- Winter in the mountains of Pennsylvania are an endurance
test. If you survive life there you're ready for anything. On one particular
day, the wind chill factor was 60 degrees below zero. It hurt just to think.
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- It was the Christmas season and I was working in an institution
hidden far from "proper society" in mountainous terrain. It was
early evening and already the weather was blizzard conditions. As I looked
out the antiquated windows watching the drifts pile higher, I wondered
how I would manage the twenty mile drive home over twisting roads? I felt
pleased with myself that the windows at least had drapes on them now. For
months, I had inquired as to why the bleak, cold environment, couldn't
be made a little more habitable; with the first thing being drapes to cut
down on the wind whipping through the hundred year old windows?
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- Naturally being a state run place why would I get an
sensible answer? Then one day I heard that across the grounds (this place
was like a small town), there was going to be an auction held for the public.
All the things collected over the years would be almost given away. The
place was filled with ironbeds-benches etc. Someone told me of the piles
of draperies. That surprised me, since I had assumed there never had been
any. I went to the institution library where my best friend worked and
sure enough old photos showed draped windows. Aha!
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- You would have to work in a place like this to realize
that a simple request would never get you the drapes. It's the old sing-song
pass the buck. Nobody had the authority, position, or interest. No one
would risk giving me a simple answer: "Sure Judy anything you want".
I contrived a plan for a weekend night (no big bosses on hand) to go shopping
at the warehouse before the auction. With only two people I could trust,
we made our way to the cavernous building, and found a window partially
opened. In we went with flashlights. The place was like some spooky Frankenstein
movie with sheets and cobwebs and ancient wooden wheelchairs. You can imagine
stumbling around in a place like this in the dead of night. Finally,through
hit and miss, we found them stacked on tables in the back.
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- The way I figured- you couldn't call it stealing. It
was kind of like moving stuff around in your house. I was just moving institution
property from one building to another. Not being greedy, I took just the
number of pairs I would need, for the eight windows in the area where I
worked. Next day I brought in rods I bought; hammer-nails, and ta dah,
the windows were soon covered in pale yellow drapes with a muted blue flower
design. When the supervisor made his rounds a few days later, he merely
remarked how nice the windows looked. I replied, "Yes, don't they,
and the drapes fit perfectly". Tip: Never ask permission if you want
to do something not quite Kosher. Just do it. If you screw up; just say
you didn't know, you're sorry, it was a mistake, or cry (last resort).
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- Same thing with the walls. What a horror. You knew someone
who cared nothing for people trapped in an institution their entire lives
would choose mud brown and bile green for the walls! So, I again went about
it the proper way, and asked if I could paint some murals on the walls
on my days off. "NO" was the reply. Now see, there's no sense
arguing with someone who has no artistic bent. You're wasting your time.
I knew the "No" was given in ignorance. Once it was painted
it would be a different story. What was the worst that could happen? I
could get fired or have to repaint with mud brown. Another weekend night,
and there I was, with my boxes of paints and brushes, bringing the ocean
to the mountains. Over the huge echoing fireplace, I painted a fishing
village with boats-docks and pilings. In the hallway, on one big empty
ugly wall, I painted a lake scene, with cartoon like characters of starfish,
octopus, dancing shrimp and laughing fish. All of it finished before Monday
morning rolled around.
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- And then something magical happened. The supervisor called
some of the administrators over from the main building, and instead of
me getting fired they loved it. Soon there was competition throughout the
whole building as to which staff could decorate their areas the best with
a prize being offered. What a difference some drapes, murals, pictures
and modular furniture (instead of benches) made
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- For Christmas; tinsel was hung, wreaths at the windows
and trees brought in and trimmed. Frankly, the atmosphere had the staff
a lot more creative and pleasant. It helped them as much as the residents.
Who wants to work in a place that resembles a moss covered mausoleum or
septic tank? It was Christmas and the residents were excited, though many
didn't know why? Just that it wasn't the same old dreary routine.There
was music, lots of lights and presents of socks, new clothing, and some
candy canes. The state was pretty stingy and unimaginative.
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- The snow fell in white out conditions. Around seven o'clock
(already dark out), the supervisor gathered staff and some of the more
able (not in wheelchairs or coffin boxes) men in the dining hall, and announced
that a big Christmas show; complete with choirs, Santa, and lots of singing
would take place across the grounds in the auditorium. He asked for volunteers
to escort a dozen residents through the snow for the two hour presentation.
I stood in the back, thinking all would raise their hands, and them having
seniority would surely be picked. Nobody moved. It then dawned on me that
nobody wanted to make the effort of dressing a dozen residents, walk them
through the blizzard, and then keep track of them once at the auditorium,
having to take them to the bathroom etc. Note: Coffin boxes is a description
I made up. They looked like pine coffins and were for residents severly
twisted and crippled to lay in. This way they could be wheeled from place
to place because they couldn't sit.
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- Just as the supervisor was about to shrug his shoulders
and announce, that none from our building would attend the party, I raised
my hand and said, "I'll do it." For the next hour it was trying
to find socks for the men's hands (they had no gloves), warm jackets and
hats, to make the long trek. Busy getting everyone ready, I felt a tug
at my jeans and turned to see Mikie. Mikie, was a 76year old, mute hunchback-
diagnosed some months before, as being filled with cancer. In an institution,
there are no heroic measures taken or even needed medications for pain.
He wanted to go. He didn't need to speak, I could see the pleading in his
eyes. I gave it some thought, him being so fragile and sick, and decided
what the heck he's going.
-
- Off we went, two by two through the deep snow, the wind
blowing icy snow over our chapped faces. I led the way holding Mikie's
hand. I started to sing some Christmas carols and the residents who knew
a few words joined in. The others made up the words, while Mikie bobbed
his head up and down. What a sight we must have made; the lame-the halt-the
twisted and me
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- The program was nice as programs like that go. The residents
(with mental ages from toddler to five or six) were thrilled with Santa.
They all had to touch his beard as he gave each a candy cane. I sat on
his lap which got them laughing. Finally, the show was over, and on went
the sock gloves-hats and coats. It was then that I decided that I would
take my group down the long darkened corridor to a huge manager scene set
up in the main lobby of the administration building. They'd never seen
a manager.
-
- It was built of rough pine, filled with straw, and life
like statues, and cherub angels lighting the baby Jesus from above. They
all stood there in hushed silence, and I told them, much like you would
tell your children, the story of the babe in the manager and how this
was His birthday. We then all sang Happy Birthday. As we turned to leave,
Mikie lingered behind. As I went to get him, I saw him reaching into his
jacket pocket. Mikie, had a habit of collecting cigarette butts that employees
put out in ashtrays or threw outside. He'd smoke what remained. He took
the handful collected in his pocket and laid it in the manager at the babes
feet.
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- Later that night, after everyone was bathed, I found
an extra blanket for Mikie. He slept on the sun porch, which was especially
cold (no heat) along with several other residents, as the dormitory wasn't
large enough. I sat on the edge of his bed and said, "Mikie honey,
you know you're very sick- and pretty soon you'll be able to see the baby
Jesus that you gave a present to tonight. Mikie, do me a favor- when you
see Him, tell Him I said hi, ok." Mikie looked up and said "Yep".
The only word I ever heard him utter.
-
-
- I left for home. my shift ended at 11:30pm. Mikie died
at 4:00am. Every time I think of all the money spent on lavish gifts and
junk for Christmas-I never fail to think of Michael and The Gift.
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