Hello in there…

She’s nearly 90, but still she’s filled with vim and vinegar. She’s got spunk to spare — no way she’s going to hang around with old people;  she’d much rather be home  sipping a martini and playing cards and smoking cigarettes while Dean Martin croons on the hi-fi.  But she’s got to be so lonely…

Three white-haired ladies look out the front lobby window and wonder if it’s as cold outside as it  seems…A receptionist barks “Turn your TV lower!”…Folks gather for meals a half-hour early because meals break the monotony of each dull day…”At least one person dies every week,” she tells us…Her face lights up when she sees you, when she sees she has visitors…I feel the surrender, the sadness, the dying…I don’t think I could face up to such loneliness…and I pray to God you never will.

As we sit and talk with her, I hear the old Paul Simon song:

And this sad but beautiful song by John Prine:


We’ve got to visit her again, sometime soon…

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