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This is another creative writing class assignment. 

The Widow Lindskold

     Sometimes greatness comes in small packages. Even one that is barely 5 feet tall, can stand mountains among men. The kind of greatness I am writing about is as simple as a human touching another human.

     The first time I saw the Widow Lindskold she sailed a tray full of food right across the dining room.

     “There, take that, you dirty rats,” she hollered

     Hordes of nurses aides and orderlies came bursting in the dining room. All stopped to watch what the Widow Lindskold would do next. A parting of bodies at the door made way, for the ever large, Ms. Valquist, Head Nurse of Wing Three.

     The Widow Lindskold lifted her eyes as Nurse Valquist was putting her hands on her hips and the showdown began. You could have cut the tension with a knife, the air reeked of an unspoken contention between these two adversaries. They circled each other like sparring partners in a boxing ring. One was 89 years old and stood barely five feet tall, and the other was a Titan of a woman in both height and girth. Both knew they had met their match and a draw was conceded and everyone returned to their duties.

     This scene was my first day as a volunteer at the Greenbank Nursing Home. I was to read to the patients, help write letters to families and be an all-around friend to the ladies on Wing Three. I was a young wife and mother who wanted to be of service to my community and felt this was a good way to be of value.

     After witnessing the theatrics of the Widow Lindskold I wanted to get to know her better. Later that afternoon I found her in the solarium and sat down beside her.

     “Not so close,” scolded the Widow Lindskold, “let a guy breath, why don’t cha."

     “I’m sorry,” I timidly mumbled , moving over.

     “Speak up, I’m deaf and you’re a mealy mouth”, she yelled.

      “Would you like me to read to you or I could help you write a letter to your family?" I stammered.

     “Well, for gosh sakes,” she gasped. “I can read and write, at least I could before I came to this joint.”

     “Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t do either one,” I stuttered.

     “I like good books, pick up a copy of that new book “Atlas Shrugged” and I’ll help you read it to me,” she called over her shoulder as she sauntered back to her room for her nap.

     I couldn’t figure out what she meant by helping me read to her, I thought it would be the other way around, but my job was to please the guests on Wing Three. The library in town had a copy and I drug this big hardback book to the nursing home on my next visit.

     The Widow Lindskold called “Atlas Shrugged” a magnum opus which I incorrectly translated the meaning to be a damn big book. I started reading to her three days a week, but soon, she was reading to me. At almost every page she would put the book down and patiently explain what the author was trying to convey. Such things as a collectivist society, American social classes, the philosophy of objectivism and altruism. The book was way over my head, but I had a genius for a teacher. It took us three months to wade through “Atlas Shrugged” and I think she must have skipped over several chapters out of consideration for her pupil’s weak mind.

     With her help, I became a student of reading. After “Atlas Shrugged” she gave me a list of books to get at the library. Homer’s “Iliad“, Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”, Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring”, among many. It was like I had been walking in the desert and finally found an oasis. I couldn’t read the books fast enough to slacken my thirst.

     After about a year I noticed I was losing my friend, teacher and guru. She was slipping away from me and I couldn’t make her stay. She had her own path to follow. Back in the 1960’s no one ever heard of Alzheimer’s. Everyone felt that growing old made some people a little off balance. Her deterioration was slow and heart wrenching to watch. She finally entered a world that I couldn’t understand and she became totally unreachable. How could someone with such a wonderful mind fall victim to a hell on earth?

     The Widow Lindskold was a remarkable woman. I think about her almost every day. She was well educated, inherently kind and reveled in acting like a pit bull at a dog show. She had confided to me the three things that would bring joy to everyone’s life and I know for a fact that she would consider it a privilege that you are now going to know…

     #l. When you get to be 80 years old you have earned the right to be cantankerous.

     #2. Never pass up an opportunity to fill an empty mind.

     #3 For God’s sake take care of your teeth. God gives you two good sets, the rest are plastic.