The first day at the Spokane Office of Public Assistance featured the standard routine: "These are our administrative personnel; this is Mr. Olson, who will be your supervisor while you are with us; this is our cafeteria; the men's room is over here; the supply room is over there; when you leave the office for field work you enter that information on the bulletin board by the telephone booth; and this will be your desk . . ." At my first conference with Paul (Mr. Olson), we went over a preliminary review of the cases they'd selected to assign to me. They had attempted to give me as good a cross section of the office's cases as they could, although it was a highly reduced load, given the intent that it would be a highly supervised and intense process. I immediately noticed that there were no very elderly in my assignments. I asked Paul if he would assign me at least one case of a very elderly couple whose life circumstances were severe enough to require a maximum effort on my part. He came through-and then some. I chose the elderly couple to be my first interview as a new social worker in the Spokane office. There wasn't much to be gleaned from the case folder since it was a brand-new case. I'll alter their names hereafter though there are probably only a few grandchildren alive today. At about the turn of the century, Bill and Ella had settled on a one-hundred-plus-acre farm east of Spokane, not far from the Idaho border. Bill was ninety-two, deaf and essentially bedridden; Ella was eighty-nine and able to move about only with the help of a walker. The drive down the lane to their ranch house was a moment that I shall never forget. Their garage was set back from the house on the westside. Only one half of the front of the garage remained; and it hung at an angle, supported by brush. Getting to the front door was a chore by itself. The front porch was little more than an outline of boards held in space by a huge mass of ivy vines that had grown over their roof. The front steps leaned down from the house at a rakish angle. Luckily, I found one that didn't collapse until I could get to the front door.
