The Potato Situation

by Willa Jones (written October, 2012)

Let's hear it again for mashed potatoes!

I have analyzed the lunch menu for October 2012. I circled mashed potatoes. You guessed it! Two circles!

There are red, party, au Gratin, tater tots, sweet, riced, fried (twice), boiled, and scalloped. Including the two mashed, I count 12 days with potatoes. Then there are five with rice and seven with pasta for substitutes.

Who knows where couscous fits into this scheme. It is not listed in my Webster's Collegiate Dictionary nor in my "Composition of Foods" prepared by the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture Handbook No. 8. Couscous is simply one of those mysteries of life but it does not compare with mashed potatoes.

Since this is voting time (Have you noticed? Oh, hasten the day!), I wondered if those of us who longed for our favorite potatoes should exercise our civil rights by:

1. Stuffing the suggestion box with, "More mashed potatoes, please." Be polite-it will get you everywhere.
2. Make and carry placards around in the dining room expressing our desires.
3. Form ourselves into a singing group and entertain the other diners with:
           
            Que sera sera.
            Mashed potatoes for you and me.
            The future then happy can be.
            Que sera sera.

It's Winter

by Loren Horton

Here it comes
Wind
Whipping out of the north
Penetrating coats
Making ears tingle
Gone-that mild fall
Suddenly its cold

Snow
Is never far behind
Once leaves have fallen
And geese have flown south
Here comes snow
Mixed with ice
Threat to life and limb
Cars skid and slide
Pedestrians slip and tumble

All part of life
In Iowa winter

An Autumn Walk

by Loren Horton

Whose idea was it
To go for this walk
In the crisp autumn afternoon
Scuffling through fallen leaves
Turned red then brown
Shuffling through unmowed grass
Brittle as straw
Against our leather shoe soles
Head turning from side to side
In pendulum rhythm
So we do not miss
Those hidden virtues
Of bright gleam of goldenrod
What is that rustling overhead
Scampering squirrel
Brief glimpse of red tail
Disappearing behind the branch
Of tall shagbark hickory
Soon the path will change
To snow, and memories
Of this good idea
This walk in the crisp air
Of autumn's glory

Summer In Iowa

by Loren N. Horton

The heat of the scorching west wind
Turns the green fields to gold
As it turns the arid soil to dust

Flowers wilt before its force
While trees droop in melancholy
And all life forms huddle to escape

The summer sun shines with intensity
Its brightness exaggerated day by day
In the cloudless enormity of the sky

Only the promise of fall brings relief
To the eagerly awaiting earth, now still,
In earnest yearning for cooler times

Oaknoll Softball T-Shirts

For the 2012 softball season, the Oaknoll-employees team has a new T-shirt design by NEIL MURPHY of Dining Services. Above, he models the shirt.   (Photo submitted by Bob Heffernen)

Favorite Quote

Submitted by Dick Feddersen

"It ain't what we don't know that gets us in trouble. It's what we know for sure that just ain't so!" ~ Mark Twain

Oaknoll Receives ANCC Designation

Oaknoll Retirement Residence is pleased to announce it has achieved Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care™ designation by the American Nurses Credentialing Center (ANCC).

The Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care designation identifies the elements of long-term care work environments where nurses can flourish. The designation substantiates the professional satisfaction of nurses at Oaknoll Retirement Residence and identifies it as one of the best places to work.

"For us, the process of seeking Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care ™ Designation has helped us describe what we were already doing well, identify areas where we could grow, and provide us opportunities for expanded leadership among all the staff," stated Kim Bergen-Jackson, Director of Health Services. 

"The designation is bestowed on organizations focused on professional work environments and best practices.  We value the people who work here and strive to be an employer of choice.  We believe employees who are invested, engaged, and involved provide exceptional, high quality care."

"The Pathway to Excellence in Long-Term Care designation is a visible affirmation of the value of our professional staff.  It stands for high standards and a level of specialization that has not been recognized in long-term care.  This process and designation raises the image of long-term care nurses and certified nursing assistants from the inside, building pride in the workplace, confidence and self-esteem.  The nursing staff not only have a voice at the table, but they expect to be at the table.  They are trained experts in their chosen profession."

