Beth and I had visited my father, and were standing at the elevator holding hands. this woman sat at her post nearby. she hadn't said anything when we were at the desk, but as we stood there she says, oh what a lovely couple. she's smiling sweetly, your dream grandmother. she says to Beth, are you married? yes. do you love him? yes. does he love you? yes. oh that's so lovely. earlier I noticed her talking to a nurse. not crabby or abusive at all. a stunning change in demeanor. when my father was in the common room (he's getting better slowly but jeez is he tired), 2 women sat together at a table. my father lunched with them once when we were there. one woman appears blind, very discouraged and unhappy. she roared out during that lunch, this food SUCKS. the other woman is nervous but engaged. she encouraged the other woman and my father to eat. she tucked in pretty well herself, tho with a lot of nervous movements. yesterday, as I already said, she sat with the blind woman. she spent the time tapping the table with one hand and doing a wiping motion with the other. at one point, she reached her hands out to the blind woman and said firmly, give me your hands, give me your hands. reaching out, putting a touch of the world to the blind woman. another woman roamed around in a wheelchair. she held an infant doll to her breast and a children's Christmas book sat next to her. I think of that missionary we encountered the other evening. what he had to give, tho couched in religion, was mere political resolution. what is religion anyway but cultural stricture. it's the city's relief, not mine or yours. one day that woman is spouting religious crunch, and I mean crunch as in an insect's carapace, underfoot. another day, she sees a spiritual light. I mean, isn't that the difference in the 2 encounters? all these needy, needy people, what does religion do for them? it gives them hardened, emptied words to project, projectile in indifference. empty words abound, thus touch is so important.