The Geriatric Boy Scout
B. Lee Coyne
50plus Magazine
Optimism is my driving force. I refuse to allow any small matter to get my goat or derail me, and people often appeal for my secret formula.
Helping others without expecting anything in return is a big chunk of that recipe. It entails no strings. For this I’ve been nicknamed a “Geriatric Boy Scout.”
Half a century ago, I was in my 30s, living on the East Coast — Queens, to be precise. I was in the process of changing careers from journalist to. . . what?
The field of social work had its attraction. But what should be my specialty? I pondered.
Having been raised in part by grandparents, I had a predisposition in that direction. Something told me that one fine day I would enter the aging category. That meant my new career would be a lab for practical learning!
This prediction came to life in baby steps. It began with the launch of a new interracial suburban senior center in Jamaica, Queens in 1975. I would be their first social services director.
Challenges came rapidly. First was the scourge of post bank holdups. In that era, SS checks arrived in mailboxes on the 3rd of the month. The recipients’ job was to deposit them at their own risk. Local drug addicts soon found out and hatched a trap for seniors. The 3rd of the month was their field day for purse-snatching elders. They had lookout teams to spot those headed home and trap them in elevators.
Facing a loaded pistol was scary business.
Hence, I appealed to the local police’s community relations officers to help thwart robberies. Going in pairs was one useful remedy. Hiding the bulk of one’s money in underwear via a bathroom visit was another.
Shut-In Planning
Every community has its share of the homebound. I felt added compassion if they lived alone. Our active elderly enjoyed monthly forums with guest speakers, but our shut-ins sadly lacked an equivalent.
Two newly homebound ladies complained; they desperately wanted to find mental stimulation.
A solution
The “Sunshine Line” used teleconferencing to link the visiting forum speaker to 5-7 homebound folks as a follow-up activity. This allowed for social interaction, balancing extroverts & introverts. It worked like a charm and earned coverage by The NY Times.
My social casework had its set of turns in the road. Following are three of the more memorable.
Case #1. The client was a pianist who played at special events. One day she suffered a stroke. Her music was stilled, and she became depressed. I lured her to a nearby nursery school.
Easy nursery tunes were on the stand. The kids were hiding, emerging with cheers as she tickled the keys. She found a new role to flourish once again.
Case #2. A grandma with four adult children often sat on a bench at her apartment viewing planes approaching nearby JFK Airport. One Friday her angina chest pain acted up and she needed to get to the onsite clinic. I got a wheelchair and hurried to her apartment. She was glad
I was available.
With each yard, her pain intensified. I couldn’t think of a remedy. . . until this crazy notion: “Lillian, you’ve had four kids, but I’ve never had even one. Tell me how each pregnancy went.
She began recalling each infant’s birth. Her eyes glistened with joy and her pain eased. Somehow, we’d found a mini mental miracle.
Case #3. Eli and his wife of 58 years were nearly inseparable. He would do anything for her. Then, one day, she passed on.
He asked me how to honor her memory in a meaningful way, telling me she was a terrific cook. At first, I urged him to mark her birthday with her favorite dish along with music she loved.
Eli wanted more, so we brainstormed. Our answer was to home in on her foremost quality and repeat it three times a week. The meals would be his choice.
“That’s the best living memorial to her. It will be an eternal flame,” he said joyfully.
The ways we can provide others comfort, companionship, or ease their pain a bit are countless. Feel free to replicate anything in this piece that makes you smile.
Or try your own ideas.
Lee Coyne was a social worker and Gerontology instructor before retiring in 2008. He currently lives in Salem.