“Live like you're dying Seada”

Those were the last words Dino told me before he died hours later.

I walked inside, and I was surrounded with the stench of old people, cleaning supplies, and microwaveable food. I began to gag. Soon, my knees began to shake, and all I wanted to do was turn around and leave, but my mom forced me to step forward, like a baby taking their first steps. It was my first day of volunteering at Bickford Cottage, in Des Moines. Bickford was a home for elders.

My mother had worked at Bickford Cottage, a home for the elderly, for as long as I remember, and she volunteered MY time to help the old. How rude. Already, I had this assumption that old people were deranged. When I first walked in I couldn’t help but think these were the people who no one wanted, so instead they paid for them to live in a facility, where their every move is watched.

It was lunch time at Bickford, and my mom forced me to a table where six old men sat. They looked despondent. I felt the pain they felt. I introduced myself to everyone there, and then a worker asked if I would like to help them. They took me on a maze, weaving through hallways and doors. We arrived at two doors, and she entered a pin to allow us to go inside. As she opened the door she began to explain that this is the area where they kept the feeble patients. My palms began to sweat. I wasn’t expecting to be around the sickest patients.

I walked inside and the coworker left. I saw a man sitting by himself, and I thought I might as well sit next to him. His name was Dino. He was an old Italian man, and you could tell he liked to talk. He was an unusual old man. He was balding on the crown of his hair, but the rest was a curly and gray. He had slight facial hair, and he was a giant. He loved to talk about his family and play the piano. I learned that he had a beautiful wife that visited him everyday, and two sons.

Soon, I realized that not all old people are crazy. Dino and I began to talk everyday. He taught me wonderful life lessons, and taught me how to play piano, even though his fingers were aged. We could never talk much, for he got tired extremely fast.

I realized that it only takes one person to help an elder. Unfortunately, I was moved to work in the kitchen, but I still visited Dino everyday. Along the way, I met many odd, ostentatious old people. But none ever compared to Dino. He was wonderful. I always questioned why his wife and sons put him in the facility. I understood he was ill and needed aid at all times, but they could have done it themselves.

Because of Dino, I have grown to understand that no matter how old a person is, they can still have a good time. Seeing people in the old homes showed me that I should never do something like that to my parents or grandparents. Although those who are older can be annoying and confused, they still need a place they can truly call home and feel important.

I ended up spending most of my time every summer at Bickford Cottage, it became a habit. I never once felt as though I was volunteering. I was catering to those who couldn’t help themselves, and I listened to amazing stories from veterans, mothers, and funny Italian men.

Looking back, I am thankful that my mom forced me to help out at her work place. It was disgusting.,it was frightening, but I learned life lessons that help me in the choices I make every single day. If it weren’t for Dino and many others I would still fear aging.