Ella Mae Bentley (as submitted to Magazine for Women's Places/Women's Spaces - Feb. 2011)
Written by Betty Collins Brown
Ella Mae – Ella Mae Bentley
Her name is Ella Mae. Ella Mae Bentley. I first met her in the Maple Ridge Nursing Home. It was Christmas and our church wanted to include a visit to the local nursing home as part of our outreach program. We were given several names of residents who didn’t have family. Because my beloved Mother’s name was Ella Mae, I chose her to be my “adopted mother”. But when I met her, nothing about her reminded me of my mother, other than her name.
She wore size small. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis; her back so bent she could not stand. She had never married and did not have children. She lay on her side on a half bed near a long window. On her window sill, sat a clear plastic cup with tissue filling it from the bottom. Even though it wasn’t dirty, I knew why it was there when I saw Ella Mae wipe the corners of her mouth with a Kleenex.
My mother had worn size large. Her hands were rough as a result of hard work feeding and clothing a family of eleven. Her back was straight and her tummy was round. And she detested the use of tobacco and spit cups!
As I entered the room, I introduced myself and told Ella Mae that her name was the same as my mother’s. I gave her a Christmas present and asked if she would be my “adopted” mother. She was a little leery of me at first. I later learned she was embarrassed because she was dipping snuff and didn’t know how to get rid of it without my seeing her spit in the cup. I didn’t stay long, but told her I would return to visit her from time to time.
At Easter, I returned and brought her a basket filled with candy and plastic eggs. This time she sat in a wheel chair by her bed, her hair neat and freshly combed. She was expecting me, she said. She motioned for me to sit at the foot of her tiny bed. I sat down. She reached over and took one of my hands in her tiny bony ones, looked straight into my eyes and said “Honey, you remind me so much of my mother”. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it.
I visited her in the fall and took my grandson and my guitar. She was delighted to have a youngster to talk with but didn’t care much for my guitar playing. She was afraid it would bother the other residents.
Now it is Christmas again. I visited Ella Mae today. She said “I’ve been waiting all week for you to come.” I took her a box of candy and two hot apple pies from McDonald’s. She had told me apple pie was her favorite dessert. I suggested she share one of the pies with Hazel, her roommate. Again she asked me to sit at the foot of her bed. Again, I obliged. This time, she took my hand and said “Honey, I’m going to eat both of them pies cause Hazel’s not here right now. I’ve not seen her in four hours – four hours – now reckon where she could be for that long! Would you put them there under my pillow?” Again I smiled and did as she said. I asked if she liked her room here at Maple Ridge. She said, “I like it, but I shore miss my back porch. There I didn’t have to worry about people taking my stuff. Somebody just stole my Jergens’ lotion and my writing pens”.
We talked for awhile. I hugged her and stood to leave, telling her I would return over the weekend because I had bought her a red blouse to wear on Christmas day. She said, “Well, red is my favorite color, but it’s supposed to snow. Now don’t you try to come if it’s snowing; but if you do, make sure that red blouse is size large cause I broke a rib and I can’t wear a bra anymore. I need a size large to make sure nothing shows”! This time I laughed – her concern and her sense of humor was so very much like my mother’s. As I walked out the door, she called after me “Thank you for coming to visit, Honey, you remind me so much of my mother”.
It did snow on Christmas Day, beginning early on Saturday morning and continuing until Sunday evening. The temperature plummeted and the normal busyness of the holiday came to a halt. I thought of Ella Mae, but knew she was safe and warm in her shared room at Maple Ridge. I enjoyed being snowed in with my family. We made soup on the wood-burning stove, popped popcorn and drank hot chocolate. The grandkids loved playing in the snow, making snowmen and riding their sleighs. We were homebound for three days.
I went back to see Ella Mae when the weather improved and took the red blouse, a bottle of Jergen’s lotion and two writing pens. She was sitting on the edge of her bed spitting into the plastic cup in she held in her hand. This time she didn’t try to hide it. Her eyes lit up and she said “Well, look-a here what’s coming”! I realized at that moment how much a simple visit and an act of kindness can mean to someone whose days are spent looking out the window - unable to do the things we take for granted. And I realized how much my life is enriched by knowing Ella Mae Bentley.
When I left the nursing home that day, I told Ella Mae I would visit again soon. She said “Now you be careful”! – the very words my mother always used as we departed. I smiled back at her and said “You sound just like my mother”.
