With age, came the words of wisdom. After meeting Doreen, I realized immediately that this elderly woman had a passion for life. Her eccentricity and charm offered me inspiration, as well as a glimpse into the past. A time long forgotten.
My appointment was set for 1:00 pm with Doreen Bailey, and I arrived right on time. I crossed the grass median and ventured up the front walk. The long weeds poked through the cement walkway, and the stairs were strewn with branches and leaves from the large tree that overshadowed her yard. I peered through the screen door and realized that this was the sun porch used as a living area, at least during the summer months. The main entrance was blocked off to visitors.
I rounded the side of the house and made my way up the driveway to the side entrance. Knocking on the wooden screen door, I heard a faint voice from inside, “Come on in dear, I will be with you in a minute.” After entering the long sun porch, I immediately noticed her rollator and walking cane nearby. This living area was cluttered with blanket-covered couches, chairs, tables, and an array of knickknacks. I quickly noticed the sign which was taped to the floor, ‘no shoes beyond this point’, as well as noticing that all of the carpet edges were taped to the floor with black adhesive. I heard Doreen speaking from the room directly inside the kitchen, but I was unable to make out what she was saying. I didn’t dare enter the kitchen after reading the sign about the shoes. It was an overcast summer day and I was wearing only sandals, and I really didn’t relish the idea of removing my footwear.
Doreen appeared from the room off the kitchen and I smiled when I saw this cute little lady, slightly hunched-over, with one hip raised to the side. She walked with a limp, and held onto the walls as she made her way to greet me. She was wearing a lovely rayon skirt and a blouse. Her hair was greyish in colour with soft waves and curls. Her large oversized glasses covered the etched lines of her face. One of the lenses was cloudy; almost like a frosted window, with only her right eye visible. I asked Doreen if I needed to remove my footwear, and she chuckled and said, “Oh no dear, that sign is just for the men with their dirty boots.” She glanced up at me with a sweet smile, and I knew this was going to be a great visit.
We sat at the kitchen table and I opened my binder, handing her my business card. I started writing her name and address at the top of the page, and she gave me a few details that I needed for my files. Doreen was born in 1918, and would be celebrating her 90th birthday this year. She looked quite healthy for her age and her mind seemed to be in sharp form. Doreen didn’t waste any time in telling me that she had suffered major back surgery in 2002, after moving boulders at a nature park. She said that one of the rocks landed on her chest. She also lost her left eye a few years back. The story began when Doreen said, “The doctor was putting some experimental drops in my eye when all of a sudden, my eye dropped out of its socket and into my lap.” I said, “Really?” in a shocked voice and wondering if that could be possible. She replied, “Yes, and I was rushed to the hospital, but nothing could be done.” In a matter-of-fact tone, she finished the story saying, “When I was young, my vision in that eye was never very good and that is why they tried the drops.” Doreen was full of stories, and I could sense that she had been telling them for years.
One thing very unique about Doreen, is the fact that she has been an accomplished artist all of her life. It wasn’t long into our conversation when we were up from the table and heading into her back room to see the oil painting that was in progress. Before we entered the room, which she referred to as her bedroom, she adamantly said to me, “Don’t look at any of the clutter.” I quickly agreed before she turned the door handle, but I couldn’t help but notice how chaotic the room looked. I felt badly glancing around after just assuring her that I wouldn’t, but once in the door Doreen wasn’t as concerned. She was eager to show me her painting. There was an empty shelving unit in the middle of the floor, with boxes and clothes and things strewn around the room. I only glanced around for a minute before turning to admire the painting on the small easel. It was perched on a table beside the window. An array of paints, in a variety of colours covered the tabletop. The painting was in the preliminary stages, but she had already captured the beginning of a beautiful outdoor scene with trees and water. I couldn’t believe that this talented lady, at almost 90 years of age had the drive and desire to continuing painting. I looked at Doreen and said, “Your passion for art must keep you going.” Her body seemed to stand upright for a moment; she even looked taller, when she piped up, “It certainly does keep me going.”
