Dickie Boy

About the Book

The first day at the Spokane Office of Public Assistance featured the standard routine: “These are our administrative personnel; this is Mr. Olson, who will be your supervisor while you are with us; this is our cafeteria; the men’s room is over here; the supply room is over there; when you leave the office for field work you enter that information on the bulletin board by the telephone booth; and this will be your desk . . .” At my first conference with Paul (Mr. Olson), we went over a preliminary review of the cases they’d selected to assign to me. They had attempted to give me as good a cross section of the office’s cases as they could, although it was a highly reduced load, given the intent that it would be a highly supervised and intense process. I immediately noticed that there were no very elderly in my assignments. I asked Paul if he would assign me at least one case of a very elderly couple whose life circumstances were severe enough to require a maximum effort on my part. He came through—and then some. I chose the elderly couple to be my first interview as a new social worker in the Spokane office. There wasn’t much to be gleaned from the case folder since it was a brand-new case. I’ll alter their names hereafter though there are probably only a few grandchildren alive today. At about the turn of the century, Bill and Ella had settled on a one-hundred-plus-acre farm east of Spokane, not far from the Idaho border. Bill was ninety-two, deaf and essentially bedridden; Ella was eighty-nine and able to move about only with the help of a walker. The drive down the lane to their ranch house was a moment that I shall never forget. Their garage was set back from the house on the west side. Only one half of the front of the garage remained; and it hung at an angle, supported by brush. Getting to the front door was a chore by itself. The front porch was little more than an outline of boards held in space by a huge mass of ivy vines that had grown over their roof. The front steps leaned down from the house at a rakish angle. Luckily, I found one that didn’t collapse until I could get to the front door.

About the Author

My main employment and professions have been service station and machine shop owner, logger, civil service employee, social worker/supervisor and college professor. My professional affiliations have been Academy of Certified Social Workers, amateur radio (KC7LEK), Torch Club member (high school), volunteer fire department, American Legion commander, school board member, president of Chamber of Commerce, and charter director of Lions Club. My hobbies are fishing, hunting, building high performance auto engines, jazz piano on my electric Roland piano and gardening (flowers).