Beware, all Walkers Look Alike

First of all, as soon as I return to Seattle, I’m coloring my hair again. I do not enjoy the residents saying “oh hi honey, are you new here?”

We were briefly inspected – forms shoved in a drawer without comment (I had spent hours making sure their medical forms/TB tests/etc. were done). Despite bringing enough clothing for a month, somehow my mother forgot her toothbrush – so off I went to the local drugstore. Afterwards we all met with our official personal greeter, who has been assigned to follow Mom and Dad for a week to make sure they don’t steal the silverware.

Dinnertime! At 5 pm, of course. Here is the senior networking part. Would you believe my mother hooked up with a friend from Brooklyn College, where she graduated from in 1942? Yes, the girls looked a little different but they still talk the same. And of course there’s Not-Dead-Yet Ida, the 90-year old fitness queen. Ida walks to the Y every day to work out and wears chic Yoga outfits. (My mother and Ida used to live near each other about 20 years ago. At a recent lunchtime visit here, when my mother realized Ida now lived here, she yelled across the room “Ida! I thought you were dead!” Nice.

My Dad was counting all the guys in the dining room. There were 9. Old men don’t last as long as old women. One lady told me “we used to have a table of 14 people who liked to eat together – all the male spouses passed on, so now there are just 7.” Another new friend was whispering in my mother’s ear “It’s not so good here. Come to Room 253 after dinner and I’ll tell you the dirt.” The folks here have their cliques.

We all rushed off (mostly rolled off in a sea of blue walkers) for the evening entertainment, a piano/choral concert in the lobby. The music was actually quite nice despite the occasional snoring from the attendees. My father loaded up on the free brownies and piled them up on my mother’s walker seat – he took not one, not two, but SIX brownies back to their room. He managed to lose one brownie, step on it, mash it into the hallway carpet, and keep moving. I asked if he intended to eat the brownies – no, he wanted to put them in the mini-frig just in case he gets hungry in the middle of the night. Upon inspecting their room after 3 hours of use, the bed was piled with clothing, the bathroom was full of junk – in other words, the hoarding impulse was immediate and the place looked just like their house.

I have inspected the Activity Sheet for the week. Unfortunately I will miss Zack the Portugese Water Dog and his handler, as I must leave on Monday. However, tomorrow is Classic Movie Night and that could be wonderful. I have my own private room, on a different floor from my parents, and I have the secret gate passcode to come back and forth in case I need to, oh maybe, go to the brewery late at night.