"I am very proud to work at Oaknoll and I am thrilled with the work we have done to achieve this designation.  It is an honor to be the first long-term care community in the country to receive this designation," Bergen-Jackson, stated enthusiastically about the staff at Oaknoll.

"I'm very proud of Kim (Bergen-Jackson, Director of Health Service) and our staff for receiving this prestigious designation.  Oaknoll has always strived to give our residents the highest quality of care.  We absolutely believe a professional work environment and best practices contribute significantly toward this goal," said Patricia Heiden, Executive Director at Oaknoll Retirement Residence.

"Kim's leadership style encourages and empowers nurses and CNA's to grow and develop professionally.  By providing these opportunities for leadership, Kim has assembled a staff that is invested and engaged in all aspects of resident care."

"The Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care designation affirms the professional satisfaction of Oaknoll's nurses.  Indeed, Oaknoll is not only a wonderful retirement community for our residents it is also a wonderful place to work," commented Heiden.

The Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care designation is granted based on the confirmed presence of characteristics known as “The Pathway to Excellence Criteria.”  For an organization to earn the Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care distinction, it must successfully undergo a thorough review process that documents foundational quality initiatives in creating a positive work environment — as defined by nurses and supported by research. These initiatives must be present in the facility’s practices, policies, and culture. Nurses in the organization verify the presence of the criteria in the organization through participation in a completely confidential online survey.

As a Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care™ designated organization, Oaknoll Retirement Residence is committed to nurses, to what nurses identify as important to their practice, and to valuing nurses’ contributions in the workplace. This designation confirms to the public that nurses working at Oaknoll know their efforts are supported. The honor encourages other nurses to join their colleagues in this desirable and nurturing environment.

The Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care™ designation is perfectly suited to small and medium-sized long term care organizations, and is attainable by healthcare facilities around the world. 

Oaknoll Retirement Residence is a member of Leading Age Iowa, a statewide association for nursing homes and senior housing communities.  Leading Age Iowa members are dedicated to promoting excellence and innovation in older adult services. 

Oaknoll Retirement Residents has been an active LifeCare retirement community since 1966 and is one of only seven LifeCare communities in the state. 

About ANCC:

The American Nurses Credentialing Center (ANCC), a subsidiary of the American Nurses Association (ANA), provides individuals and organizations throughout the nursing profession with the resources they need to achieve practice excellence. ANCC's internationally renowned credentialing programs certify nurses in specialty practice areas; recognize healthcare organizations for promoting safe, positive work environments through the Pathway to Excellence in Long Term Care™ and Pathway to Excellence® programs; and accredit providers of continuing nursing education. In addition, ANCC provides leading-edge information and education services and products to support its core credentialing programs. www.nursecredentialing.org

Oaknoll

by Dorothy Vestal

From here and afar we come,
apprehensively,
Moving into this "refuge for
the elderly"- this last earthly address.

Oaknoll living is beyond
their ken.
A refuge for the elderly- Yes,
But what elderly! What a refuge!

Oaknoll Computer Class Review

A photo essay by Oaknoll resident Bob Heffernen

Throughout last fall and winter, several Oaknoll residents completed basic computer, internet and email classes. Last month, some of the graduates of the class gathered in the recreation room for a reunion/review. Below are some images from the classes and the review session, captured by computer basics graduate, Bob Heffernen.

Coming Spring

by Loren N. Horton

Today it seems
That spring is here
With all the joy it brings
Delight in watching
Rebirth of leaves
And new carpet of grass

Warmer winds
Sigh across the earth
The sun shines stronger
Grey remnants of snow
Melt in shaded areas
First daffodils
Show their green points

All outdoors
Becomes the canvas
For nature's art

Income Tax Time Again

by Willa Jones

Working on it,
Till my eyes wore out
And my tail bone, too.
I don't organize as well
as I used to do.

It seems as though
The powers that be
Could give us an age limit.
I suggest, eighty three.

That many years
Should be long enough
To wrestle with forms
And all that tax stuff.

If we all had incomes
Of a million or two,
Lawyers could find loopholes
For us to jump through.

But we, the aging Middle Class,
Carefully keep all "Important Tax
Information Mail."
For fear of missing something
And be threatened with jail.

