John+ wrote: Charles+ Your story is a touching one <snip> No one was sitting in our kitchen--but then, we lock our doors in small Indiana towns. <snip> John+ ------------------------------------------ John+ This is a strange situation, an identical repeat of one during the Thanksgiving Holidays. This is not a criticism of people who lock doors; but I chose that line to highlight my dilemna. Since I have to go today to Indianapolis for a service at Good Shepherd, stay the night and do a Eucharist with the Nigerian Anglican Chapel of Resurrection on Christmas Day, Wirginia and I won't be available should Shirley attempt another night visit. Since there is no one else, Virginia and I must do something. Ginny had to work half a day, so I am making calls for aid. I called one Senior Services agency for Hamilton County, Ohio and found an announcement that they would be closed for Thanksgiving, and not return until Monday. They hadn't the energy to change the Thanksgiving closing announcement to Christmas. I don't know if that is a lazy way to be Politically Correct, or just laziness. No help there. I called her local parish, which numbers in the thousands and probably has only one priest to serve. I left a message on the good Father's answering machine, but I doubt he will call back before I must be on the road. I called Catholic Social Services, and found that they too were closed from Christmas Eve until Monday. I called 421-LIFE a county life protective agency which supposedly is set up to assist in situations like this, having been referred to them by a social worker that I knew and also by the local police. After being on hold for an hour, a person who answered the phone suggested I call 421-LIFE. I responded that was the number I had dialed. . . a long pause. . .then "Oh!, they are not in the office, I'll take the information." After relating the story and the urgency of the situation in view of the falling snow and freezing temperatures, I was assured someone would be notified, but felt uneasy about the conversation and doubted whether anyone would look in on Shirley. A few minutes later, I heard Shirley cursing her dog and saw Shirley pulling her mongrel down the street by its collar. She had no coat on, and only a thin jogging outfit. It was now 12:30 pm. She was coming toward my door, and wanting me to take in both she and the dog. I led her back to her door, telling her that Virginia and I must leave. I assured her there were no bodies inside her home. She expressed that she was afraid, but entered. I called 421-LIFE, related the latest incident to the person who had "taken the information." Her response was, "You must call the police first." So we come to full circle on Christ Mass Eve. As on Thanksgiving, the Police refer me to Social Agencies who have no room in the inn for Shirley. All doors locked, and communications shut off. Social agencies refer me back to the police. Since becoming an adult, I have seldom locked a door, and haven't sufficient sense of self preservation to have fear. Years ago I found that my kids lost their keys and it was inconvenient to have them seeking neighbors for shelter. Besides, in those days there were often friends and relatives who would just stop by, unexpected and uninvited. They knew where to find the coffee and the refrigerator. A dozen plus years in this house and Virginia and I have only locked the door when leaving on vacation. It was probably a good thing that Shirley could find rest from the cold last night. But tonight, we won't be around, as we must go to our appointed duty. If we don't lock the door, she could do herself harm in our house, and we would be responsible. If we do lock the door, she might fall in the street and be unnoticed for hours, and again, we would be responsible. My only choice is to notify the police once again, who may make one or two stops, and also might call 421-LIFE and be told they must call the police first. Shirley will figure out that it was I, once again who ratted her out, and, if she survives the Holidays, will lock herself away for a day or two to avoid being sent back to the hospital and will be angry with me for awhile. What a world. Fr. Jim of Corpus Christi just returned my call. He said that in view of the new HIPPA laws it is difficult to get anyone to act because of "privacy issues." Shirley is not a member of his parish but he asked that I assure her he would provide help if she requests it and gave me a number where he can be reached at all times. Good man. He also said that we probably have no choice but to notify police in the hope they would have her admitted to a hospital. Robert Frost long ago wrote, "Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down!" In this world, what is it we so fear that we build walls that confine us with our demons and keeps the neighbor out? Then, when we try to move away from our walled in situation, we find other walls that deny entry. Charles+ ------------------------- Robert Frost. Mending Wall SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: 5 I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, 10 But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. 15 To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: "Stay where you are until our backs are turned!" We wear our fingers rough with handling them. 20 Oh, just another kind of outdoor game, One on a side. It comes to little more: He is all pine and I am apple-orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. 25 He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors." Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: "Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. 30 Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down!" I could say "Elves" to him, 35 But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather He said it for himself. I see him there, Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me, 40 Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father's saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."