What do a former Gilroy mayor, the owner of the Leedo Gallery, a
recycling coordinator, a banker, a freelance grant writer, a
retired contractor, and a community activist have in common? They
can all be found serving meals at Wheeler Manor, a Gilroy
retirement home for seniors 62 and older.
What do a former Gilroy mayor, the owner of the Leedo Gallery, a recycling coordinator, a banker, a freelance grant writer, a retired contractor, and a community activist have in common? They can all be found serving meals at Wheeler Manor, a Gilroy retirement home for seniors 62 and older. Volunteers under the guidance of South County Housing and St. Joseph’s Family Center, come together to prepare food, wait tables and chat with the residents at Wheeler. The $2 dinners cost less than a tall latte at Starbucks and give a time of socializing two nights a week for residents who gather to eat together.
Earla is a widow who has outlived two of her six children. She celebrated her 80th birthday at last Monday’s dinner.
“I’m all alone now, but I’m very fortunate to have a son in Los Gatos who is still close enough to visit.”
Chef Laticia Jimenez said Monday’s attendance figures were up from what they’ve been lately. About 27 came to dinner, with several ordering the food to go. The goal has been to serve 35 dinners.
“If enough don’t come,” says resident and hostess Ginny Bendel, “we’re worried that they might not keep serving the dinners. It’s such a good deal. I combine this with Meals on Wheels, and it really helps me. We need to encourage more people to come down to dinner.”
Trying to deal with arthritis in a knee or getting around in a wheelchair doesn’t make cooking easy.
“Cooking for one doesn’t work out that well,” says Bendel. “You always have too much left over.”
“What’s you favorite meal here?” I ask, and several people say, “tonight’s,” pointing to the slow-cooked pork, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, green salad, and a choice of three kinds of cake.
“We need our table fixed,” another diner complains. David Cox, director of St. Joseph’s comes out of the kitchen to help. The table legs are uneven, and the table is moving back and forth. “Rock and roll,” one gentleman says, “We’re the rock and roll table.”
“That’ll be a five dollar charge per leg for adjustments,” Cox jokes as he fixes the table.
“I was named for my mother and my father both,” Jessie Pauline says. She wears her hair in a long braid and loves to wear long, dangling earrings. The conversation turns to piercings, and she says, “My grandson has piercings.”
“Why?” a neighbor at her table asks.
“He wants to look ‘bad,’ ” Pauline answers. “All nine of my grandsons have piercings – ears, noses, tongues.”
Listening to them as I bring salad dressing to the table, I realize their conversations aren’t that different from what I hear when I listen to a group of young people. And when I look closely into Ginny’s or Earla’s eyes, I can see that although they have become older versions of themselves, age is really only an outside shell. They are still young people on the inside just trying to deal with getting older.
