3 November 2001
Subject: Herbie
Dear Ones,
Last Saturday, I wrote about
our neighbor, Miss Marie, who resides in the local nursing home. Today,
I want to introduce to you another one of the nursing home patients. His
name is Herbie.
Herbie has spent most of his
adult life in the nursing home. We were told that before Herbie came to
live in the nursing home, he was kept in a "cage'. He is what some
folks call a "slow learner".
Herbie may not as
"sharp" as others, but he is no dummy.... he has learned to
play folks like a fiddle. He uses every trick in the book to get his way
with things around the nursing home. For example, he tells the staff
that he is not going to take a bath unless they give him some
cigarettes. You know what, Herbie gets his "smokes".
Herbie is our buddy. The
minute we arrive at the nursing home, Herbie rushes up to Leavon and
me to tell us the latest. Every day it's something different. One
day it's to tell us that he has gotten a new cap, the next, it's to
tell us that someone has called him a "bad" name.... and
that he is mad about that. He mutters, "Old so and so called me a
bad name.... that old SOB".
Many times he approaches us
with a very sad look upon his face. He hides his face with one hand
and begins to faintly cry. These are the days when Herbie just wants a
hug from Leavon or just a kind word of consolation. Leavon gives him a
hug and I tell him, "Everything is going to be alright, Herbie."
He immediately lights up like a light, smiles with that grin of his
and moves on with that little "hitch in his get-along"....
some deformity I assume he has had since birth.
Herbie is my "podner".
One day we arrived at the nursing home to find Herbie sitting on the
bench out front. He had a grin from ear to ear. I walked up to him and
asked what was going on. He reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a
shiney, new harmonica and announced to me, "I got me a new
harmonica". I asked Herbie if he could you play "that
thing". He grinned even more and answered, "Yes." I
told him if he would play a tune that I would dance a jig. Guess
what.... Herbie can play.... at least, he blew into the harmonica and
moved it from side to side in his mouth. His playing was, at least, as
good as my dancing.
After my little
"dance" and before leaving, I told Herbie that he was now my
"podner" and that the next time, and each time thereafter, I
came to the nursing home that I would dance if he would just play me a
tune on his new harmonica.
Some folks have always
thought me a bit crazy and now they see it in action. Each time I
arrive at the nursing home, Herbie greets
me with a grin, pulls out his harmonica and starts to play, and I
immediately break out into my little dance. The folks all sitting around
have a good laugh, I leave with a smile on my face and a warmness in my
heart, and Herbie and I share our
"podnership" in happiness.
May you find your own
"podner" and may you have as many happy days as I do.
May God bless!!
Don
Be Happy