Louise was her name-o

The smell of urine was prevalent. The halls paved with tile, white and brown, with diamond patterns. As you walked down the main hallway, it split into an pentagon and on each wall in each hallway it had a big colorful calander made of events, pictures of the residents from that wing, and holidays. It was a hallow attempt to make the nursing home look more appealing. I had been volunteering there twice a week for a couple of years when I learned a very important lesson. I'd say it's one of the important, but according to Louise, that wouldn't be true.

Friday night was my favorite night to be there. I volunteered from 2-10. When I got there, I would transport people to the main dining room for the three O' clock "Happy Hour", which consisted of musical entertainment, whatever dessert or snack the kitchen decided to unthaw and serve, and "The special punch" (7 Up with fruit punch). After Happy Hour, I'd visit a lot with people. I learned quickly that all these folks wanted was someone to listen to their stories. Luckily for them, I love to hear stories. Tell me a good story, and you'll have my undivided attention for as long as you want. I met a guy, Joe, who survived Pearl Harbor. He lost his leg, but gained perspective. I met the co-inventor of the toaster. I met a guy who played with the New York Giants in Wille Mays' day. Then I met Louise.

Louise was about as tall as I was at 13, about 5'3, and had amazing blue eyes that stood out all the more with her short, somewhat curley silver hair. She was in her early 90's. She became a journalist for a newspaper here in town as a teenager; the youngest they'd ever hired. Not to mention the shock of hiring a woman in those days. She did that for 30 years, and then became an english teacher for another 20 years.

Her husband had passed away years ago and she had three boys, only one of whom visited. The others were spread thoughout the country. She was legally blind, only could see a foot in front of her, and she loved bingo and Jolly Ranchers.

That was the other reason I loved Friday nights: I got to call bingo. When I started, there was another volunteer probably in his early 20's, who would eventually quit to join the armed forces shortly after 9/11. When he left, I took over. I would go get the regulars, Louise of course being one of them, and we'd have a great night. The stakes weren't high, in fact if I remember correctly, we played for candy. Anyway, I would have Louise and one other gentleman who couldn't see sit with me at my table and I'd help them out as I called the numbers.

Louise and I would have the deepest conversations. I wanted to soak in this woman's experiences and wisdom. I asked her one day what the greatest lesson life ever taught her was. She chewed her Jolly Rancher, thought, and the eyes that couldn't see more than a foot in front of her were looking 90 years into the past for the answer. After a couple of minutes she responded, "You know, I'll tell you when I'm done learning." I let that sink in for a long time. Sometimes, I think I still need time to reflect on it.

A few weeks later I arrived at work, and went immeditately to Louise's room. She wasn't there. I asked her roommate if it was her shower day, or if she had just wondered off somewhere. Her roommate looked at me, genuinely surprised I didn't know. "Dear, she passed away two days ago." My gut not only sunk, I was pretty sure I just didn't have one. "What?" I managed. "Yeah," she said. "She wasn't feeling well, knew she didn't have much left." I'd seen her just a week before, she was fine.

I wondered the halls of a while, looking at all the pictures on the calander. I was in a disbelief. They had told me this would happen. They told me that I'm investing in people who simply won't be here long so don't get too attached. But really, who can do that?

A nurse that I knew from her wing approached me. "You okay?"

"I want to go to the funeral."

"I'll get that information for you. I'm sure she'd want you there." She pulled something from her pocket. "Louise wanted you to have this."

Of course, a Jolly Rancher.

I still have it, as odd as it is. It's been a decade since then, and I'm still haunted and inspired by her words. My only hope is that I never grow tired of learning. That I can't pin point a moment or reflection that meant more than the rest. They all hold weight, and they all shape me. I just hope that I'm never a dried clay, unable to be reshaped. Because of Louise, I will always have a seekers heart.