The Resident Cat
Anyone entering Willow Haven Nursing Home had to pass through two glass framed doors built far enough apart to ensure a person couldn't hold both doors open at the same time. This design had a purpose. When a visitor entered, a feeble resident might slip through the first inside door, but getting through the second outside door, without being discovered by the staff, made escape unlikely. The architect’s design worked well and saved an untold number of frail old people from wandering outside and into trouble.
Myrtle, a longtime resident, sat across from those double doors everyday. With too much rouge on winkled cheeks and white hair neatly curled, she greeted all who came or went through those well crafted doors. The greeting consisted of a smile and a slow up and down wave of a hand. A hand misshapen by time and adorned with silver rings of multicolored stones on every finger. With great pride she remembered all the names of those who came and went, but then, everyone on staff knew Myrtle was one of the "aware" residents.
Only one person knew when the cat first wandered through the front doors on the heels of a visitor, and settled into one of the overstuffed chairs in the lounge area. That person was Myrtle. A housekeeper discovered the cat within an hour, the first day, and escorted the homeless creature outside. The next day she made the same discovery and again moved the cat through the glass doors. When it happened the third day, she reported this breach of security to the head nurse.
The nurse became suspicious, and asked Myrtle if she knew how the cat kept getting through the doors with such ease. Myrtle, of course, had no idea, but volunteered to watch for the cat if it happened ag...
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...d easy to dismiss as an old woman bent with age who dribbles her food, lost her glasses, and fell in the bathroom often. A women who's life achievements exist only in her memory. A memory that holds the freshness of youth, the excitement of first love, the joy of marriage, motherhood, and the loss of a husband. Recollections of fading beauty, shrinking independence, and the passing of health linger in her thoughts, like broken pottery with missing pieces. She remained dimly conscious that an old person is no longer needed and mostly tolerated as an obligation of society.
True, the years erode the body of strength and take away all those people and events that have comprised the fabric of a lifetime. But if the mind remains aware, then age cannot take away the capacity to love that which loves you - be it a child, a spouse or a cat named Willie.
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Finding a door to exit would become a puzzling exercise during one of their St. Albans investigations. Terri and Marie were in what is known as “the safe room,” because a large old-fashioned safe is located there. They had completed their investigation and were readying to leave the room when they realized they couldn’t. There wasn’t a door. “It was as if it had been morphed over,” said Terri. “We went around and around in circles. We were growing concerned when we made another lap and there it was. It was as if the door materialized out of nowhere,” she said.
In Derek Walcott’s “XIV,” the speaker, an aged man, is having momentary, but significant, recollection of a childhood experience. This detailed and engraved memory described through Walcott’s tone, selection of detail, usage of tropes, and point of view fully helps to convey the comic surreal nature of aging. The speaker’s recollection of the visit to the elderly woman is rather vivid, revealing to the reader that this particular instance in his life is profoundly unexpected. However, it is also an intoxicating occurrence, moreover, an adventure.
As Maria was trick or treating, she noticed one house in particular that stood out. It was a huge, beautiful mansion. Maria walked up the long cobblestone pathway and began knocking on the door. It suddenly opened and a tall women answered. She looked down at Maria with a disappointed look.
A long groaning creak drew Mark from his reverie. Pale candlelight bathed their faces as they entered the East Wing. The East Wing was a series of rooms that had more spells protecting it than the Lamia Council room. It was used for many things, receiving dignitaries and other guests, providing shelter for those in need and concealing what needed hiding. It now held a s...
Mrs. Hale describes Minnie as formerly singing “real pretty herself” (Glaspell p666). The connection between Minnie and the canary is established here, and in the bird’s physical death parallels Minnie’s emotional death (Russell). Mrs. Hale’s keen wit and patience contributes to her embodiment of The Fate sister named Clotho the Spinner, which even more evident in her correcting of Minnie Wright’s improper stitching (Russell). Mrs. Peters begins the process of investigation deeply devoted to keeping the law. She doesn 't want any disruption in the house saying, “I don 't think we ought to touch things” (Glaspell p 666) when Mrs. Hale began searching for clues. Upon finding the dead canary, Mrs. Peters view on the situation changes drastically, and she decides with Mrs. Hale to hide the tiny dead bird from the men. They both figure that if the dead canary was discovered, Mrs. Wright would be thought to be a mad woman, though it was likely Mr. Wright who killed it. Mrs. Peters sympathizes with Minnie remembering back to an old memory of her childhood, where a menacing boy killed her small kitten with a hatchet (Russell). Mrs. Peters then realizes that the justice to be served is to conceal evidence and find the answers for themselves. These
Her theme has often been the dilemmas of the adolescent girl coming to terms with family and a small town. Her more recent work has addressed the problems of middle age, of women alone, and of the elderly. The characteristic of her style is the search for some revelatory gesture by which an event is illuminated and given personal significance. (The Canadian Encyclopedia Plus 1995)
Ms. Phillips met us in the waiting area and walked us through the very spacious building to the elevator, taking us to her office on the third floor. She explained to us that the building was once a hospital (W. Phillips, personal communication, October 4th, 2013). This explained the wide doorways, spacious halls, drab atmosphere, and considerable amount of walking it takes to get from one place to the next. Ms. Phillips’ office had very welcoming in décor. Pictures of her child and what seemed to be his artwork, and the work of other children, decorated almost every available wall space. Because the room was once a hospital room, the layout was very strange for an office. Visitors have to sit perpendicular to Ms. Phillips’ desk. Because Ms. Phillips provides in home services, I do not believe this would aff...
