Written by a Broadmead Resident
My life changed dramatically when I moved to Broadmead. The first thing I noticed was that each time I drove into the Broadmead entrance, I’d start singing - out loud - “Brigadoon, Bri-ga-doooon” because I felt like I was entering an alternative universe of sacred space and holy ground.
The bucolic landscape, the white clouds against the blue sky - the flowers, the birds and the frogs. Peace and quiet permeate the atmosphere. It’s like being on a retreat.
For about a month after I moved in, every morning I’d crank open the kitchen casement windows and I’d hear in my head Julie Andrews singing “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” I think it must have been the Tyrolian landscape - the tall trees on the hill looked like mountains to me.
I was already overwhelmed by awe and gratitude before I’d even met other residents, but I was not prepared for the Broadmead hospitality - a flood of invitations to dinner from strangers who wanted me to meet other members of the Broadmead family. And that’s how I felt - that I was instantly a member of the family, and that includes all the members of all the different staffs, in all their many capacities. I feel a sense of support that I never felt before.
I still have that kid-in-a-candy-store feeling, marveling at the opportunity of interacting with so many interesting people - gifted, creative, skilled, intellectually stimulating, humble, helpful and inspiring - all friends in the making. I have to resist the urge to hug them all - especially Maintenance. (That could prove embarrassing.)
For me each resident is like a reference book on the human condition in different degrees of decline - those who still stand straight up at a 180 degree angle, all the way down to those who humbly bow their head to the earth at 90 degrees. Each person serves as a mentor to me. My Broadmead sisters and brothers show me how to live and how to die, how to hold on, and how to let go. What more could I ask for?