It's hard to just stop doing what you loved for thirty years. So even though I wasn't a Social Worker at a nursing home any longer I still tried to keep busy doing what I knew how to do best.
I developed a seminar on visiting loved ones in a nursing home setting. I spoke to a small gathering at the local library. Sometimes visiting a nursing home can be an unpleasant experience. My talk was how to get the most out of visits. Almost everyday my residents would say, "I wish more people would come and see me." I understood the fear, the uncertainty of what to say and react to someone suffering form Dementia. It wasn't easy. I related better to families after Mom was a resident.
So I hoped to make things easier. I did an oral presentation and showed the outstanding short film "Peege." It was a real tear-jerker.
I hoped to do more of those presentations down the room. Anything to help.
I also went back to West Chester University. My friend Rick was a professor there and taught Social Work classes. I met him way back in my Manor days when he came in weekly to help us do individual and group counseling. I always admired his kindness and gentle approach.
He really wanted me to visit because he was retiring from teaching after the spring semester. He was heading to Florida with his wife to live the much deserved good life.
I touched base with Rick one April and he asked me to visit one of his Social Work classes. So we worked out a good date and time and Holly and I headed down Route 202 to the campus.
This was my first time back at Wets Chester U. since 1988. The campus sure had changed and the memories flooded back as soon as we parked. Students hustling everywhere, many wearing backpacks, still many more checking their cell phones. The crowded chaos had not changed but we didn't have cell phones back in 1988.
Waiting to get into class it looked like thirty years ago: students sitting on the floor in the halls, studying, listening to music on headphones, talking and texting. I kind of wished I could return to those carefree days when Lori and I were at WCU. So much had happened since then.
Rick was his usual cheerful self as he greeted us. He had an infectious smile, a gray thick mustache and wire rimmed glasses. As always he was dressed impeccably. Didn't look like he had aged a day since the last time I saw him. Interestingly, he was a former body builder who ended up getting his doctorate in Social Work. Go figure.
I could see why the residents loved him so much back in the good old days. He knew that, no matter what, things would be alright. He made you feel that just by spending time with him.
Rick paid me the ultomate compliment by calling me "a Social Worker's Social Worker." I wasn;t sure that was true, but coming from a truly great Social Worker like Rick was a real honor.
For the next hour or so we sat in a circle and answered questions from the twenty or so young students. Most were female, and most were seniors, a group due to graduate soon and enter the challenging world of Social Work.
I thought about how cool it would've been to have a seasoned, experienced Social Worker come to talk to us back then. Maybe I wouldn't have made so many mistakes but I suppose everyone needs to learn the ropes on their own to really appreciate the successes.
We talked Social Work, but I also fielded questions about O.I. and what it was like to get around in a wheelchair. To me, the key points to always remember about Social Work were simple: Always keep a sense of humor; Listening is far more important than giving advice; Never forget about feelings. Use empathy often. You'll find your niche in the field, as I had. Don't give up and don't allow yourself to get burned out. Be honest, be real and be nice to others.
I had mentioned that we had a bit of a challenge getting into the building because of the rocky, gravel parking lot and path leading to the sidewalk and into the building. A few students agreed and suggested they contact someone on campus to make the campus more accessible to wheelchairs, not only the parking lot outside. Awareness is the first step to change.
We had a great time with the students that afternoon. "You guys are the future," I said before leaving. "Make everyone proud,"
Another new project I started after retiring was writing a blog. I always liked writing, going back to my "Wheeling Around Phoenixville" columns in the local paper. I decided to write a similar blog, focusing on disability news, issues and awareness . If I heard about someone in the news who was achieving something extraordinary( like the actress who won a Tony award on Broadway, who happened to use a wheelchair,) , I wanted to make readers aware. New TV shows like "Speechless" were welcome additions, with a main disabled characyer. So did old movies such as "Unbreakable", the film starring Bruce Willis and Samuel T. Jackson, which featured a character with O.I. ( the first time I had ever seen the condition profiled on screen). Refreshingly, Jackson was a villian in the film, proving that not every person with a disability is a hero.
Stories about people with disabilities who do extraordinary things in life- like climbing Mount Everest or sky-diving or whatever the feat- need to be highlighted to prove that anyone can do anything if they try hard enough.
Yet sometimes everyone can't do everything. Especially me. Just because I have a disability doesn't mean I'm Superman. I still have learned to drive, something that sticks in my craw. But I also accept the fact that I'm not perfect, I make mistakes. I'm only human...like everyone else, disabled or able-bodied.
My blog also features sports, music, movies and things I find interesting in life. I don't know if anyone reads my daily blog. It doesn't matter. Writing is good for the soul.
Holly and I live together now. She sold her farm after her beautiful horses passed away. When her beloved dog Zip also died, I convinced her to fill that emptiness in her heart by getting a puppy. She found ( on the Internet again) the perfect dog- a white Morkie named Katie.
Katie is a ball of energy. She's a lot of fun and keeps Bud on his toes. Keeps him young, too.
Thank God Holly has no reoccurance of her tumor. Our past trials and tribulations have made us appreciate life even more now. We have made a good life together.
Mom's garden is full of life again. Along with flowers we put in a beautiful pond and rock garden. Birds flock from everywhere to take a bath in the pond. Mom would love the St. Francis statue that welcomes the birds. I think she would be proud of her garden now.
