Sometimes having a friend by your side is all you need to get started on a challenge. Brandon came to Progress a little over a year ago through the Employment and Community First Choices program. He is a happy, determined young man, and had definitive goals from the beginning, including meeting new people and establishing friendships, both of which can be challenging for almost anyone. Making new connections and forming bonds require consistency in addition to locale – where do most of us make new friends or meet new people? Popular answers might include common interest groups, acquaintances or networking events, and for many of us, a common place to build new relationships is at the workplace.

Rodney began supporting Brandon right away on his goals. “Brandon is sort of shy at first, but once you get to know him, he has an infectious personality,” Rodney shared. The two started brainstorming possible jobs or volunteer opportunities that both appealed to Brandon’s interests and also provided opportunities for meeting new people. Brandon loved working with elderly people, so they explored volunteering at a Senior Center.

Brandon’s desire to work with older adults wasn’t without reason. He was extremely close with his grandmother, who tragically passed away around the time Brandon came to Progress. “I really enjoyed helping my Grandma out at home. We would plant flowers, go grocery shopping, put groceries away.” Brandon’s grandmother taught him how to knit and crochet, and he would often spend the night at her house. The two shared a special bond, and when she passed away there was a void in his life.

It goes without saying that Rodney came into Brandon’s life at the right time. “He’s nice and kind and lovable,” Brandon describes Rodney with a smile. “We like the same things – same foods even.”

As they searched for opportunities for Brandon, the two would often have lunch at a Penn Station Sub shop. Rodney noticed a young man working who gave out free cookies to patrons on Tuesdays.  He asked the manager if there were any openings for a similar position, as it could be a great job for Brandon. Much to their surprise, the manager explained that Penn Station offers an employment program specifically for people with disabilities, and after a few phone calls, they found an open position for Brandon.

Brandon began at Penn Station right away, and has enjoyed every minute of the job. He works there two days a week, and helps with all sorts of duties including organizing bread shelves, cleaning windows, busing tables, and many other tasks. Patrick, the Penn Station manager, speaks very highly of Brandon. “It has been a real pleasure working with Brandon. He gives more effort and goes the extra mile more than anyone. He does a great job interacting with guests. He has a great attitude and is amazing with the team. He fits right in and everyone loves working with him,” Patrick continued, “One negative person can bring down a team. Brandon is the exact opposite - he walks in and is always smiling, and it carries over to everyone working here.”

In addition to his job at Penn Station, Brandon continues to explore other interests. He regularly volunteers at SmART! Supplies, Progress’ social enterprise that sells gently used arts and crafts materials while employing people with disabilities.

“I love Smart, I’m very crafty.” Brandon shared. At Smart, he works on making gift tags out of holiday cards, and organizing the store and fabrics.

“Brandon is very good at organizing; Smart is a great fit for him.” Rodney added.

Because Brandon enjoys crafts, volunteering at Smart appeals directly to his interests and passions.  Brandon has made all sorts of crochet and knit items, thanks to his Grandmother’s lessons. He made Christmas washcloths, and is currently working on a baby blanket for a cousin. Rodney and Brandon often pick up books about knitting and crocheting for new project ideas.

Through all of this hard work, Brandon is striving to achieve his ultimate goal – independence.  He currently lives with his parents and sister, and although he loves his family, he would like to live on his own one day.

Rodney believes Brandon will get there, and sees unlimited potential and strengths. “Brandon is a hard worker. It’s clear to everyone around him that he wants to accomplish things and make a difference. He’s caring and funny and is always looking out for others.”

Brandon shared that having Rodney by his side has “made my life very happy. It was happy already, but Rodney made it even more happy.”

When he’s not working towards his goals, Brandon enjoys listening to country music, playing games, rooting for the Predators, spending time with his Boston Terriers Anthony & Roxie, and being with his family. 

Brandon and Rodney will continue to navigate working and striving towards independence. Rodney shared that “Brandon has made me appreciate the little things more. He gets a charge out of life’s simplicity, and it’s helped me to take time and smell the roses.” Brandon has a bright future ahead of him, and with Rodney’s support, his goal of independence may not be too far off in the distance. No matter how they get there, Brandon and Rodney will be sure to enjoy the road along the way.