The chatter between the two of us was continuous. I felt like she was a long lost friend. I sensed a certain kindred-spirit with Doreen, and throughout our visit that would certainly be the case. We headed back to the kitchen table, talking about everything and anything. She only sat down for a moment before she was up again, slowly shuffling behind my chair and into the front room. I got up from my chair and followed her. She said, “I have some things to show you.” She opened the door and I felt my jaw drop open. I was amazed at the sight in front of me. Her living room resembled a museum, but had the flair of an amusement park rolled into one. The heavy drapes were pulled closed and she told me that she doesn’t use this room in the summer time. It resembled a space lost in time; like entering the twilight zone, and my tour was about to begin.
My personal guide Doreen was full of life. We walked past an antique bureau filled with knickknacks which she had gathered over the years. I looked up at the mirror and noticed it was covered in Christmas garland and red bows, and on top of the staircase stood a small Christmas tree. It was early summer, and I immediately said to Doreen, “You still have all your decorations up.” She didn’t skip a beat before answering, “Ah, what does it matter, the season comes ever year.” I laughed out loud, and I could tell she was getting a kick out of my reaction. The tour was in full-swing and I was more than a willing participant for Doreen to entertain.
She pointed to the stairs going to the landing, and they were covered in oil paintings which she had already finished. They were all beautifully done, capturing many different outdoor scenes. She pointed to a lovely painting; a scene with a small cottage nestled in a wooded area. The cottage roof was painted in a captivating red-tone which made it jump out from the landscape. She said, “That one is sold and I am sending it to California wrapped in an afghan. This woman never ceased to amaze me. She had all the energy of a young vibrant woman, but visibly her body showed the crippling signs of age. I turned and looked into the living room, my eyes scanning the walls with all of her artwork. The room was packed with items from years gone by. Antiques, plastic flowers in cheap vases, dated lampshades, and various old tin boxes; it was more than the eye could take in with one visit.
Just as I turned around to view the rest of the room, I set sight on the dining room. I was taken aback by what I saw. The long dining room table was completely set, just as if company were about to arrive any minute. When I closed my eyes for a moment, I visualized a group of women from a past era, sitting at the table drinking tea. The table was decorated in the Christmas theme. A red, white, and green festive table cloth, plates, glasses, pie servers, side plates and cutlery adorned the table. It was set for at least 8 people. The small chandelier above the table was covered in at least 20 red bows tied to the lights fixtures. The rest of the room was taken up with oversized bureaus filled with glassware, dishes, and everything imaginable. It was truly a site to behold. Doreen told me that the table was set for any occasion. I really wondered how often the table was filled with the laughter from friends and family, but I didn’t ask that of Doreen.
We stood, chatting beside an old piano as she continued her stories about her collectables. She lifted the lid from an old tin can and told me that it was well over 100 years old. On the inside of the lid, she had taped the year, 1867. She had it filled with odds and ends. I immediately spotted the worn bible on the piano bench. When I mentioned the bible, Doreen suddenly began to relate to another story. She told me that she had many boarders live at her home over the years. Doreen had taken in people from all walks of life needing a place to call home. Sometimes at least six men or women would live there at one time. Upstairs, downstairs, wherever there was a place to lay their heads. She looked up at me with a perplexed look on her face and said, “My friends have told me that I run a ‘halfway house’ and they worry about me.” I could tell that this little lady had spunk, and she wasn’t about to turn anyone away. Over the years, Doreen said that some of the boarders had stolen from her, but it didn’t really seem to bother her. One story in particular, was about a certain man who suffered from a mental illness. Doreen began by saying, “He talked of a rich girlfriend who was always following him.” She continued on, saying to me in a whispered tone, “I asked him how she became so rich?” She leaned over and cupped her hand to her mouth before adding, “He said that she was a ‘harlot’.” We both laughed. Doreen also said, “That was when I decided to have someone come and remove him from the premises.” I wondered about how many other stories this eccentric woman had from years’ past.