Or at least an audit
Yuck, it's income tax time.

December Weather

by Loren Horton

Snowfall glitters
Starlight glimmers
Points of brilliant light
Shimmer on the glaze
Of ice-bound streams

Stillness hovers
Hushing the fluttering flakes
To mute repose
Across the sheeted earth

Calm enfolds the scene
As branch and twig and bush
Keep silence
In the light and in the dark
While snowflakes fall

Honor Flights

Oaknoll residents Bob Laudie, Bill Byington and George Dane had the opportunity to go on an Honor Flight to Washington D.C. Eastern Iowa Honor Flight is a non-profit organization dedicated to sending veterans to our nations capital, where they can visit historical sights and war memorials.


Bob, Bill, and George are veterans of World War II. We thank them, and all veterans, for their service and sacrifice.


For photos of their trips, please visit the Oaknoll Facebook page at www.facebook.com/oaknoll on Veterans Day, November 11, 2011.


We hope you enjoy this short video of Bob Laudie filmed during his Honor Flight on October 18, 2011.

Oaknoll Nurse Shirley Cox Wins Award

Congratulations to Oaknoll nurse Shirley Cox, who was recently awarded the University of Iowa College of Nursing/John A. Hartford Center for Geriatric Nursing Excellence Long-Term Care Nursing Leadership Award for her career in long-term care and her mentoring of nursing students!
Check out the video for highlights from the event.

The Tale of the Oaknoll Oak

by Willa Jones

A resident saw it
Out there in the Oak.
A dark mass of something,
Was it a joke?

She called in her neighbor
To look in the oak.
What is that big blob?
Or is it a joke?

"No," said her neighbor.
"That's no joke in your oak.
I think it's a turkey
Asleep on that limb,
It may be about time
To awaken him."

From under a bush
Came a hen turkey then
With chattering poults
Numbered One to Ten
One scratched here,
Six over there,
Five and Eight argued
They wouldn't share.

The blob shook awake
And looked down from the limb,
That racket on the ground
Was bothering him.

"What's going on?" he called from the oak.
"Come down here and help," yelled his wife.
"These kids are no joke."

Big wings flopped him down.
He'd straighten them out.
With face red, feet stomping,
He began to shout.

The poults didn't listen
They were scratching around
All over the place.
Three and Ten had a race
To get the same bug.

One and Two over there
Found a big slug.

They were having such fun
In their new atmosphere.
The grass was for scratching
They couldn't hear.

From the window the residents
Looked down on the drama,
While big old Dad Turkey
And old Turkey Mana,
Looked on in amazement,
As their poults One through Ten
Fed themselves joyfully and then
Ran under the bush for a quick little rest,
Mama went after, she'd done her best.

Big old Dad Turkey
Flew into the oak
To become the dark blob
He was no joke.

Oaknoll Trees

by Loren Horton

A maple tree
Stands proudly in the yard
Right next to a ginkgo tree

By late September
The maple tree sports colored leaves
Bright red, orange, yellow
The ginkgo tree is still green
And shows a reserved façade

The two tree neighbors
Present a vivid contrast----
Each in its own way
Demonstrates nature's beauty
We are glad to have variety
To ease our eyes and hearts

All too soon there will be change
And we will see naked branches
Starkly grey against winter snow

Summer's End

As summer comes to a close, here are two pieces by Claudine Harris to celebrate the season.

All Things Shimmering

     Never been to Missouri, never expect to go there. But every summer a day comes when boxes of their bounty piles into my co-op store. Missouri peaches are here! One of the embellishments of summer. Long awaited. Long dreamed of. Peaches arrive the same week Marvin's sweet corn is heaped high on the counter, its brown silks limply cascading from tight green husks, like so many dark tresses on a pillow. Corn fresh from the field. There is none better, swiftly, slightly simmered, and eaten at once.
     Summer mornings are too hot, even at dawn, to tempt a walk through the neighborhood before settling down to writing. A pair of goldfinches beyond my window cling upside down on the drying stalks of catnip and nameless weeds, pecking at the seeds of August. Blossoms of impatiens in the rock wall await silently the brief thunderstorm that may bring them relief.
     Evening is corn on the cob, glistening droplets on my window screen, and a peach.
     August is all things shimmering.