“That horse just knew she was special.”

It’s a rainy February night in Nashville and we are poring over photographs spread across the kitchen table. Jannette points to two photos of Vicky standing at a fence. In one, a beautiful brown horse nuzzles her neck, and in the other, Vicky’s arm lovingly extends as she pets the animal. Her smile in the photo is innocent, pure and full of goodness. Jannette has been Vicky’s companion for more than ten years, and from time to time they’d travel to Jannette’s hometown of Waynesboro, TN. It was on this particular trip that a neighboring horse was unusually gentle and calm upon meeting Vicky.

“He came right up and pressed his face against hers, I’d never seen him do that before,” Jannette explained. Vicky and the horse shared a moment and the horse lingered, wanting to stay close to Vicky. Jannette couldn’t get a photo in time of the horse pressing his face right to Vicky’s, but she is adamant about how special it was.

She shares other photos from that trip: fishing, time outdoors, as well as the many others from their more than ten years together. “Hat Day” was a favorite annual occasion. The two would make a whole day of going to different stores, trying on hats and taking pictures. “You have to make your own fun,” she chuckled, “And we had a lot of it.”

It’s hard not to feel a mix of emotions as we go over photographs. The photos tell a beautiful, vibrant story of life, of friendship. But they are just that – stories and memories from the past, from a different era.

Vicky was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease shortly before Jannette began to support her. There were slight declines over their decade together, but the major declines occurred within the last two years. Today Vicky does not speak, and spends most of her time in her room in a hospital bed. Hospice is now involved in her care.

I asked Jannette if Vicky communicated in the past.

“This girl talked from the time she woke up, ‘till the time she went to sleep. She’d talk in the bathroom, she’d talk all day. I’d ask her, ‘Vicky, who are you talking to?’ and she’d say ‘myself.’” Jannette laughed as she recalled the time another staff member filled in one night when she wasn’t there. “We always watched family friendly shows. Well, I came back the next day, and Vicky was going on about this dream she had.” As the day went on, the story grew. Jannette began to suspect Vicky may have been watching a crime show the night before. “She dreamt she was in a motel…and there was a guy with a gun who shot someone. Well, she got the gun and put it in a dumpster!” The dream grew all day and by nighttime Vicky was still talking about it. “Someone was murdered and she saw it,” Jannette was sure Vicky had never had a dream like this before, but the excitement of solving the mystery in her dream occupied the entire day.

There were other funny stories too. Vicky often called Jannette “Stacy” as a part of the dementia. “She called me Stacy so much, I told her I’m going to change my name to Stacy.” Jannette paused, “Right now I’d give anything to hear her yell ‘Stacy!’ from her room.”

Jannette’s road to becoming a companion was not an obvious path. Like many others in this field, a series of life events led her to Progress. Years before, Jannette’s son Willie passed away from cancer, and she cared for him throughout his illness. Though the experience was a tragedy, it provided her with a unique perspective that would later be applicable in her role with Progress.

At the time Jannette came to Progress, it was 2008 and she worked at a factory that made housing materials. As the recession began to unfold, her hours were reduced, and she began to search for a new opportunity. Her former sister in-law was a Progress employee, and knowing Jannette’s history and heart, suggested she become a companion.

During their first year together, Jannette and Vicky formed a close bond. “We had a ball, we got to do everything. We went shopping, went to the waterpark, movies, whatever we wanted to do, we did it.” As the years passed, another roommate joined Vicky, but their bond remained close.

Vicky’s sister Pat is also very involved in her life, and explained some of the things that make her so special. “Vicky was a sweet child. She didn’t have the chance to experience all the things you and I might experience, but she never complained about anything.”  At the time Vicky was born, children with disabilities were not given an education, and Pat wondered how different Vicky’s life might have been had she been in school. Vicky was especially close to her mother, but now Pat is the only remaining family in Vicky’s life. Pat is incredibly grateful for what Jannette has done. “Jannette has meant the world to Vicky, I don’t know what we would have done without her.” Pat credits Jannette as being like a mother to Vicky, and explained with certainty, “I truly believe that God sent Jannette to us.”