Doreen slowly turned on her heels holding onto the table beside her. The table was cluttered, but standing tall amongst the antiques and glass trinkets was a tall plastic replica of a cowboy holding a guitar. Written below, it said ‘county cowboy’. Just at the moment she tapped on the button and the figurine came to life, bending and strumming the guitar loudly, playing a rendition of “Your Cheating Heart”. I chuckled and said, “Oh that is so cute.” Doreen tapped the button again and the figurine stopped dead in its tracks. She shuffled forward, and we were now heading back to the kitchen. As we passed by the stairs again, she pointed to the chair that was filled with stuffed animals and toys. She turned towards me and smiled, saying, “Just one more.” She leaned down to pick up a white fluffy stuffed dog, turning it upside down to plug in the battery. I could tell by the look on Doreen’s face that she was enjoying our little tour. Just as soon as the battery was connected, she turned towards me, holding the dog closer to my face so I could get a good look. The dog started yelping out the tune, ‘Only You’, a song I remembered by the Platters from the 1950’s. I couldn’t help myself from laughing. The grin on my face must have gone from ear to ear, as she kept her one good eye focused on me. The dog’s mouth opened wide and then closed as it yelped, intermittently revealing a pink felt tongue. Doreen made sure that I heard the song from start to finish.
She piped up, “Oh I am sure that you have had enough” and I replied, “I am quite enjoying our visit and you certainly have a lot of interesting things.” She turned and grinned at me as we made our way back to the kitchen. Doreen let me pass by her. She slowly turned back, pulling the door tightly behind her. It was like the closing of a vault door to a safe; she took that much caution in the final lock-down. I had a feeling that she didn’t invite just anyone into that special room. I was honored and appreciated the grand tour.
We sat back down at the kitchen table and talked about her life growing up. This lady fascinated me, and I hung on her every word. We somehow got on the topic of teeth, and she told me that all of her teeth were pulled at the tender age of 16. Doreen dropped the tone of her voice and whispered, “You know, I was a bit of a tomboy and I liked to rough-house as a kid.” She continued with her story and asked me if I knew what the game of leapfrog was?” I said, “Oh, yes I remember that game.” Doreen said that somehow when she was on the bottom, a boy jumped over her and his knee ended up in her mouth. She sighed and said, “That was the end of my teeth.” Doreen kept on with her story and asked, “Can you imagine being without your teeth at the age of 16?” Clearly, I could not, and it must have been devastating at such a young age. It was obvious that this woman has had her fair share of tough luck, but you would never know it from her beautiful artwork. She was certainly blessed with a gift. Doreen exuded a sense of contentment and happiness with her life and it was heartwarming to witness.
It was time to wind up our visit. Glancing up at the clock, I realized that it had only been 45 minutes since I first entered Doreen’s home, but it felt like I had spent hours with her. I was enthralled with her life, and how at the age of 89 years, that she could remain in her home alone. Beside her on the kitchen table was a large bible, and I could see all the bookmarks hanging from between the pages. I asked Doreen, “Do you like to read?” She quickly repeated what I said, “Do I like to read? Yes, I love reading.” Just at the moment she reached for her bible and opened it to the spot where she had been reading. It was full of pen marks, with many verses and scriptures underlined throughout the pages. We chatted for a bit about the bible and somehow it turned to the Mormon faith. Doreen piped up, “That religion is nothing but a cult and they are all brainwashed.” She was certainly strongly opinioned on the topic, and I didn’t hesitate in changing the subject.
I knew that it was time to leave so I said to Doreen, “It’s been my pleasure to meet and visit with you.” She beamed up at me with that sweet smile, peering at me with her one good eye. I sensed a bit of sadness from Doreen when I was about to leave. I stood and walked around her chair. When I passed behind her, I touched Doreen’s shoulders; my hands feeling the protruding bones of a delicate, deteriorating body. Doreen might have been physically frail, but certainly not in spirit. I walked out to the porch area and thanked Doreen for her time. She mentioned as I was leaving that I should start reading the bible, and ironically, I felt the same way. In my mind, I was thinking back to the first bible that I was given as a child, now realizing that I should dig it out from my old books packed away in boxes.
I said my goodbyes, and I was leaving Doreen’s home with a feeling of well being and contentment. It wasn’t long before I found myself humming the tune to, “Only you…can make this world seem right…Only you can make the darkness bright.” Remembering the words made me smile.
Doreen had certainly inspired me in many ways. With her age, came the words of wisdom and a wonderful glimpse back to the past, a time long forgotten.
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