Butterflies

     At last a summer day like those in childhood, bright and clear, wind free, dry. Endless. A day to chase butterflies, made mud pies in the shade and color them with the rainbow tables in a paintbox.
     Climb a tree to near its top and sway there, holding tight, hoping to see a boat leave the dock on the lake at Vevey. Summer in 36, 37? But this is Iowa, already the end of August.
     The paintbox is long abandoned with the dolls. Trees are not climbable and no lake stretches out, lazy, to distant blue-gray slopes. Butterflies only seldom flitter by the window.

Iowa Rhapsody

by Loren Horton

Summer heat
Punctuated by flashes
             of lightening
To a background continuo
             of bass thunder
Leavened by the heaviness
             of humid air
So fitting a stage setting
For picnics, fireworks
Small town festivals
When communities unite
In a social family reunion

The leaves thick on sturdy branches
The grass burned with brown patches
And the native wildflowers
Overwhelmed with yellow
Interrupted by occasional bluish-purple
Rivers and creeks
Flow sluggishly by grassy banks
Lack of regular rain
Reduces the volume of water
Redecorating for turtles and frogs
And making bullhead habitat smaller
The swimming holes are challenging

When all these phenomena
Come together in this season
Summer becomes collective
A mosaic of these myriad parts
But coalesced into a visible whole
Understood by those who live in it
Mysterious and alien to strangers
Who have never known the joy
Of standing on a back porch
To watch the lightening strikes
Illuminate the dense cloudbank
To listen to the crash of thunder

The character-building nature
Of these aggregate experiences
Create a comradeship of sorts
Based on mixed common feelings
Shared by those who have known
The pleasures and the pain
Endured the physical discomforts
Been exhilarated at the sense
Of survival in face of obstacles
Understood most fully
By the band of brothers and sisters
Who have grown up in Iowa

The Dress

by Jonnifer Ellsworth

One constant feature of my "growing up" years was the annual journey from Cherokee in northwestern Iowa to my grandparent's home in Sandusky, Ohio. My mother, Mary Ellsworth (Oaknoll resident from 1991-2004), grew up in Sandusky where her father was sales manager of a major paper and boxboard manufacturing firm, Hinde and Dauch.

My grandfather was born in 1877 and grew up on Isle St. George (North Bass Island) less than thirty miles from Canada in Lake Erie. He was the youngest of six children born to Howard Hill Morton and Annie Milner Morton (pictured below).

Howard Hill Morton

Annie Milner Morton

 His oldest sibling, Alfred, was born in 1866 in Washington D.C.  His parents resided in Washington a little more than two years at the beginning of Abraham Lincoln's second term as U.S. President. Howard had been hired as a correspondent by the Cincinnati Enquirer to report on Lincoln's second term and, following the assassination, the family returned to Ohio and settled on North Bass to grow grapes for the wine industry.

The dress was a pink silk ball gown made in Washington for Annie to wear to Lincoln's second inaugural ball. In the photo below,  I am standing in the backyard  of my grandparents home in Sandusky wearing "the dress." The year is 1950 and I am six years old.

Here I am wearing "the dress."

 The photo of my mother is a studio portrait taken in Sandusky in the early 1920's. All female Morton children had their photos taken in "the dress." We were posed standing on chairs or orange crates with the dress skirt flared over them and sometimes tissue paper was used to expand the skirt bottom outward. It had a 19-inch waist and none of us could get into it much above the age of 6-8. It was donated to a Lakewood, Ohio historical society by my aunt when the last Morton grandchild was born a male.

My mother, Mary Ellsworth, in "the dress."

Ten Years Later

by Claudine Harris
(From Gilbert Street and a Half + Ten Years Later, photographs and an essay. Published by Scrivana Press, Iowa City, Iowa, available from www.Lulu.com.)

The North End- 2010

Today, it is October. I park on Gilbert Street near Mercy Hospital, where a landscaped mini-park offers a pleasant place to relax. Gilbert Street rises gently in front of me. I head north toward Brown Street. This section of street is firmly residential, a part of the Northside Historic District. I have to make a conscious effort to notice changes. Instead, what strikes me are the memories that return.

