It Couldn't Hurt... Much!

Hello kindeleh.  Come, plotz (Yiddish for cop a squat or sit down), I tell you a story.  You know how aldacoctas (Yiddish for, forgive me kindeleh, old farts) love to tell stories.  And this isn't one of those bedtime, fairtaile, fantasy, broomstick riding, hero worshipping, damsel in distress but can kick your butt kind of stories.  This is, as my grandson would say, for reals.  Personally, I don't understand that but he seems to think... never mind; your eyes are glazing over.

A bunch of us aldacoctas wanted to go to a home for the aged but since we were smart enough to give up our licenses before we caused accidents we needed a couple of drivers.  Quite a few people stepped up from the Temple once a few of us let it leak that we're including lunch.  Amazing what happens when someone smells a free meal. 

Anyway, we head to the home for the aged and unbenownsed to us, there are a few little ones in the cars.  Not many mind you, but a few and they range in age from about 7 or so up to 15.  You know the 15 year old didn't want to be there and lucky him, he was in the car with your Yenta!  First question I asked the kid was rather important, "Don't you think old people smell like moth balls?"  We were pals after that!

The kindeleh actually had a good time, and I think the forgotten people did as well.  We didn't do anything special.  We talked.  We went to the front desk, asked if they had anyone that needed company for a bit, and we all had a good time.  So when we left, as promised, we went to lunch.  We were quite a crowd and the kindeleh weren't looking very happy as the mommies were talking among themselves, and your Yenta doesn't like to see this.  So we were seated and I made sure I sat among the kindeleh.

At first they were very careful around me, as they didn't know what to make of this old lady among them, and then the 15 year spoke up -- "so why do old people smell like moth balls?"  Dead silence.  My answer?  "We keep them in our pockets so you don't smell us rotting." 

The adults didn't like that but the kids laughed.  And then they told me what they did with their people at the home and what they learned just by talking with them ... and how they want to go back and visit again.  It was music in mine heart. 

One little girl, one precious little girl, crawled up on your Yenta's knee, stood there for a moment and gave a kiss on my cheek and asked me to be Bubbie (Yiddish for Grandmother).  It seems both her Bubbies were deceased and she had taken a liking to me, as I did to her.  She even asked me for my email!  I gave it to her mother of course.  I gave it to all the mothers along with this website, so they can enjoy what I write here as well as learn other 'grate' things.

So, you're wondering what the point is?  Going along with Mardy's idea of what occupational therapy is, how you occupy your time --  I can't think of anything better to occupy your time with than sharing it with other people.  I don't mean friends.  Put yourself out, stressful though it might seem, the reward is spontanious and almost miraculous healing of mind, body and yes, even your soul.  All the Rabbi's and Priests, Preachers, Deacons, etc, talk about this kind of giving, especially at this time of year. So I say: "Try it -- It Couldn't Hurt!

Your

Yenta