While they were still babies, I gained a conviction to teach my daughters the value of altruism, to develop character and a broader perspective, tempering the typical navigation we all have into self-centeredness as children. So, when they were barely out of toddler-hood, I found their niche in the local nursing home close to where we lived. I knew it was the perfect environment; combining the generations of children and the elderly is the most beautiful and mutually beneficial blend. The elderly regain a sense of value for the time spent with these little people – a rare treat they can no longer experience inside the four walls that now seal them. Children gain a sense of value through the insatiable welcome and praises bestowed on them by the elderly – inspired by their mere presence! It was emotionally difficult at times over the years, but together we practiced the importance of commitment; doing something not for what you gain but for what you can give, which is altruism in a nutshell. 

     We gravitated to the handful of people in the facility that had no family, no visitors. We “adopted” them into our lives, visiting them weekly with the hugs and love they may only remember from years gone by, bringing little handmade gifts on each holiday, and occasional outings. For some of them, we were the solitary and final connection to the world in their last days on earth. How sad, but what a privilege: To have the honor of creating someone’s last smiles, to give their last affection at the end of this long journey. 
     The most magnificent moments ever spent with my girls were created in that otherwise dreary place: balloon volleyball with our feet in Emma’s room giving her side aches with laughter, singing gospel songs to Mary who cried with joy, watching the girls help out with Monday morning exercise classes as the circle of residents chuckled with glee, wheel chair rides in laps down the hall, “girl talk” with Laverne who blushed with womanly wisdom….I couldn’t believe that so many others had never thought of tapping into this goldmine of happiness, life lessons, and family bonding. So when I became Mrs. Denver-America that was the first thing I endeavored to do!

     Suddenly I had a voice, so I became an advocate for the elderly, fueled with the passion to single handedly create and develop a program called “Adopt a Grandparent”. I began collecting biographies and pictures of participating nursing homes to put in an “adoption book” to take out to the city of Denver wherever I could be invited. After a motivational speech and multi media presentation, families would select their adoption based upon what they learned from the biographies and may have had in common. This multi-generational program was 3 fold: to benefit the elderly, to teach the same valuable lessons to other kids as my daughters had learned, and to bring families together in a humanitarian act: something more bonding than maybe they had ever experienced. Eventually, this opportunity was taken to Brownie troops and schools where I mediated “pen-pal adoptions”. 

     Meanwhile, the girls and I maintained our commitments to our own “grandparents” until their death or until we moved out to North Carolina. Oh, how I miss those hundreds of special moments that now fill our hearts with bittersweet joy. Regardless of how we felt entering the nursing home on some days, we always left feeling we gained more than all we gave. I’d like to end with one personal story of inspiration: Emma was our first and most beloved “grandma” who fits the beginning illustration: she was from Poland, had survived many decades of hardship and pain, never was able to have children, her cherished husband and sister had both died within a week of each other leaving her almost physically dead from heart ache 15 years before I met her, she was completely alone in the world until the girls and I came along. But she was always full of smiles, laughed easily and heartily, and was an instrument of healing to me on the days I needed it most. Several times, without knowing my pain or even remembering who I was (with my title), she would take my face in her hands, look into my soul with her tear filled eyes and say softly as she continually pet my hair, “You are MY Mrs. America…MY Mrs. America…such a beautiful face, such a beautiful mother…I thank God for sending you to me….” I’d leave there in a cleansing flood of tears. I had been touched by God, Himself. 

    The saddest but most satisfying moment I’ll never forget, was the day we went there and found out she had died: a day I had feared for 5 years. We were deeply saddened for us but happy for her that she was released from earthly pain and in the arms of her husband and Heavenly Father now. As we left the building and looked back at her familiar window, the girls and my lipstick kisses were still there, reminding us of our tradition of running up to her window once we left to make her laugh as we would kiss her one more time from outside her window. One day I had us each put lipstick on to leave visual kisses there to greet her every morning– something the cleaning crew had miraculously overlooked for almost 2 years and the weather kindly ignored. But, this time she was not there waving behind those kisses –the empty space was felt deeply by our hearts. I hugged the girls close and said, “You made the biggest difference in another person’s life. Emma would have left this world lonely but she left here fully loved…. Do you feel her blowing thank you kisses from heaven?” We watched the smiles spread across each other’s faces as a swift breeze suddenly came to cool the tears on our cheeks.