At number 418, brownish red bricks show through flaking paint. Is this deliberate, or a home in the process or being cleaned up? No way to tell. I look for a wreath of bare twigs I remember was in a doorway, and find it. The outdoor wooden stairs to an upper apartment, where once I had a chat with a young woman sitting on the top step, still exist. Narrow porches shelter the clutter of crumpled half-empty charcoal bags, old shoes, bikes, empty bottles and cans, and canvas chairs. On one of these a young man sits today in the late afternoon sun, engrossed in his reading. People pass me on the sidewalk with small children or dogs.

I have reached the northern end of Gilbert Street. These last blocks slope enough that, on two winters, I was able to ski down the middle of the street on a Sunday, when street cleaners had been slow to come around with a plow.

Downtown on the move

Although much in unchanged in this part of town, some of the photos taken earlier could not be taken today. The tornado of 2006 did eliminate a favorite board fence, crush roofs and walls, leaving some land still vacant, while other buildings were soon repaired. The bus station that stood on the corner of College Street has been relocated closer to the center of downtown. A restaurant changed name several times, and is now gone. A 14-story building has sprung up and dominates the skyline above the pedestrian mall. South from the center, some businesses have other owners, new apartments have been built. An art gallery and an antiques shop are gone, an Asian grocery changed hands. This is the shifting fabric of the city.

On the whole, the atmosphere I imbibed in years past survives. Rallston Creek still flows deep in its channel, mostly unnoticed by anyone, except pedestrians like me who lean over the bridge abutment and enjoy gazing at the normally meager flow of water held back by riprap rocks. Under the concrete bridge, a home of sorts shelters sundry belongings and a camp cot and chair. It is vacant just now as, seeking the reflections of weeds and scrub growth, my eyes intrude into its darkness and damp cold.

Promise of the street

I leave the long street behind to return home across the river, but the street remains with me. I am of it and it is part of me. After living in its vicinity over forty years, I feel and own its presence. This is why I return. The street lives on as I have. Both of us changed and the same.

This is a city of some 70,000. An insect among the planet's giants that boast inhabitants in the millions. Yet, to the lone wanderer on foot- lone, but never lonesome- urban space is measured on a human scale. I am not the first to say so. Jane Jacobs celebrated the flâneur on city sidewalks. What I encompass in the moment is what I perceive. Passerby, vehicles. My pauses are frequent, dictated by whimsy rather than the demands of traffic. What can be seen and heard and surmised in the immediate surroundings, what I am personally aware of, is the extent of it. The texture of nearby walls, cloud formations above rooftops, café tables set up on the sidewalk. Twisted bikes abandoned where they fell, ragged posters stapled to wooden posts. But also budding leaves on springtime limbs, and always people. People. What are they thinking, where are they going? Do I care? Does it matter?

A walk on the city street is a promise to be fulfilled. On the sidewalks of the Northside of Iowa City, I think of myself as part of the atmosphere, likely totally ignored. Mobiles held to an ear, people are absorbed in their own thoughts and concerns. I may be invisible to them, but mine is the urban privacy Jane Jacobs wrote about. There is a kinship of sorts among us, even if unacknowledged.

In front of John's Grocery, I wait to see who walks out. If someone's flowing hair catches the afternoon sunlight, I will quickly attempt to take a picture, but a photographer misses a lot of shots! No matter. I will be back to renew in my memory the many views of Gilbert Street.

I know the street as a solid river. Bricks at the north end of town convert to concrete and black top for the remainder of the distance. To me, the unevenness and the coloration of the bricks add warmth to the cityscape. Rainy days accentuate the paving patterns.

Even after the brief interval of a decade, I am aware of the resilience of urban settings. Cities are built, grow, decay, disappear, to be reborn in new forms at new times, in repeated cycles. The city, as an outcropping on this small crumb of a small planet. The street, as a river of stone and wood and humanity, flowing through time.

I know I will return on foot many times to a street where, in Jacobs' words, the walker experiences the city as a theater in which to be both actor and audience. There is a thereness there. It is in the city's bones.