Field Notes Four.edevault

The fourth visit was productive, but tiring. I began the two hours by reading some poetry to a Ms. W., who is a Carlisle resident. I asked her how her she had been; she responded she had not been very well the last few weeks, but that she pressed on. She is a sweet lady.

I read her some Keats ("St. Agnes' Day", I think), and she gently closed her eyes and listened. At first I thought she was asleep, but no--I would sometimes find her eyes staring my mouth, intent on listening. I could not really finish the poem, since her son and daughter-in-law came to visit. They were kind enough to let me "finish" the poem (which I really just shortened) before they visited. Ms. W. encouraged me to "continue my good work"; I am glad she thought it good, profitable.

I then traveled down to the Wylie center, but everyone was asleep; Ms. Co., who never "naps", was also gone from her room. I sat with some Wylie residents at the T.V., then decided I better make myself useful back in Carlisle. I was immediately put to use--I read more poetry to quite a gathering of residents; some were very attentive, and some were fast asleep. One man attempted to escape from his chair several times; a woman sitting beside him kept chiding "Mr. Bo., you sit still now--I'm tryin' to listen!" The alarm attached to his belt (which nurses use to keep the residents in seats and such) kept sounding as I read some more Keats, bits of Emerson, and two poems by Elizabeth Browning. Although I pictured a more...idyllic setting when reading such romantic poetry, this particular scenario portrayed poetry's more, well...transcendent qualities. It was part amusing, part profound.

Elizabeth