I encountered somewhere the "lemon" theory of human life span. People are like cars. Most of us go into a gradual decline in our 40s or 50s or 60s and die in our 70s or 80s, just like cars that develop more and more rattles and clunks and eventually become too expensive to maintain. But once in a while you meet a car, or a person, that just won't quit. Something went very right in their construction and they just keep on functioning at a nearly perfect level way beyond a reasonable life span.
I've known a few of those in this parish. Bru Steward walked 5 km every day until a month before his death at age 93. At 92 he gladly took part in the kids' Good Friday drama; he made a Pilate of huge dignity. I always included him in the kids' time at the beginning of the service - it was a time for the child in us all, I said, and his child was alive and well. He died with dignity, surrounded by love.
We have one of those now, too: Peter, aged 83, who runs the badminton club. His mind is clearer than most younger people's. He joined our church because I took a public - very public - stand against the provincial government's attempts to close long-term care beds, and he is so busy with his political activity that he can't fit anything else into his schedule. We love him.
I started thinking about these people when I stumbled upon this site: http://bethe.cornell.edu/. Hans Bethe was another of those non-lemons. What a magnificent human, being able to explain his life's work so clearly at an age when the rest of us, if we survive, are content to be turnips.
I'm trying to think of what we can call these non-lemons. What's the opposite of lemon? Maybe pomegranate - it's a symbol of life and fertility, after all, with all its seeds. May we meet many of these human pomegranates in our lifetimes!
Friday, May 06, 2005
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Small-town fire
Tuesday (yesterday) morning Mary Underhill called - she's our neighbour behind and to the south of us. She said, "Look out your window." This is what we saw from our deck:
By the time I was showered and dressed and heading down the street the town was alive. I met my Pentacostal and Presbyterian colleagues at the Presbyterian church. They decided to head off to Dairy Queen to get coffee for the firefighters. I went around the corner to the street full of firefighting equipment - trucks from Canyon/Lister and Wynndel as well as Creston. Down at the end of the block the Royalcrest Apartments were burning - at least, the top floor was. Next door was Swan Valley Lodge with its 50 or so elderly residents, most with real difficulty getting around. And Royalcrest's inhabitants are mostly seniors, too.
Swan Valley Lodge is next door, on our side of the fire. Almost 50 elderly people had to be evacuated from there.
I checked at Swan Valley to see if there was anything they needed me to do. They said most of the residents had already been evacuated to the other long-term care facility, the hospital or the town's recreation centre. I went to the rec centre to see if anyone needed a hug. The Emergency Services machinery was already humming. They were finding out who lived in Royalcrest, if they were in town or away, and were checking them off as they turned up. The bylaw control officer found one of them wandering around the street looking dazed and brought him in. Within an hour everyone was accounted for. The Swan Valley residents who didn't need much care started arriving by handi-van and got checked in, too. At first they were just warehoused in the main room, which was cold and drafty and noisy and dark.
Later someone found a smaller, warmer, cheerful and sunny room to put them. They were enjoying themselves greatly for the most part. Every couple of minutes another volunteer would show up and ask them if they wanted coffee or tea or a donut, and all their old neighbours and friends were turning up to check on them.
Most impressive: the Emergency Services people were equipped to help people replace their medications, glasses, clothes, whatever, and were tracking down places for them to stay. They'd even brought in someone from the insurance agency to help people get their claims started.
This was the first time the town's emergency response plan had been tested. The only thing that had been forgotten: commodes and lifting equipment for the elderly ones who couldn't use regular washrooms. And after lunch the elderly needed to lie down for naps - the motels and hotels produced rafts of cots for them to use.
Not bad for a little place.
By the time I was showered and dressed and heading down the street the town was alive. I met my Pentacostal and Presbyterian colleagues at the Presbyterian church. They decided to head off to Dairy Queen to get coffee for the firefighters. I went around the corner to the street full of firefighting equipment - trucks from Canyon/Lister and Wynndel as well as Creston. Down at the end of the block the Royalcrest Apartments were burning - at least, the top floor was. Next door was Swan Valley Lodge with its 50 or so elderly residents, most with real difficulty getting around. And Royalcrest's inhabitants are mostly seniors, too.
Swan Valley Lodge is next door, on our side of the fire. Almost 50 elderly people had to be evacuated from there.
I checked at Swan Valley to see if there was anything they needed me to do. They said most of the residents had already been evacuated to the other long-term care facility, the hospital or the town's recreation centre. I went to the rec centre to see if anyone needed a hug. The Emergency Services machinery was already humming. They were finding out who lived in Royalcrest, if they were in town or away, and were checking them off as they turned up. The bylaw control officer found one of them wandering around the street looking dazed and brought him in. Within an hour everyone was accounted for. The Swan Valley residents who didn't need much care started arriving by handi-van and got checked in, too. At first they were just warehoused in the main room, which was cold and drafty and noisy and dark.