I stay active by pushing my chair in the neighborhood when I am able .Remaining sedentary, both physically and mentally, is the worse thing I can do. They are watching my heart issue and my Barrett's Disease. Who knows what will happen with both down the road. I try not to worry about it. I still take things one day at a time, like always.
My O.I. is always with me. But I'm lucky. Lucky I don't break as much, lucky to be alive, and lucky I have found someone who truly loves me. I am surrounded by people who care about me. Who can ask for more?
I've thought about returning to a nursing home again, this time to volunteer. My life would come full-circle if that happens. I miss helping people in need.
Sports continues to be a big part of my life. When able, I try to attend a few Phillies and Eagles games every season. It still gives me something to look forward to. When a rare championship does occur, like the Eagles Super Bowl victory, it brings us all together in the community. Then I'm not a fan with a disability who sits the the accessible seating area- I'm just a fan.
Speaking of which, life is easier now when it comes to accessibility. Not every place I go is totally accessible. I still encounter restaurants, shops and public buildings that are not accessible. Sidewalks are still a major issue. But things are better because awareness is high. It's almost as though there is shame now if areas are not accessible to everyone.
My former dentist went to London once. The next time I saw him he remarked that he was thinking of me while he was in England." Why on earth were you thinking of me?" I wondered. " Because," he answered," London (as in many parts of Europe), is not very accessible to wheelchairs. You would have a hard time getting around."
My hope is that the rest of the world catches up to the States when it comes to Disability Rights.
I"m proud that my hometown of Phoenixville recently added an all-access playground to our park. Now kids in wheelchairs can swing and play like able-bodied children.
Music continues to be big part of life. My musical tastes have broadened since I met Holly .Ccountry music is interesting and lyrically similar to the music I grew up with. One can actually understand the words. Artists like The Beatles, Richard Marx and oldies bring me joy, not the crap you hear on the radio today. If I sound like an old guy, well, I guess I am.
I don't care what critics or haters say,.Barry Manilow is still great. His music still touches me, especially his early stuff. He's a musical genius in my opinion. Of course, I may be a little biased.
I haven't seen him in concert in quite some time, but I will always fondly remember the shows, the music and the friends I made because of him so long ago.
It was a strange twist of fate when we met Western singer/songwriter Michael Martin Murphey. Probably his most famous song is 'Wildfire," an iconic song from the 70's about a ghost horse. We were last in the Meet and Greet line but I saw him glancing over at me as he was signing and taking pictures with fans. When it was our turn, he came over, kneeling down beside my chair."Mind if I ask you why you're in the wheelchair?" he said politely.
I told him I have brittle bones and he nodded. "I knew it," he said. "I have a granddaughter with brittle bones."
Turns out she is a college student, doing well but had been through many of the same things I endured over the years. In fact, Murphey has an O.I. foundation that helps people with the condition obtain medical equipment, wheelchairs and other items they need in their lives. Small world!
Finally, that brings me back to my childhood idol. I still listen to his music on occasion. I remain eternally grateful to him for being nice to a sick little kid and the joy his music gave me.
I heard Bobby Rydell wrote a book. The title was "Teen Idol on The Rocks." It was very well done. I felt like I really did ride along on his early musical journey. I highly recommend it.
I read that Bobby was doing a book tour and he was coming to a bookstore in Broomall, Pa. for a signing in late November. I asked Holly if she wanted to go, so off we went.
There was a small line inside the front of the store when we arrived. There were roughly three people ahead of me, all holding copies of Bobby's book , Rydell vinyl record albums, or photos of the singer. I had my own book and an extra item with me.
A younger lady came into the store at the back of the line. She hesitated while checking out the line, mumbling something about "Who is the guy? I don't know this guy.."
I looked at her and shook my head. He's only a rock n' roll icon. Damn millennial.
When it was my turn to approach the table I got my first good look at my childhood idol. It was the first time I was face-to-face with Bobby Rydell in over 55 years.
"Hi," he said, reaching across the small table to shake hands. "How are you? What's your name?"
"Hi, Bobby. I'm Greg."
"Nice to meet you, Greg," He replied, taking my book and opening the front cover to sign. "Is that with one G or two at the end?"
"One, " I said, "And we've met before."
"Really?" he said, looking up from the book as I produced the black and white photo of Bobby and I in his dressing room in Atlantic City in 1960. We were both grinning from ear-to-ear, me sitting on his lap,wearing that same stupid butterscotch checked jacket and bow tie I wore on special occasions when I was a kid.
"I was only four-and-a-half then," I said. He was only 19.
He stared at the picture, mesmerized for a moment. "How old are you now, Greg?"
"I just turned sixty last week."
"My God, Greg!" he gasped, still staring.
"You wote me this letter after we met."
Bobby quickly scanned the handwritten letterthat I now kept in a clear plastic sleeve.The letter basically said how nice it was to meet, how sharp I looked in that jacket, and how Bobby had just recently met his own idol. "Perhaps you heard of him," the letter read. " Frank Sinatra."
"That's my writing all right," he said, partly to himself.
The people behind me seemed fascinated by the reunion but also wanted their moment to have their book signed, so he quickly signed my copy and took a new photo with me, taken by Holly.
He handed the book back to me, saying" Nice to see you again, Greg. It's been a great life."
I could see him remembering back to the good old days when we were both kids.The days of Bandstand, the Steel Pier and youth. We had both come so far.
Back in the car I read his inscription:
To Greg, My lifelong friend. Best Wishes Always, Bobby Rydell.
I closed the book and smiled.
The End.
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