No Man is an Island

As I start my third month as a resident at the retirement complex, Russellville Park, a quote from John Donne's "No man is an island" crawls into my mind from some long ago literature class. John might have been writing about my new home. He tells us that every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main and he finishes with the line"...therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."

About 600 apartments occupy the west and east units of Russellville Park and my place on the third floor of the east building features a large balcony overlooking a Portland residential neighborhood.  In my first few days here a strange feeling about the occupants of this place became apparent to me... Words are difficult to find that will define it but if you twirl together thoughtfulness, compassion, respect, helpfulness, and friendliness that will give you a clue to the vibe.

You first notice among both the men and the women a wide ranging degree of physical disrepair. Lots of walkers.  Lots of canes.  Some wheel chairs. Many eyes are brightly lit while others not so much. But everyone still appear to be serious players in the game.   Early on I joined a breakfast club that proved to be a microcosm of Russellville Park's residents except for the all male feature.

The large round table seating seven or eight regulars at the back of the dining room opened at 7:30 AM under the supervision of the Director of Operations, Lou, an ex-cop from California. Assigned seating. An outside observer would find amusement in the ordering of the table mates, starting with Lou.  The server stands by him and Lou nods his head, without speaking, and she writes on her pad.  Next, another nod of the head and she writes. And so around the table until I am the first to break the silence with my order.  In time, she will know my head nod.

If anyone at our table spotted an empty cup on a saucer he would reach over and put the cup on the table so it wouldn't rattle when our table mate with Parkinson's disease was cutting the food on his plate. Small acts of kindness. Part of what makes this rich environment of Donne's Continent main.  The common bond shared by the residents of Russellville Park might come from the awareness that each of us will eventually learn the secret of life's darkest mystery.

The ambulances that come for their guests at Russellville Park shut down their sirens well before arriving.  But sometimes in the dark of the night you might hear one far away and if it awakens you recall the words of John Donne (updated from 1623):  ...therefore never send to know for whom the siren wails, it wails for thee."