T.N.G. SIGNS
OF THE TIMES - N.M. March 20,
2004 (#130)
Greetings from
Russell's Remnant: www.oocities.org/dkone_us
Dr. Russell Whitesell was the
kindest, most loving man that most members of his Tuesday Night Group (TNG) had
ever encountered. He counseled with
Royalty, Prelates, U.S. Presidents, Heads of State, as well as other members of
the Hierarchy on the planet. He also
did little things for neighbors who lived in small trailers next to him, and
who could not take care of themselves.
The following story is something Russell would have done for
someone. In this case, a member of our
own TNG did it. We were moved by her
actions and asked her to share her story with us all. If each of us did something like this daily, truly this planet
would be a much better place to live.
Twenty Minutes with Elbert – DM
Sometimes acknowledging what is right in our world can take us a long way
toward seeing what it would be like to correct all the vast inadequacies,
endless error and poor choices so rampant everywhere in the world. Looking a little closer with the microscope
can often bring in the opposite broader picture with amazing clarity (as above
so below).
Elbert is a good example. He can frequently be seen in his wheel chair
negotiating the sidewalks in front of his nursing home. He's the only resident of the home on the
sidewalks. All the other inmates in his
institution stay close to the door or inside.
He's pushing the boundaries as far as he feels he can. In his own small way, he's a leader in his
environment... a freedom fighter of sorts.
One of the TNG local group members lives in Elbert's neighborhood and has been
observing his treks for many months.
Parking along side his wheel chair, a conversation ensued. When asked, Elbert said he was not allowed
to leave the grounds. He indicated that
residents can roll up and down the sidewalks, but that is the extent of their
outings. Looking into his eyes, the student said, "It's a shame those
folks in there don't see you as a person inside this old body." He said, "Yes."
Elbert says he's had some brain damage from a stroke with paralysis in the
right extremities of his body. Mentally
he's functioning relatively well, but speech is slow and sometimes he isn't
able to express ideas well or at all.
He comically sticks his tongue out on one side, rolls his eyes back, and
begins to shake his head which is cocked to one side. He's demonstrating his condition right after the stroke (and
perhaps making a reference to his fellow inmates as well). Both laughing, an inquiry is made as to how
long ago the stroke happened. He counts
it down... one, two, three, four, five years ago. The student of the TNG smiles and replies that he's doing very
well now and Elbert agrees. He points
to the indentation in the left side of his head. His right leg and arm are
strapped to his wheelchair in fixed positions.
Elbert has a well-worn blue binder alongside him in his wheelchair. In rather childish handwriting, it has his
name on the front and his previous occupation (X-Ray Tech at Charity Hospital). There's a page that indicates he's from a
neighboring town. He says he's in his
50s, but that's doubtful from his appearance.
He counts down... one, two, three, four, five, to indicate his
approximate age.
Inside the three ring binder are sheets of paper in sheet protectors that tell
about his life. Elbert's whole life is
childishly depicted in this binder.
There are little drawings perhaps from a grandchild. And pictures of military aircraft...
bombers, stealths, older military planes.
When asked, he indicates that he once served in the military. It took some guessing of branches, but Army
appears to be the right one. Said he'd
seen a plane like one of the older ones crash once, but he couldn't manage the
explanation of what had actually happened.
(When he slowed down, he could generally communicate adequately. Speeding up didn't work at all.) The student told Elbert about a friend who
was in Vietnam and he seemed to get real charged up about that. Possibly he could have been there, too. Perhaps not. When asked if he had worked on or flew planes and he said,
“No.” Questioned about the planes being
a hobby, he indicated a happy yes. He just seemed to like them very much.
Perhaps there are more stories in this for another day.
Also in his book are pages of pictures with words written underneath them. These are common words for everyday
necessities like eyeglasses, spoon, and water.
Perhaps he had them to assist in communication when words fail and
undoubtedly it also helps in remembering the words and bringing functionality
back to his speech.
Flipping
casually through the binder stopping here and there, the subject of reading
naturally came up. Elbert said he reads
and pointed to glasses on one of his pages in the binder. The student said they both needed glasses
and Elbert seemed quite surprised.
After a little difficulty communicating, it appeared he needed reading
glasses. The student handed him a pair
of magnifier glasses from the car, and Elbert put them on so he could see the
kind of glasses they had in common between them. He smiled from ear to ear and looked at his hand up close with
the glasses on. He really liked those
glasses and could see well with them.
He handed them back and a couple more times during the conversation, the
student handed the glasses back to him while he was talking. He'd put them on each time and look through
them. When asked if they were better
than the ones he had (which were hanging in his tee shirt alongside his
sunglasses), he said he could see much better with these new glasses. He indicated that his glasses were not
prescription. His old ones looked a bit
worn, scratched, dirty and well used.
So when asked if he'd like to keep these new wonder glasses, he smiled
broadly and said, "Yes."
There's a lot of important hierarchical work to be done in the world today, and
so few of us measure up to that task that it often fails to occur at all. Perhaps concentrating on a younger group of
people might be more productive from a time perspective. Children do have more time to use new
knowledge. But it's important also that
"redeeming matter" happens in small ways, in small moments, in the
“now” of our lives. After all, there is
a bright, shining being of light in Elbert's tired, worn body. It is there. Just as surely as in any esoteric student's. So, what we do with our elderly, tired,
ignored brothers is important, too. If
they can learn a trick or two before they come back into incarnation next life,
won't they be one step closer to their destination? And isn't one-step closer all any of us can really do in the
moment?
After Elbert's little chat, a flood of ideas rushed in about institutional
administrators who allow wholesale cattle calls of men and women in these
homes. A single person who chooses to
make a difference can do so much.
Someone who will tilt with a windmill or two, win some administrative
battles and lose a few. Maybe there's a
spot in an administrative agency for a volunteer with ideas that don't cost
money... only love and consideration of human beings. Maybe there's a place for a newsletter for patients on how to
cope with and live well within the boundaries of their reality.
Perhaps the little chat with Elbert
wasn't so little after all.
And even if it was, Elbert has new glasses and eyes with which to see the world
today.
***
The hole you
give through is the hole you receive through.
Editor’s Note: As a
follow-up to this story, the TNG group member who told this original story of
her meeting with Elbert, recently saw a large coffee table type book on Military
Aircraft at a bookstore. She
purchased the book and took it to Elbert who was extremely excited as she gave
it to him. He thanked her and spun his
wheelchair one hundred and eighty degrees and took his new book into the
nursing home to show the others his new possession.