Hands come together in warm appreciation as the warbling sound of Rosalie Huntington's yodeling stirs up wistful memories of another era for Pleasant View Nursing Home residents. As the bellows of her accordion fold and unfold, her fingers flit among the keys on the left and press firmly down on the metal reeds on the right.
Huntington shares vocals with partner, Ron Kittleson, who plays along on his guitar. Meanwhile, 87-year old Jerry Hastings, a well-known musician among area senior citizen groups, strums a banjo in perfect harmony with the other two.
The first thing one notices about the audience is that all are wheelchair bound. The next most evident characteristic is the cheerful response to the old-time music being played before a grateful audience.
As the lyrics of "Come to the Mountain" fill the room, a woman with a somewhat vacant look in her eyes suddenly perks up, her hands come together softly in time to the music and a gentle smile crosses her face. Her one remaining leg rests comfortably on a board extending from her wheelchair, the other limb having succumbed to assault from some past disease or accident.
As the performance continues, she maneuvers her chair ever closer to the makeshift bandstand. Rosalie and Ron seem unfazed by the intrusion, instead engaging in friendly conversation between songs with her and the rest of the crowd.
The residents all seem to know one another as they respond to both the entertainers and each other. While some appear unaware of their surroundings, most beam with quiet bliss over the frivolities.
Jerry Hastings plays for free when invited to entertain. He views Pleasant View as a second home after his wife, Jackie, spent the final two years of her life there.
"I went every day to help feed her lunch," he said.
"I can't say enough about how nice these people were to her. They were so good about wheeling her to the window every day to watch for me to come."
Despite suffering from the Alzheimer's that often left her fearful and anxious, she always recognized her husband. "She knew me right up to the last day," Jerry said softly.
Pleasant View makes up a community, in many ways similar to the neighborhoods where the rest of us dwell. Residents often know each other as former friends and neighbors in the towns and villages of Green County.
My mother grew up on various farms in the area, going to school in one-room schoolhouses with names like Smiley, Kelly and Fairview. The names often derived from families who may have lived nearby and donated small parcels of land upon which the look-alike schoolhouses were built.
Mom married and joined the legions of other rural citizens who chose to remain on the land for their livelihood. "It was nothing but a pile of rocks," she says of the small farm located off Middle Juda Road southeast of Monroe where she and my father first settled. The year was 1933, when the Depression threatened to ruin agriculture. Renters on halves or forty-sixty were particularly hard hit.
The bonds forged among those who experienced that period in our history have remained strong. Some of the folks from that era now claim Pleasant View as their home.
While some will reside at Pleasant View for several years, others stay only briefly as they recover from various surgical procedures or suffer from terminal illnesses.
Some residents may have lost their physical capabilities to some extent, while their minds remain attentive. Others retain some level of physical functioning but mental faculties have slipped into disarray.
My mother has resided at Pleasant View for several years. At 92, she still takes part in the many activities the facility offers and can be seen frequently wheeling around the home, visiting with residents who may be, as she says, "worse off than me."
"Grandma Lu," many of the residents call her, as do the certified nursing assistants and other staff who visit her room daily to deliver medications, help her bathe or just give her a hug. When not in physical therapy, baking cookies or playing bingo, she keeps busy by whirling her crochet hook in quick strokes along the edge of a colorful doily, one of dozens she has given to friends and relatives or donated to various causes.
Jerry used to bring his wife down to see Mom from time to time. Mom would hold out her hand saying, "Come and talk to Grandma Lu." Like Jerry, Mom's spouse died at Pleasant View.
Despite her physical limitations and a variety of nagging, age-related ailments, she is generally content with her lot in life, expressing often her appreciation for the excellent care she receives from the Pleasant View staff. "They are so good to me," she says. Her only complaint: "I just can't get everything done that I want to."
Not only does the quality of care serve as a blessing to each resident, but also to the families who can rest easy, knowing their loved ones are well cared for in the waning years of their lives.
Grandma Lu(ella) McNeill will celebrate her 93rd birthday on Oct. 5.
