish (for people who are better at fishing than I) in Wisconsin. Next month and over the Thanksgiving holiday, I’ll be serving for two weeks with the Red Cross following the devastation of Hurricane Helene and now the threat of Milton.
Memory Serves Us Well… It Gives Us Identity
When we can’t remember, we’re lost.
Our memories anchor us. And yet, some of us are better at remembering certain details than others. There’s a lot I recall. There’s also a lot that I think I remember that, someone may remember differently. In those cases, I teasingly say, “This is my story and I’m sticking to it.” One neighbor with a brilliant mind and a PhD, who has since passed, assured me with this caveat, “So long as you agree, that’s not the way it happened.”
When we cannot remember, we struggle. It takes an intense amount of effort to recall something. For as long as I can remember, I have had a weakness with names and faces. Sure, if I pay close attention and play those memory exercises, I may remember. But I meet so many people that it’s hard to keep them fresh in my mind.
I recently shared an experience that illustrates my struggle with a 91-year-old former caregiver I’ve known for over a quarter century: I met a young man at a grocery store with a woman who wasn’t his wife. As we talked, my brain struggled: Why is this man with this other woman? I know you’re going through a divorce, but so fast to find someone else? It wasn’t until he asked me a question that immediately triggered how I knew him. This was my friend’s son and his loving wife. But by this time my brain was so exhausted trying to figure out how I knew these people that I forgot their names!
If memory serves us well, it places us among our friends and family. When it falters, we lose our identity. We struggle, “Who are these people?” “How do I know them?” We withdraw due to embarrassment.
Stepping Back. Relaxing. Time Off.
Now that I’m in Wisconsin, I feel more connected with people like me. Longtime friends, Brenda and Barry, recently built their custom-retirement home in the North woods of Wisconsin. Now all they have to do is retire! Brenda has taken time off work this week so we may hike in the wilderness and enjoy sharing memories.
I enjoy being outdoors where I can breathe deeply the fresh air. Standing quietly, I listen to nature—the wind blowing through the drying fall leaves, the birds, the squirrels, and maybe some unexpected fauna. While the forecasted low temperatures are in the 30s—brrrr—they heat their home enough that I’m not shivering like a Chihuahua.
So far, Brenda and I (the two Brendas) have made blackberry pie with some of the berries (left by the bears) that she and Barry picked and froze. Next, we’ll go apple picking. I always pick way more than I can eat, so I’ll take some to my former client and her husband when I head east. And we’re doing what we enjoy—hiking a lot.
I’ll return refreshed and ready for the next adventure. Thanks to the team at John Knox Village Foundation, I will be co-keynoting at their third annual Aging Greatly Conference next month in Pompano Beach, Florida.
Earlier, I mused about wanting to go home and exploring Japan.
