When I was a kid, my family moved around. A lot. My grandpa was a successful real estate developer who, among other ventures, built nursing homes across the Midwest throughout the 1970’s. My parents would swoop in to get everything running smoothly, then move on to the next opening. During the summer after kindergarten, Mom, Dad and I moved from Lincoln, NE to Falls City, an inconsequential little town plopped somewhere in the vast and utterly boring landscape between Lincoln and Omaha. Farmland friendship here we come!
Mobile Home Sweet Home
We lived in a trailer near the newly built nursing home. I spent a big part of that summer playing alone in the dimly lit hallways as new residents began to move in. Once the families got their loved ones settled in and said goodbye, I was the only kid around. I became something of a mascot, and I was more than happy to be center of attention!
One thing I learned from being the new kid so often was how to make friends. And one of the beautiful things about kids is that they are completely indiscriminate about who they befriend.
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An unlikely friendship
So there I was, six years old, getting ready to start first grade and my new best friend was an elderly lady named Helen Marfus, who was bipolar and wheelchair bound. Helen was in a manic phase for most of our friendship so she was tons of fun to play with! Although it was hard for a six-year-old to understand where her friend went when she fell into a depressive state and didn’t want to play anymore.
Despite the enormous age gap, children and the elderly actually have quite a bit in common. They take naps in the afternoon, occasionally have accidents and get away with things because they’re so damn cute! Helen and I pushed the envelope on that last one with one of our favorite toys: wheelchairs. And what better place than a brand-new, mostly empty nursing home to find a wheelchair for me, folded up waiting for the next resident, and plenty of empty spaces to play with them. Helen brought her own toys from home.
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Naughty in Nebraska
One time, Helen and I recruited another, more ambulatory resident to participate in our latest grand adventure: wheelchair races. We needed someone to say, “On your mark! Get set! Go!” because Helen was prone to cheating. I can’t remember that lady’s name. She didn’t last long with me and Helen. Most likely the constant threat of apprehension was just too much for her.
At the end of one of those long, dimly lit hallways, Helen and I lined up our front wheels on the agreed upon line in the linoleum, as if it were the start line of the Daytona 500. Our two little bodies barely filled up the blue canvas seats, both of us sporting wild eyes and big, eager smiles with a few missing teeth as was appropriate for both our ages. Barely visible at the other end of the racetrack stood our flag lady like Cha Cha at Thunder Road, only wearing a house coat and comfortable shoes.
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Busted on Geriatric Road
She held aloft a mint green cloth napkin borrowed from the cafeteria (by Helen, of course!) ready to be ceremoniously dropped to start the race. Her other hand held resolutely onto her walker, equipped with tennis balls in case a speedy exit became necessary.
Sadly, Geriatric Road got shut down before it could even become a thing when one of the orderlies came around the corner behind the start line. As the mint colored napkin floated to the ground, all the way down at the other end of the hallway, the flag lady turned on her tennis balls and made her escape. My bestie and I weren’t so lucky.
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I’m not mad, just disappointed
Kyle was a tall, thin, eager-to-please high school senior who worked part-time at the nursing home as an orderly. Looking back, I bet he enjoyed the authority bestowed upon him by his poop-brown orderly uniform! Tucking his stringy hair behind one ear, he reached down for the handles of my rig.
“Up you go, kid” he said to me before turning toward my partner in crime.
“Come on, Helen. Back to your room,” he told her, shaking his head. Later in life, I would realize that the look Kyle was giving us was the I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed look. I would grow to know it well. It’s the worst.
Friendship’s my favorite!
“Geez Louise, you two could get into trouble at a dang monastery!” He folded up my wheelchair and pushed it up against the wall, grumbling the whole time. Why is he so grumpy? I thought to myself. I followed Kyle, swinging my arms, smiling and chewing on my hair, as he walked me to my dad’s office for the forty-seventh time.
I’m pretty sure that I had already forgotten why I was walking with Kyle to my dad’s office. I couldn’t wait to play with Helen again! Making friends is fun!
Thank you for reading … and being a friend, Noelle
Foot Note: In Sleep … The Other Vital Sign, I shared a bit about my own depression and how debilitating it can be. I want to say about more about Helen’s bipolar disorder. It was the kind with longer cycles of intense mania and severe depression. During our time in Falls City, about a school year, she only went through one cycle. She went from a total trouble maker and goof ball, to not uttering another word overnight. It was such a shock!
Once, Helen told me there was something stuck in her shower. She asked me to get it out. When I went in for a closer look, she reached in and turned the water on, drenching me! I can still hear her cackling! She used to grab the ends of my long braids and shake them like horse reigns, calling out “Yaw! Yaw!” from her wheelchair. And then, nothing. It was as if her light just shut off. I don’t know if it ever turned back on. I hope so.
Keep the stories coming Noelle! So good. And your picture! Priceless. ❤️
Thanks for reading, Audrey! There’s really not much sweeter than a big grin full of teeth in various stages of falling out and growing in!
Noelle, this is really great to see this story after reading the first chapter of your book. I think when your book comes out your going to get a lot of foot traffic on your blog for the “rest of the story.” Nicely done.
Hard to believe the stories that originate from a year in a tiny, two restaurant (one nursing home) town in the heartland of America! Thanks for all your support, Cami!
What a great memory. So glad you shared it with us. Miss ya Hugs
Thanks for reading, Helen! I’m so glad you enjoyed it!
Good stories young lady
Thanks Dad. 🙂
It’s always a treat to read your blog posts as you reveal another precious piece of your life. Keep the stories coming.
Thank you so much, Randye! I promise lots more to come!
As a HUGE fan of elderly and because I had a similar story about my “Aunt” Hazel who Instilled a naughty / mean streak. I loved reading this, my memories came flooding back. I enjoyed this friend !
Annabeth!! Thank you for reading and commenting! Here’s to us being the “Aunt” Hazel and Helen creating great stories for the next generation of impressionable little girls! I’m pretty sure RBG will be looking down on us from the great beyond, nodding her head and saying her own version of “You go, girls!”
Love this and love you! Such a bummer I was yet around for these adventures! Love that you are sharing these and you do it in a truly beautiful way!!!! Can’t wait to read more!
Oh don’t you worry, little sister … there’s plenty more to come!
You’re right. I can see why you worked so hard on getting the photos just right. Your descriptitive writing tells the story wonderfully but the photos make it tie together so nicely. And, thanks for adding the postscript about Bipolar. There are many different kinds and a magic pill doesn’t make it all go away even for those who take their meds faithfully.
Thanks for reading, Jill. And for acknowledging my photo frustrations! I probably spent more time trying to get those damn pictures in there than I did writing the story! Apparently you CAN teach an old dog new tricks … the uptake is just a bit slower!
My favorite of your posts so far. Your humor and voice translate so well to written word and the stories you craft with them are heartfelt and honest. You are clearly growing as a writer, and your confidence is well earned — you rock.
I love you.
I don’t even know how to reply. Thank you doesn’t come close to cutting it! Your support means so much to me. And I love that you’re my number one proof reader! You’re a chip off the old block, kiddo! What a lucky old block I am!
I truly believe that there are no limits to the Many Accomplishments, that my sweet dear friend from Fayetteville High is certain to attain!!I I could hear you telling me this story, as if you were beside me cruising in the Blue Cutles with many hash marks on the windshield!! What an excellent memory, I’m hooked!!