As the evening goes on, Jannette shares more stories, and we go over more pictures. There are pictures from a trip to Chattanooga. Pictures of gardening. Pictures on a river boat. Pictures from Prom. Pictures with Santa. Pictures playing puzzles. And those dear pictures of trying on hats.

“A lot of people with dementia get angry or violent as the disease progresses. But with each decline, she’s still sweet. If you could see her in the mornings when she first wakes up, I’ll look at her and she smiles at me, that sweet, innocent smile.” Jannette reflects even more, “I get glimpses of her still. There are times when she knows you, and you know her… and it’s her spirit that’s actually there.”

I asked Jannette how difficult the last few years have been. “I really love Vicky. It’s hard to watch. But I can’t imagine not being here. I know if I’m here, she’ll be taken care of until the end. Not that it’s not going to hurt.”

Jannette and I flip through the albums one last time. “Reflecting over the good times we’ve had helps to make this time easier,” she explained. I asked if there was anything else she wanted to share about Vicky and she simply said, “Being with Vicky has made me a better person.”

In the moments and memories scattered in photographs on the table, a narrative so sweet and gentle and joy-filled can be felt without the need for words or explanation. Even though Vicky can no longer speak, the pictures say a hundred thousand beautiful words.


Lily Wojcik, PR/Events Manager Progress

I think most of us experience moments that make a deep impact on the course of their lives. I’ve had several. I'm not talking about dramatic events, like the loss of a loved one or sudden financial windfall, but a moment…a particular interaction…that answered a question I hadn’t known how to ask.  A moment which to someone else would’ve passed unnoticed but to me was life changing.

I grew up in a smallish Southern Indiana city, in a medium sized house.  It sometimes felt smaller, being home to our six person family.  A fairly typical 1960's build, the upstairs was primarily for the business of life...eating, sleeping, getting ready to go out in the world, doing homework, reading quietly. The downstairs was for the more relaxed side of life...hanging out, watching tv, playing cards, playing pool, having slumber parties.

The hallway upstairs connects bedrooms and bath to kitchen, living and dining rooms.  In this space, I made some decisions about my life.  I'm not sure exactly why, but maybe because this space is a kind of portal.  Only big enough to scoot by another person and have an isolated interaction or have a few quiet moments to think before heading out into the family fray.

One especially significant hallway memory had to do with getting the right message from my mom at the exact right time.
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I've always been creative.  I don't remember a time when I wasn't thinking about how to make something.  By the time I was 10, I would save my allowance and wander the craft kit aisles at Ayr-Way (predecessor to Target).  I needed to have paper and pencils and markers and yarn and more complicated things like printmaking tools and oil paints.  My mom taught me to sew in the 5th grade, so fabric became a big deal too.  My dad was always properly impressed throughout my purse making phase...which I think lasted about 2 years.  I kept diaries off and on and wrote poems sometimes.  I felt very artistic and fun.

By early adolescence I also had the growing suspicion (and discomfort) of being a little different.  Nothing spectacular I could really put my finger on, but the sense my siblings fit in a little better in the world...did things and were interested in things that seemed a little more normal.  I wasn't agonizing over it, but I was thinking about whether I needed to be less artist, more normal.  One ordinary day, my mom stopped me in the hall and said "honey, of all my children, you are the most different and I really love that about you."  Those, of course, may not be the precise words, but it's what I remember.  I was given in that moment permission and validation to be myself.
                                                       ____________________________________
 
My mom knew how I “worked,” my strengths and weaknesses, how I interacted in the world. She knew how an eleven or twelve year old was likely to feel a little different and might make some weird decisions as a result.  She knew how to support and reassure me so I could discover the happiest me. (My dad was great at this too, but this transformational moment in the hallway belonged to me and my mom.) It’s a legacy for parenting, being a friend, or any ongoing relationship of human caring.
 