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can't seem to remember what it was. Either way, it's gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
The descriptive language incorporated in this narrative helps to describe the physical characteristics of the elderly and allows the reader to understand the extent of the speaker’s fear of aging. Throughout this work the reader is greeted with various characteristics that are described in a stereotypical fashion to emphasize the minute flaws in the appearance of the elderly; “ash hair, toad hands, prune face dried into lines” (Larkin 1426). Using these characteristics, the reader can view the deterioration of youth’s beauty into old a...
When she reached the building where F.R.Fraser operated, she managed to talk the security guard into letting her in. She simply told the truth: that she was collecting something for an employee who had died recently. After receiving condolences, she was allowed in through the turnstile. The main foyer was modern, with a man-made waterfall dribbling down a marble wall. There was a cafe in one corner for employees. She pressed the elevator button. When one of the elevator doors opened, the presence of the man who stepped out shocked her.
Mrs. Mallard is an ill woman who is “afflicted with heart trouble” and had to be told very carefully by her sister and husband’s friend that her husband had died (1609). Her illness can be concluded to have been brought upon her by her marriage. She was under a great amount of stress from her unwillingness to be a part of the relationship. Before her marriage, she had a youthful glow, but now “there was a dull stare in her eyes” (1610). Being married to Mr. Mallard stifled the joy of life that she once had. When she realizes the implications of her husband’s death, she exclaims “Free! Body and soul free!” (1610). She feels as though a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and instead of grieving for him, she rejoices for herself. His death is seen as the beginn...
When first reading this short story the character of an older woman comes to mind only to find later in an important passage “She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength (Clugston, 2010, sec 2.1). This passage finally gives the reader a detailing idea of the woman in this story and defines her as a younger woman rather than an older one. This may l...
Inside the nicely decorated room with taupe walls just the perfect hint of beige, lie colorful accessories with incredible stories waiting to be told. A spotless, uninteresting window hangs at the end of the room. Like a silent watchman observing all the mysterious characteristics of the area. The sheer white curtains cascade silently in the dim lethargic room. In the presence of this commotion, a sleepy, dormant, charming room sits waiting to be discovered. Just beyond the slightly pollen and dust laden screens, the sun struggles to peak around the edges of the darkness to cast a bright, enthusiastic beam of light into the world that lies beyond the spotless double panes of glass. Daylight casts a dazzling light on the various trees and flowers in the woods. The leaves of fall, showcasing colors of orange, red, and mustard radiate from the gold inviting sunshine on a cool fall day. A wonderful world comes to life outside the porthole. Colossal colors littered with, abundant number of birds preparing themselves for the long awaited venture south, and an old toad in search of the perfect log to fall asleep in for the winter.
Mrs. Mallard’s repressed married life is a secret that she keeps to herself. She is not open and honest with her sister Josephine who has shown nothing but concern. This is clearly evident in the great care that her sister and husband’s friend Richard show to break the news of her husband’s tragic death as gently as they can. They think that she is so much in love with him that hearing the news of his death would aggravate her poor heart condition and lead to death. Little do they know that she did not love him dearly at all and in fact took the news in a very positive way, opening her arms to welcome a new life without her husband. This can be seen in the fact that when she storms into her room and her focus shifts drastically from that of her husband’s death to nature that is symbolic of new life and possibilities awaiting her. Her senses came to life; they come alive to the beauty in the nature. Her eyes could reach the vastness of the sky; she could smell the delicious breath of rain in the air; and ears became attentive to a song f...
had warned her that if he found the cat on the porch he’d wring its neck. When he caught