Later someone found a smaller, warmer, cheerful and sunny room to put them. They were enjoying themselves greatly for the most part. Every couple of minutes another volunteer would show up and ask them if they wanted coffee or tea or a donut, and all their old neighbours and friends were turning up to check on them.
Most impressive: the Emergency Services people were equipped to help people replace their medications, glasses, clothes, whatever, and were tracking down places for them to stay. They'd even brought in someone from the insurance agency to help people get their claims started.
This was the first time the town's emergency response plan had been tested. The only thing that had been forgotten: commodes and lifting equipment for the elderly ones who couldn't use regular washrooms. And after lunch the elderly needed to lie down for naps - the motels and hotels produced rafts of cots for them to use.
Not bad for a little place.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Who needs bazaars?
The ladies of Christ Church, Creston ran out of steam this year. They have "always" held their fall tea and sale on the Saturday closest to Remembrance Day. This is the kick-off to the church bazaar season. The Presbyterians have theirs the next Saturday, then the United Church, then the Roman Catholics. Some other churches work theirs in somehow, but these are the big ones.
Last year the ladies worked all fall to make little things for the sale. Cloth gift bags. Christmas tree ornaments. Sachets. Little doo-dads and trinkets. And they put on their support hose and worked all Saturday morning making sandwiches and squares, and all Saturday afternoon serving at the tea.
This year the prime mover of last year's craft efforts was ill, and so was the head of the ladies' guild. And suddenly it was mid-October and they hadn't even begun to think about the bazaar.
And they were tired and depressed. Attendance has been poor at church recently, and they're feeling a little down because I told them we're moving next June. So they had no energy to spend on a bazaar.
"I know - we need a party" said one of them at the October meeting. "Let's have a pot-luck supper instead."
"When we were in Kimberley saying goodbye to the Archbishop they were having a silent auction," said Myrna. "Let's do that to earn some money."
So they beat the bushes for treasures to auction off and phoned everyone to let them know about the pot-luck. It seemed to work.
We had about 45 people at supper tonight, quite a few of them not among our regulars. We had a feast of a meal - amazingly good stuff. Perogies, Kenyan rice, Mexican rice, baked beans, baked turkey with stuffing, salads, desserts - too much, as usual. When people came in they were given half a Christmas card and were told to find the person with the other half. This was the person they were to sit with during supper. That worked very well, with good mixing of people who don't normally hang out together.
After we ate Dempsey McKenna played her violin, and a few people told terrible jokes, and we sang some good old hymns. We handed out half the items that had been bid on, then sang some more, then handed out the rest, then sang some more, then went home - slowly, with lots of standing around and gossiping. It was a good time.
We probably earned about $600, which is less than the bazaar usually makes, but more than it would have made this year. And, more important, we had a good time together. It was worth doing.
Last year the ladies worked all fall to make little things for the sale. Cloth gift bags. Christmas tree ornaments. Sachets. Little doo-dads and trinkets. And they put on their support hose and worked all Saturday morning making sandwiches and squares, and all Saturday afternoon serving at the tea.
This year the prime mover of last year's craft efforts was ill, and so was the head of the ladies' guild. And suddenly it was mid-October and they hadn't even begun to think about the bazaar.
And they were tired and depressed. Attendance has been poor at church recently, and they're feeling a little down because I told them we're moving next June. So they had no energy to spend on a bazaar.
"I know - we need a party" said one of them at the October meeting. "Let's have a pot-luck supper instead."
"When we were in Kimberley saying goodbye to the Archbishop they were having a silent auction," said Myrna. "Let's do that to earn some money."
So they beat the bushes for treasures to auction off and phoned everyone to let them know about the pot-luck. It seemed to work.
We had about 45 people at supper tonight, quite a few of them not among our regulars. We had a feast of a meal - amazingly good stuff. Perogies, Kenyan rice, Mexican rice, baked beans, baked turkey with stuffing, salads, desserts - too much, as usual. When people came in they were given half a Christmas card and were told to find the person with the other half. This was the person they were to sit with during supper. That worked very well, with good mixing of people who don't normally hang out together.
After we ate Dempsey McKenna played her violin, and a few people told terrible jokes, and we sang some good old hymns. We handed out half the items that had been bid on, then sang some more, then handed out the rest, then sang some more, then went home - slowly, with lots of standing around and gossiping. It was a good time.
We probably earned about $600, which is less than the bazaar usually makes, but more than it would have made this year. And, more important, we had a good time together. It was worth doing.
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