Long story, but I’ll try to keep it short. Ya, right.

When we lived in Gillette, WY I worked at Pioneer Manor. One morning the nursing supervisor called me to her office to tell me we had a new man coming in from Casper. He was going to be mine to rehabilitate. He had had a stroke and was wheelchair-bound and I was to get him on his feet.

The delivery van pulled up and we went out to get him. He came out of the car and it was love at first sight. Here was this old man with a big toothless grin from ear to ear. His full head of hair was pure white and styled. The first words out of my mouth were, "Don’t ever let anyone cut that hair!" He laughed a silent laugh and when we were introduced he spoke in a whisper.

George Formiller was his name. He had come to Wyoming 28 years earlier from Chicago following the death of his 10-year old son. His wife had also passed away and he was all alone. My job was to get him walking again and he did walk, but he was a wobbly walker. The first time he started walking alone I did a "boogie dance" at him and scared him big time. He almost fell! I never did that again.

I loved him and he loved me. In fact, my whole family loved him. He came to our house for special occasion dinners and we exchanged gifts at Christmas time. He wanted to go home to die. Big mouth me, I said I would see that he did. He took me up on it. I was thinking putting him on a plane. He had other ideas unbeknownst to me.

We called Chicago information and found the phone number for one of his brothers. We would call them once in awhile to talk about George coming home. Then I said the word "plane". "No, no, no," he whisper-shouted. I would TAKE him! Now what do I do??? Well, I took him.

First we took a trip downtown Gillette to the finest men’s store in town and got him all decked out with a new suit, shirt, tie, t-shirt, shorts and socks. Oh yes, and a new hat! He wanted something "nice enough to be buried in." He went "home" in style. I wonder if they sent his hat with him …

George had a little incontinence problem so as we’re flying down the highway I kept asking if he needed to stop. As we got closer to Chicago he refused to stop anyway. He would flap his hands and me and tell me to keep going. When we got close to Chicago he started looking for the highway that went "right past our house." I couldn’t  get him to understand that it had been almost 30 years and things change.

Out there somewhere I saw a patrolman parked along the highway so I stopped to get directions from him. As I talked, in exasperation, George said to my mother-in-law, "Look at her … she’s standing out there visiting him and I’m pissing my pants." Ha. It took some doing, but we finally found his house (that did not sit "out there all by itself on the outskirts of Chicago") it was completely surrounded by homes and business just as I knew it would be.

As I walked him up the 12-15 steps to the front door an old man and old woman stood and watched us approach. No one spoke a word and I wondered if I had made a serious mistake. When we got to the top of the stairs the old man looked at George and George looked at him, still nothing. Finally, the old man asked, "George?" and George asked "Frank?" Or whatever his name was. Then they just laughed and hugged and I knew I had done the right thing.