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Can you write? Good. Write a letter or a card for me. My hands are shaky.
Can you sing? Good. Help me with the words and I'll sing along.
Can you tell me about your job? I was a nurse once, myself.
Can you listen? Wonderful. I'm starved for conversation.
Can you make a sponge cake or zucchini bread or angel biscuits or fudge? They aren't on the nursing home menu, but I remember how good they were and I would like to taste them again.
Do you play checkers or dominoes or rummy? Fine, so do I. But there is never anyone who has the time. They are understaffed around here, you know.
Do you play the violin or the flute or the piano? My hearing is poor but I can here any kind of music. Even if I fall asleep, you'll know I enjoyed it.
Once we were somebodies, just like you. We were farmers and farmers' wives, teachers, nurses, beauticians, stockbrokers, electricians, bankers and sheriffs, and maybe a few outlaws, too. We're not all senile - just old and needing more attention than our families can give us. This home, whatever its name, is "home" to us, and you're an invited guest.
Please come. The welcome mat is always out - not just on Thanksgiving or Christmas.
I hope you will keep this and read it every other month of the year. We'll still be here and our needs will be the same.
--author unknown
Those who can use your help may be nearer than you think. Some day you might need this kind of help. Set the example today for those who will help you tomorrow.