Remembering one of my favorite residents.

Brownie

It was the first workday of my first summer job; I was thirteen. I reported at seven a.m. to begin my housekeeping assignment. As time got closer to lunch, I was asked if I would be willing to feed a patient because the nurses were short-staffed. I went to the nurse’s station for directions. A nurse took me down the hall to the TV Lounge. As we turned the corner there was Brownie reclined in a wooden Geri-Chair in the hallway just outside the lounge.

Brownie, who had no family and was a ward of the state, had been institutionalized all of his life. He had advanced muscular dystrophy and was mentally retarded. His hands and feet were severely deformed, and his neck which was tightly angled into his shoulder twitched from time to time. I was told he could not communicate in any way. I was instructed to feed him carefully and not to expect any response from him.?

As you might imagine I was very nervous about feeding him. I had never seen a pureed meal before and his meal, all the same color, and looked like slop to me, something I might feed to my dog. I felt deep sympathy for Brownie. I thought what a cruel trick life has played on him. So, I pulled up a chair beside him right there in the hallway.?

I picked up the napkin and placed it under his chin, brought the spoon through the puree, lifted it to his mouth, and then something wonderful happened. For the first time in my life, I understood that the eyes truly are the windows to the soul. Something in Brownie’s eyes spoke to me and we immediately connected. As I continued to feed him, he became more animated and responsive to me.?I was so excited by our interaction that I told the nurse what had happened, and she told me it was only because he was being fed, a natural reaction and that I shouldn’t make more of it and just continue to feed him. But I knew better; he was reacting to something in me because Brownie saw something in my eyes too.?

Feeding Brownie became my daily assignment, one I enjoyed more than anything else during the day. So much was communicated between us through eye contact alone. I would often stay and feed Brownie at dinner and come in on my days off to feed him. Over time the nurses began to comment that Brownie was responding to me emotionally and physically like no other person. We developed a genuine friendship even though a word was never spoken between us.?

Brownie’s eyes were brown and clear. l could see my reflection in his pupils. As the spoon got closer to his mouth his eyes would open wider, his mouth would open like a drawbridge to receive his meal and his neck would move forward ever so slightly to meet the spoon. As he ate his eyes would never leave mine. While he was waiting for me to fill the spoon with food his eyes would twinkle with a smile of anticipation. I felt like I was making a difference in my friend's life for the better, and although I didn’t realize it then he was making a profound difference in mine.?

I continued to feed Brownie the rest of the summer and when I was back in school, I would feed him on weekends and vacations until he passed away later that year.?

It’s been thirty-five years since Brownie, and I became friends. He taught me that your true being is seen in the depth of your eyes, that is where all communication begins, in the windows of the soul. To this day when I first meet someone, I look into their eyes, hoping to find another Brownie.?

You may see different things when you look at a clear night sky full of twinkling stars and infinite possibilities. But when I look to the night sky I sill see the twinkle in Brownie’s eyes.

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