We do the work we do in this spirit. We support and reassure people to find their own happiest me. Every interaction may not be transformational, but every interaction teaches us where people are in their lives and how they interact in the world. We validate strengths. We celebrate differences. We support a growing sense of self confidence which leads to greater independence.  Maybe it looks like getting a job.  Maybe it looks like having a girlfriend or boyfriend.  Maybe it looks like planning a menu and making dinner.  Maybe it looks like dancing or joining a gym. Maybe it looks very independent or maybe it looks like having a support person or other friend close by to help.
 
We hope it always looks like each person’s difference makes them worthy of being honored and respected; complete validation of the happiest me.


Donna Goodaker, Executive Director, Progress

Lily Wojcik, PR/Events Manager Progress
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​When Monisha talks about Billy and Robert, it’s clear she knows just about everything about them. She knows their idiosyncrasies, their strengths and their quirks. She knows who will usually offer a traffic report in the morning, and she knows who’s keeping tabs on the latest sports teams. She knows their histories and families, their work history, but most importantly she knows them.

“They’re like my brothers,” she explained one evening. What started out as a typical companion/roommate setup grew into a beautiful friendship, full of nurture and support from all parties. “They give me so much joy and have helped me through difficult times, in the same way I try to help them.”

Companions are the lifeblood of what Progress does. The people supported through Progress rely on companions to help them live as independently as possible. Companions cook meals, provide transportation to appointments, manage household maintenance, ensure the safety of each resident, and complete many other countless tasks on a daily basis. What is arguably most inspirational however, is the support system companions provide through life’s ups and downs. Companions are there every single day. On good days households may be bursting with laughter, and on other days, companions may be consoling their residents through difficult experiences or helping them navigate challenging behaviors. What is often unexpected though, is the ability for companions to feel that same familial support returned to them from the people they’re caring for.

Monisha was the first to acknowledge that she and the guys have had a rough year. Their house has had its share of difficult times recently. Earlier in the year Monisha’s sister passed away, Billy’s sister passed away unexpectedly, then Monisha’s mother became sick, and her son was diagnosed with a disability.
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One day Billy caught Monisha crying, and told her everything would be alright. “They’ll come in and tell jokes,” Monisha explained with a smile.

 “Laughing is better than crying.” Billy chimed in.

“When my son was diagnosed with a disability, at first I cried because I didn’t know how to handle it. These guys were a huge support for me, though.” Monisha’s son and husband live close by, and they visit the house regularly. Billy and Robert have an especially close relationship with Monisha’s son. “Robert is like a big brother and makes sure my son’s homework gets done. Billy likes to teach my son about the bible, as he’s attending a Christian academy. They’ll watch tv together.” The support Monisha received from Billy and Robert was a surprise that she never expected from the people she was responsible for caring for.

“I look at it as a big family.” Billy added.

“I take pride in what I do. A lot of people see it as a job. It is my life.” Monisha added that caring for her autistic brother while growing up played a big factor in her desire to help others today.

Like many companion homes, theirs operates like a well-oiled machine, with everyone playing a part in the day-to-day household responsibilities. Monisha explained that both of the guys assist with lots of things. Billy dusts, Robert does laundry. When Monisha takes the garbage out, Billy has often changed the bag before she’s back inside. Over the last year the guys have become even more independent & take extra pride in their home.

​“We are like a family. We cook together and eat together. I cook for them, and do for them like I do at home. My husband cooks for them too, he loves them. If I’ve been out of town for a few days, I’m so happy to be back and I’ll say, ‘Honeys I’m home!’ and hug them.”

Billy and Robert agreed that Monisha is a “good lady, a good cook, a good mother, and a great person to talk to.”

“We’ve been through it all, but these guys keep me strong.” 

The friendship that Monisha, Billy and Robert share is a powerful example of the types of relationships that can develop between companions and individuals. The bonds that form are often able to elevate all parties during life’s challenges. Monisha, Billy and Robert serve as an example of the fact that meaningful connections sometimes grow in unexpected places, and that support is never a one-way street.