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December 15, 2004
My Pen Pals
"Today we'll be writing letters to people in the county retirement facilty. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
I was in middle school. Our entire class period was devoted to writing letters to some old people we had never met. We were each given a name. There were Richards Merideths Bettys. I had a Clancy. We were supposed to become pen pals of sorts. Once a month or so we'd send a shipment of letters to the home and once a month or so we'd get one back.
The shipment came back there was no letter for me. How could this be? I couldn't have offended Clancy, we all pretty much wrote the same thing, only changing names. What were we supposed to write to some old people anyway? It made no sense not to copy.
"Mrs Moon. I didn't get anything back from Clancy."
"Oh. That's right. I'm sorry, Brian, but Clancy passed away."
"Oh. Ok."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's Ok. I never met him."
"I have someone else for you to write to: Harold."
Harold died on me too.
During the third writing session when we were supposed to make cards I made on for Beulah. I was a t a loss for what to write having obviously killed off two old fogies with the stroke of my pen. I had a feeling my crayon card wouldn't be as dangerous, but I decided to ask the teacher.
"These people keep dying on me. I must be writing the wrong things, what should I write?"
She gave a list of things old farts like to hear about, none of which seemed appropriate for a card. None except "Bible quotes. They love bible quotes."
So I went over to a bible and opened to a random page. I didn't know how to quote the bible, but I tried. I read through the page I had opened the book to and looked for something fitting. When I found something I thought fit with the upcoming Easter holiday I wrote it inside the card:
When Jesus had received the vinegar, he said, "It is finished"; and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
(John 19:30)
These cards, however weren't just going to be sent to the old fogies, they were to be given to them in a face to face meeting. Our teacher and the staff at the home thought it would be a great idea to have us meet in person after having developed out deep, meaningful relationships through cards and letters. I suppose others could have become attached to their old people, but since mine kept dying on my I had no connection. (Unless you consider cause of death.)
When we arrived at the nursing home I looked for Beulah, but I couldn't find anyone with "Beulah" on her nametag. "Maybe she died just knowing that I was coming." I thought. "Why do they keep dying on me?" I asked my teacher if she knew who Beulah was, she asked the staff. A few minutes later an little old woman propped up by a walker came into the room. "Beulah's here. Beulah's here." she said.
I went over to her and told her that I was her new pen pal. Clancy and Harold had died, giving me the chance to become her pen pal. "I have a card for you."
She made some sort of motion that looked like refusal.
"I made this card for you."
She grabbed it out of my hand and without reading it turned and walked out the door much faster than I expected someone in a walker could go.
But really what do you expect someone to do when the harbinger of death gives them a card?
She had some preparing to do.
Posted by calculatoronfire at December 15, 2004 02:09 PM