Phyllis Gill

I have so many memories of Franke Tobey Jones.  Here are a few:

Board Member:  In the late 1980’s I was invited to join the Board of Directors of FTJ.  As a community volunteer I had no experience in the retirement business, but a current board member told me that my past non-profit work would be valuable and she felt sure I would enjoy it. She was right! I fell in love with the place, its residents, its history, all of it.  At some point I discovered there were no Board terms. You just stayed on the Board until you left, whatever that meant!  We were a hard-working group of volunteers who really cared about our residents and the institution, with its long history.       

Around 1988, I was President of the Board and I was not alone in thinking that it was time to grow up and act like a real board. Some of us had been there long enough.  I was ready to move on. We joked that we’d be residents before long, but the Board needed a supply of new thinkers. We talked about how best to manage the change, and all agreed that the current members would draw straws for one, two, and three year terms. I was hoping for a one-year term, but as luck would have it, I drew the three year term!!!

Now, as a resident preparing to celebrate our Centennial, I look back on those years with gratitude. The friendships formed, the fun times and the trying times, the foundations laid…these are all memories that warm my heart.

My Mother:  It was 1977. My mother, Estelle Ridge Anderson, was a patient in the old Health Care Center.  She had been living at another retirement home where she had fallen and was sent to the hospital, and from there to a rehab facility. When she was ready to be released, I had her moved to Franke Tobey Jones, where I served on the Board and knew she would receive good care. 

Mom’s memory loss was beginning to create frustrations for her. She was confused about where she was and why she was here. She frequently asked me when she was going home.  My usual answer was “Pretty soon, Mom,” or “When you’re feeling better.”  After a time, I realized that wasn’t working, so one day I told her that this was her home now and I pointed out the familiar items we had moved to her room. This was not good news, but she gradually adapted and soon she began treating not only her room but all spaces as hers.

She found the piano in the Activity Terrace and would sit down and start to play whenever she felt like it, regardless of whether there might be something else going on there. She also advised that the piano needed tuning.  She didn’t like eating in the dining room because there were people she didn’t know eating there.  Just outside her room was a small gathering space for watching TV or visiting. She considered this her personal living room. In the evening, she would go there to watch “her ” shows. When she decided it was time for bed, she just turned off not only the TV, but the lamps as well. She would say goodnight to others and advise them that it was bedtime. Mom died peacefully in her room in 1998. She was 87.

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