- Lee Fahrney is the Times outdoors writer. His regular Thursday column will run later in the week. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208.
Huntington shares vocals with partner, Ron Kittleson, who plays along on his guitar. Meanwhile, 87-year old Jerry Hastings, a well-known musician among area senior citizen groups, strums a banjo in perfect harmony with the other two.
The first thing one notices about the audience is that all are wheelchair bound. The next most evident characteristic is the cheerful response to the old-time music being played before a grateful audience.
As the lyrics of "Come to the Mountain" fill the room, a woman with a somewhat vacant look in her eyes suddenly perks up, her hands come together softly in time to the music and a gentle smile crosses her face. Her one remaining leg rests comfortably on a board extending from her wheelchair, the other limb having succumbed to assault from some past disease or accident.
As the performance continues, she maneuvers her chair ever closer to the makeshift bandstand. Rosalie and Ron seem unfazed by the intrusion, instead engaging in friendly conversation between songs with her and the rest of the crowd.
The residents all seem to know one another as they respond to both the entertainers and each other. While some appear unaware of their surroundings, most beam with quiet bliss over the frivolities.
Jerry Hastings plays for free when invited to entertain. He views Pleasant View as a second home after his wife, Jackie, spent the final two years of her life there.
"I went every day to help feed her lunch," he said.
"I can't say enough about how nice these people were to her. They were so good about wheeling her to the window every day to watch for me to come."
Despite suffering from the Alzheimer's that often left her fearful and anxious, she always recognized her husband. "She knew me right up to the last day," Jerry said softly.
Pleasant View makes up a community, in many ways similar to the neighborhoods where the rest of us dwell. Residents often know each other as former friends and neighbors in the towns and villages of Green County.
My mother grew up on various farms in the area, going to school in one-room schoolhouses with names like Smiley, Kelly and Fairview. The names often derived from families who may have lived nearby and donated small parcels of land upon which the look-alike schoolhouses were built.
Mom married and joined the legions of other rural citizens who chose to remain on the land for their livelihood. "It was nothing but a pile of rocks," she says of the small farm located off Middle Juda Road southeast of Monroe where she and my father first settled. The year was 1933, when the Depression threatened to ruin agriculture. Renters on halves or forty-sixty were particularly hard hit.
The bonds forged among those who experienced that period in our history have remained strong. Some of the folks from that era now claim Pleasant View as their home.
While some will reside at Pleasant View for several years, others stay only briefly as they recover from various surgical procedures or suffer from terminal illnesses.
Some residents may have lost their physical capabilities to some extent, while their minds remain attentive. Others retain some level of physical functioning but mental faculties have slipped into disarray.
My mother has resided at Pleasant View for several years. At 92, she still takes part in the many activities the facility offers and can be seen frequently wheeling around the home, visiting with residents who may be, as she says, "worse off than me."
"Grandma Lu," many of the residents call her, as do the certified nursing assistants and other staff who visit her room daily to deliver medications, help her bathe or just give her a hug. When not in physical therapy, baking cookies or playing bingo, she keeps busy by whirling her crochet hook in quick strokes along the edge of a colorful doily, one of dozens she has given to friends and relatives or donated to various causes.
Jerry used to bring his wife down to see Mom from time to time. Mom would hold out her hand saying, "Come and talk to Grandma Lu." Like Jerry, Mom's spouse died at Pleasant View.
Despite her physical limitations and a variety of nagging, age-related ailments, she is generally content with her lot in life, expressing often her appreciation for the excellent care she receives from the Pleasant View staff. "They are so good to me," she says. Her only complaint: "I just can't get everything done that I want to."
Not only does the quality of care serve as a blessing to each resident, but also to the families who can rest easy, knowing their loved ones are well cared for in the waning years of their lives.
Grandma Lu(ella) McNeill will celebrate her 93rd birthday on Oct. 5.
- Lee Fahrney is the Times outdoors writer. His regular Thursday column will run later in the week. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208.
