January 12, 2021
The units are empty. The rooms are clean, awaiting their next guests (they just won’t be our residents). The nursing stations are deserted. The charts are gone. No call bells ringing. No pills to be distributed. No staff.
But your staff, Mr. Morris, were not just staff. They were amazing and compassionate human beings who often had complicated lives, yet who came to work each day with smiles and vows and goals. They administered to their charges with care and commitment. They worked hard, whether cleaning a room or preparing a meal or holding a hand or listening. Each day was a new adventure. Even before Covid, they put themselves second to those who needed them. They helped the weak get stronger, the frightened find comfort, and the hungry get sustenance. They celebrated triumphs and consoled those in despair. They gave so much of themselves each day, only to recharge their own batteries and start again tomorrow.
So, Charles Morris, don’t be sad. This chapter as we know it is over. But it was an amazing run. For over 100 years, you watched countless social workers, and healthcare clinicians, and administrators, and maintenance men toil for those beloved seniors who came looking for strength and a cure. And even if your staff did not succeed, they did their utmost to provide quality of life and loving attention until the very end.
We hope that you and our founder, Rabbi Ashinsky, and the many community leaders, past and present, who helped chart the way for this historic institution feel validated for your incredible foresight and acumen. We trust that when you assess the success of your dreams, you will feel a touch of nostalgia as we do. Even more so, you will feel an overwhelming sense of pride in all that we collectively accomplished over the decades.
As we move to the next chapter, in whatever direction it takes us, may we never forget that, thanks to you Charles Morris, we all made a difference.