Despite Invitation, No Visits

REVERE--Despite the bright green sign above the door, inviting people to "Visit Us," residents at the Oak Island Skilled Nursing Home don't get many visitors.

"That sign is the biggest joke in the whole world," said Tony Branewski, a five year resident of the nursing home. "I spend all the nice days in the front yard," he added, "And nobody ever stops to talk to me."

Louis Berbaum, another resident who spends a lot of his time in the front yard, "hoping that someone will stop to talk," said that while people notice the sign, few actually come in to visit.

Oak Island is located on Revere BeachBoulevard, a 10-minute walk from the nearestsubway stop. It is a nondescript red brickbuilding lost among the bright neon lights andbars that face the beach.

According to social worker Debra Gleason, untilrecently customers from Kelly's Roast Beef, whichis directly across the street, would bring theirmeals to picnic benches right in front of thenursing home. Occasionally these diners would stayafter finishing their meals and talk to theresidents for a while.

The picnic benches were torn down a year ago,however, and now there is little to drawpassers-by into the gates of the nursing home, shesaid.

Many of the residents do not even haverelatives or friends who visit the nursing home,said Gleason. "We have patients who have been heresince the nursing home opened 20 years ago. Manyhave outlived their loved ones, but they stillneed love."

For some, the way to combat boredom andloneliness is to turn their attentions away fromthe visitors who don't come.

"I don't give out my name. I'm a gangster, andI don't want anybody to find out where I am,"whispered Dan Shavis. He'll tell the same story toanyone who will listen and his name is easy todiscover--just ask anybody else in the nursingcenter.

Some, such as Francis Price, find other thingsto care about. For Price friendship comes fromBojangles, the black and white cat who lives atthe center.

Bojangles

"It's everyone's cat, but I get to feed it,"she said, pointing at the animal sleeping in thebushes.

Others, who are healthy enough both mentallyand physically, do receive passes to leave thegrounds on their own occasionally.

As one of these, Branewski said he is allowedto spend some days across the street, sitting onthe bleachers by the ocean. "You meet some nicepeople to talk to," he said. "People whounderstand. What's the good of talking to peopleif they don't know what you are talking about?"

And after five years of solicitingconversations, Branewski has learned how to makepeople understand.

Chewing on the end of an unlit cigar, clampinghis hand tightly onto his newly found confidante'sshoulder, as if to prevent flight, he'll declare,"I'm going to tell you a story you'll neverbelieve..."

His repertoire is broad, but obviouslyunchanging.

As other residents pass by, they yell out tohim, asking if he has told the story of hisnear-ordainment and the one about his polyps yet,or if the story of his commendation from thesuperintendent of schools in sixth grade hasimpressed suitably.

Branewski is inured to the criticism of hisneighbors. He turns a deaf ear, and mutters onlythat he wishes there were more young people aroundto talk to.

He is not alone in that wish. "There are a lotof old people here. People who are too tired toobe young. We are not like that," Price said,adding that she wants to talk to people who arestill young.

The only visitors to the center are elderlymembers of the community who have the time tovolunteer, said Gleason. "Other people don't reactto our sign," she said, "Not as much as we'dlike."

But the residents have not lost hope. "We'llstay out here most days until the weather getscold," said Berbaum, "People might stop if theysee us, but if they don't see us they'll neverstop.