Ella Mae – Ella Mae Bentley
Her name is Ella Mae. Ella Mae Bentley. I first met her in the Maple Ridge Nursing Home. It was Christmas and our church wanted to include a visit to the local nursing home as part of our outreach program. We were given several names of residents who didn’t have family. Because my beloved Mother’s name was Ella Mae, I chose her to be my “adopted mother”. But when I met her, nothing about her reminded me of my mother, other than her name.
She wore size small. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis; her back so bent she could not stand. She had never married and did not have children. She lay on her side on a half bed near a long window. On her window sill, sat a clear plastic cup with tissue filling it from the bottom. Even though it wasn’t dirty, I knew why it was there when I saw Ella Mae wipe the corners of her mouth with a Kleenex.
My mother had worn size large. Her hands were rough as a result of hard work feeding and clothing a family of eleven. Her back was straight and her tummy was round. And she detested the use of tobacco and spit cups!
As I entered the room, I introduced myself and told Ella Mae that her name was the same as my mother’s. I gave her a Christmas present and asked if she would be my “adopted” mother. She was a little leery of me at first. I later learned she was embarrassed because she was dipping snuff and didn’t know how to get rid of it without my seeing her spit in the cup. I didn’t stay long, but told her I would return to visit her from time to time.
At Easter, I returned and brought her a basket filled with candy and plastic eggs. This time she sat in a wheel chair by her bed, her hair neat and freshly combed. She was expecting me, she said. She motioned for me to sit at the foot of her tiny bed. I sat down. She reached over and took one of my hands in her tiny bony ones, looked straight into my eyes and said “Honey, you remind me so much of my mother”. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it.
I visited her in the fall and took my grandson and my guitar. She was delighted to have a youngster to talk with but didn’t care much for my guitar playing. She was afraid it would bother the other residents.
Now it is Christmas again. I visited Ella Mae today. She said “I’ve been waiting all week for you to come.” I took her a box of candy and two hot apple pies from McDonald’s. She had told me apple pie was her favorite dessert. I suggested she share one of the pies with Hazel, her roommate. Again she asked me to sit at the foot of her bed. Again, I obliged. This time, she took my hand and said “Honey, I’m going to eat both of them pies cause Hazel’s not here right now. I’ve not seen her in four hours – four hours – now reckon where she could be for that long! Would you put them there under my pillow?” Again I smiled and did as she said. I asked if she liked her room here at Maple Ridge. She said, “I like it, but I shore miss my back porch. There I didn’t have to worry about people taking my stuff. Somebody just stole my Jergens’ lotion and my writing pens”.
We talked for awhile. I hugged her and stood to leave, telling her I would return over the weekend because I had bought her a red blouse to wear on Christmas day. She said, “Well, red is my favorite color, but it’s supposed to snow. Now don’t you try to come if it’s snowing; but if you do, make sure that red blouse is size large cause I broke a rib and I can’t wear a bra anymore. I need a size large to make sure nothing shows”! This time I laughed – her concern and her sense of humor was so very much like my mother’s. As I walked out the door, she called after me “Thank you for coming to visit, Honey, you remind me so much of my mother”.
It did snow on Christmas Day, beginning early on Saturday morning and continuing until Sunday evening. The temperature plummeted and the normal busyness of the holiday came to a halt. I thought of Ella Mae, but knew she was safe and warm in her shared room at Maple Ridge. I enjoyed being snowed in with my family. We made soup on the wood-burning stove, popped popcorn and drank hot chocolate. The grandkids loved playing in the snow, making snowmen and riding their sleighs. We were homebound for three days.
I went back to see Ella Mae when the weather improved and took the red blouse, a bottle of Jergen’s lotion and two writing pens. She was sitting on the edge of her bed spitting into the plastic cup in she held in her hand. This time she didn’t try to hide it. Her eyes lit up and she said “Well, look-a here what’s coming”! I realized at that moment how much a simple visit and an act of kindness can mean to someone whose days are spent looking out the window - unable to do the things we take for granted. And I realized how much my life is enriched by knowing Ella Mae Bentley.
When I left the nursing home that day, I told Ella Mae I would visit again soon. She said “Now you be careful”! – the very words my mother always used as we departed. I smiled back at her and said “You sound just like my mother”.
