ગંગોત્રી-SARYU PARIKH

          It was February 5, 2005. I was attending my seventh annual “Appreciation Lunch” for volunteers, organized by the Literacy Council of Fort Bend in Texas. We had a guest speaker, Mr. Michael Biasini. He was relating his life story, “Overcoming Obstacles,” which could be found in Chicken Soup for the Soul - 6^th Edition. At the end of his emotional presentation, he announced, “I want to give this book to the person whose birthday is closest to today.” My birthday happened to be on the 6^th, and in my birth-place India, it was already the 6^th. So Mr. Biasini presented to me an autographed copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul. I read a few stories and put it away on the bookshelf.       

  In the next few months, I thought several times about stopping by my neighborhood nursing home. My natural helping aptitude was urging me to do some volunteer work with the elderly residents. Finally, one day in April I went in and inquired. The receptionist was busy doing several things and made me wait for a while. When I expressed an interest in reading to the seniors she seemed a bit uncertain, but she gave me a contact name and number. After a few attempts over the next few days, I did get hold of that person. Very quickly she told me to “come at 2pm on Monday.”

           When I arrived at the home the following Monday, I was received by a young man who led me to a room full of elderly people, most of whom were stricken with Alzheimer’s. He was setting up a movie to show the residents that they had already seen.He said most of the patients did not watch the rnovie the first time, and those who did forgot it quickly. I was there for about half an hour, but I could not connect with anybody. “What am I doing here?” I asked myself. I decided to leave, but on my way out I ran into the lady in charge. Somehow I heard myself telling her, “I will come back on Friday.” Friday came and I was struggling with myself as to whether I should go back or just forget the whole thing! In the early morning I decided that I would go one more time, and if someone is waiting for me I would find that person.

         I entered the home and saw an elderly resident  sat there enjoying, “The Price isRight” on television. I proceeded to walk to the same room that had been filled with residents on Monday so that I might find that same young man. I waited around for what seemed like a long time, observing all those patients being helped by the employees, lost in their own worlds. I thought, “That’s it, I tried. I cannot be of any use here.” Coming back to the reception area, I noticed that same elderly lady still sitting near the television with her walker in front of her. I sat next to her and introduced myself to her. She said her name was Helen. She turned out to be very alert and talkative. She knew all about current news events and seemed very smart. She said she enjoyed listening to the television since her eyesight had deteriorated. I told her I would love to come and read to her if she would like! She was totally delighted to hear that. When she found out that I am from India, she excitedly said, “Oh, I know some good Indian people. I like Indian food, especially the   “ naan-bread.”   She said her friend Nell would also want to join us.  I promised her that I will come back to read to them twice a week. I walked out of that nursing home with a smile on my face. I realized in my heart that Helen was waiting for me to come. It was meant to be.

          I started planning - what should I read to these ladies!  Maybe some magazine? All of a sudden I remembered THAT book. I was sure that these ladies would like to listen to real-life stories. So our first reading session started with “Overcoming Obstacles” from the book Chicken Soup for the Soul.I decided to read to the ladies on Monday and Friday mornings for one hour. That first Friday I went looking for Ms. Helen in her room. She was rushing to meet me. She said she was a little late but next time she would be ready and waiting in the front dining room. From then on she kept her word. Most of the time she would be accompanied by her friend,  Ms. Nell. She was a delicate, quiet lady. She loved to read books. She had a little difficulty with her hearing, but she was happy that I was going to read to them. She was eighty-nine years young, one year older than Ms. Helen and forty years senior to me. They both made me feel young, saying, “Oh, you have many years ahead of you.” Ms. Nell was raised on a farm and had worked very hard all her life. Even now in the nursing home she had signed up to help other residents. Ms, Helen would say about her, “Isn’t she a pretty thing! She used to be a model in her younger days.” Upon my inquiries she told me that she used to model clothes for some stores. She was delighted to talk about her lovely daughter, grandchildren and her newborn great-grandchild.

           Ms Helen had worked in a bank. She had lived all her life in upstate New York and recently moved to Houston to be near her children. She would say, “Wherever you live, you have to like it. I like it here.” She was sharp. Whenever I stumbled upon any word, she would promptly give me the meaning of it. She always carried a Bingo game board with her, and as soon they sat at the table, the game would start. Lately she had had a hard time differentiating the dots, so Ms. Nell would help. When I used to bring the naan - the Indian bread - very lovingly she would thank me and share it with whoever was bold enough to try it. Ms. Helen and Ms. Nell valued their friendship dearly.

           One day we talked about cremation and burial customs. I told them about our Hindu customs. Ms. Helen said, “A long time ago I had decided to be cremated and have my ashes buried next to my husband in New York State. I don’t want to trouble my
children with having to send my body all the way over there,” I was surprised at her clear thinking and her unorthodox attitude. She was so curious to discuss and know about other religions. I would many times read from TIME about the current events and world
peace, with enthusiastic participation by the ladies. 

    One day, Ms Nell seemed very nervous. She very quietly listened to a story for a
while, and then said, “I won’t be here next Monday. The doctor examined my ears and told me to go to his office for some procedure to clean them. He said it will be simple but
I am afraid,” I told her, “Give me your hands.” She put her delicate hands on the table. I held them gently and looking into her eyes told her,” You will be all right.” With teary eyes she nodded her head.              

        The following Friday, when I walked into the dining room, Ms Nell was all smiles! Excitedly, she told me, “Oh, the procedure did not hurt me and now I can hear so much better.”Our reading sessions continued twice a week.

  Ms. Ever started joining us on a regular basis, but there were times she had to leave to help her younger invalid sister. Once, when I was reading a story about a cancer patient, she told us about losing a son to cancer. Accepting this God-given situation was one way for her to achieve peace of mind. Once in a while, some other residents would come and park their wheelchairs next to our table and share their life stories. Often, some of the ladies would be getting manicures by one of the employees during my readings.

      One day, I was invited to join a cake party. I came upon one Alzheimer’s patient who was from my country, speaking only in my mother tongue, Gujarati. I sat there holding her hand while she continuously recited a nursery rhyme. It made me feel so humble to realize that the mightiest organ in my body is my brain, and it is so fragile. One day, these people were productive members of the society. Today, they cannot even remember their own names. One lady in another wheelchair was not able to wipe her own mouth, and she was grumbling, “I have to find an apartment - will you help me?”

    It was the month of July, and Ms. Helen was looking forward to a trip to attend her granddaughter’s wedding. She returned, very happy from that family reunion. As I listened to her stories, I could see that a positive attitude prevailed in her every-day life. She said, “Everything was so nice, I enjoyed myself.” I never heard any complaints from her.

        Months passed by. I also started to read other novels to the residents. But I think that I had received the gift of Chicken Soup for the Soul for the purpose of reading it to these ladies. And I feel their love when very affectionately they ask me, “Now which story are you going to read to us today?”

Saryu Parikh

Note: July 2008. I continue to visit Ms.Nell since Dear Ms.Helen  passed away a few months ago.