not imagine. Yet still, most consider modern old age
homesfrightening,desolate,evenodiousplacestospend
thelastphaseofone’slife.Weneedanddesiresomething
more.
LONGWOODHOUSESEEMINGLYhadeverythinggoingfor
it.Thefacilitywasuptodate,withtopratingsforsafety
and care. Alice’s quarters enabled her to have the
comfortsofherold homeina safer,moremanageable
situation. The arrangements were tremendously
reassuringforherchildrenandextendedfamily.Butthey
weren’tforAlice.Shenevergotusedtobeingthereor
acceptedit.Nomatterwhatthestafforourfamilydidfor
her, she grew only more miserable.
Iaskedheraboutthis.Butshecouldn’tputherfingeron
what madeher unhappy. Themost commoncomplaint
she made is one I’ve heard often from nursing home
residents I’ve met: “It just isn’t home.” To Alice,
Longwood Housewasa merefacsimile ofhome.And
havingaplacethatgenuinelyfeelslikeyourhomecan
seem as essential to a person as water to a fish.
Afewyearsago,IreadaboutthecaseofHarryTruman,
an eighty-three-year-old man who, in March 1980,
refused to budge from his homeatthefoot of Mount
Saint Helens near Olympia, Washington, when the
volcanobegantosteamandrumble.AformerWorldWar
I pilot and Prohibition-era bootlegger, he’d owned his
lodgeonSpiritLakeformorethanhalfacentury.Five
yearsearlier,he’dbeenwidowed.Sonowitwasjusthim
and hissixteen catsonhis fifty-fouracresofproperty
beneaththemountain.Threeyearsearlier,he’dfallenoff
thelodgeroofshovelingsnowand brokenhisleg.The