St. Louis City Senior Fund
The St. Louis City Senior Fund supports local organizations that focus on ensuring older adults have access to what they need, like, safe housing, economic security, and social support. The Senior Fund has been a critical resource at a time when the aging population in the City is growing but resources for older adults are not and, in some instances, they’re being cut. HOSTL got to meet older adults who received assistance in part from the Senior Fund. They’ve all had to adapt in response to situations in their lives, often with the support of family, friends, and community organizations. We hope with each individual’s story, you’re inspired to see ways you can contribute to making sure we all have what we need when we’re older.
“I was wild and ambitious, always wanting to party and never study. I didn’t get into any real trouble, but I was mischievous. Grandma kicked my butt — breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She’d tell me not to do something, but I had to find out for myself. I ended up married at age 17. We stayed together for 10 years. I was crazy and in love and my wife was persistent. My family wasn’t in such a hurry. They were constantly asking, ‘Why so fast?’ But right after my wife and I graduated high school, we jumped the broom Downtown and had a big celebration at her house. I had a good job and we were always going out partying on the weekends. It was great in the beginning, but she was spoiled and I paid for it. I caught her dating other guys. She told me she still loved me, but I used it as an excuse and started dating people too. She couldn’t take it. I disappeared to L.A. for a while to pursue a dancing career, and when I came back, we got a divorce. I ended up giving her everything — all the money, her white mink coat. Supporting her was a financial burden and I knew I could make more money having that lifted. It was then that I started trying to find myself again.”
“My family were sharecroppers in Mississippi, living on a farm and working in the fields. I told my grandad, ‘When I get older, I’m going to have a house with big trees.’ It was my dream ever since I was a little girl. I used to go from house to house watching people’s kids while the older folks worked. But then my mother got sick and I had to take care of her. I think she knew she was going to die. One night, I was combing her hair and she kept staring at me. I said, ‘What’s wrong, Mama?’ She just looked at me and said, ‘Nothing.’ I helped her get to bed and said goodnight. The next morning I walked into her room and she had already passed. She had a stroke. I fell down on the floor and started crying. It took me a while to start feeling better. And here I am at 85. I got all the time she never had.”
“If I really need something, Steve’s the person I reach out to. Every time I give him a call, he’s right there. I always tell people he’s my twin brother and the only difference between us is he’s a little taller. Our sons were about the same age when we moved into the neighborhood and they all lived one block over. After our boys started hanging out, it was just a matter of time before we met him and his wife. She passed about a year ago and I’ve been a widower for 17 years, so we’ve been good friends. But it definitely changed when I got my wheelchair. There’s a new level of vulnerability. I’ve got a good sense of humor and understand what it’s like to lose your partner, so I like to think I support him too.”
“When immigrants arrive in a new country, most struggle with everything from language to culture. For some of my clients, I am the only person they trust. Whenever they have a problem or question, they call me right away. Mai Chinh’s family has been one that has needed a great deal of support. She told me once, ‘We depend on you for everything.’ I’ve been working with her and her family since I began as a Community Access Worker at BIAS. The first time we met, they needed help with a food stamp application. I couldn’t understand what they were saying on the phone because they spoke a certain dialect of Vietnamese. So, I drove to their house. The house had no heat, AC, or hot water. I got some space heaters for them and then contacted the landlord and the utility company. After that, I started visiting them every other week and we talk on the phone a lot. When Mai Chinh calls, she asks, ‘When are you coming home?’”
“I used to watch my husband when he fixed things. He knew how to do a lot — electricity and other minor repairs. I would say, ‘I can’t do that.’ If something had to be done, I just had to ask him. After he was gone, I told myself, ‘I can’t be calling on everybody all the time.’ I’m a fast learner, so I ended up installing a sensor on my back porch and then a thermostat in my son’s room. When the folks from Mission: St. Louis came out, they asked, ‘Who put that thermostat up?’ They were impressed that I did a good job. I had the screws just right and everything. But there are always still some things I need support with. My bathroom floors corroded and it was pretty scary. So the same folks came back to put in new floors and a shower. They even installed a grab bar so I could pull myself up in there. They’re going to fix my cabinets next. They’ve done an excellent job so far. Last time, I sent every one of them a thank-you note for everything they did for me and my family.”
“Some of the houses I used to clean were for realtors and property investors so I got to see the basics of their work. After a while, I thought, ‘I can do this too,’ and bought my first property in Lafayette Square. I had daughters in private schools and one who was ready to go off to college. So I saw property investment as something I needed to do for my kids and it grew from there. Each house or condo I bought had a different personality. To me, it was almost like playing with giant dollhouses, going in and trying to put the pieces back together. The best part was when I found someone who came in after me and wanted to love on it too. I’ve owned around 50 properties over my lifetime and the last one I had was in Bevo Mill. I had owned and cleaned properties all over the City, but there was something special about this area. So I decided to stay. I’ve always had a love affair with the City. If you ask me, St. Louis is the heart of the state. Like a body — if the heart goes, then the whole body goes.”
“My sister, Vera, and I had been adopted together. We were so close. She was born in September and I was born in July, so we were the same age for a few months out of the year. We looked alike too. When we were coming up, she was always telling on me. It’s funny thinking about it now. There was this one time we were having a tea party in my room. Our adopted mom went to get lemonade and cookies. Vera lit a cigarette and had me watching the door while she smoked. I got distracted talking and didn’t see Mom coming back into the room. Vera tried to hide the cigarette, so she threw it in my closet and it caught on fire. She told our mom we were both smoking and I got a whooping too. I was so mad! Vera ended up dying from AIDS in 2004. She kept it a secret. She was incarcerated for a while and when she was released, they put her in a nursing home. I visited her one day after work and walked in on her in the bathroom crying. She had her back to me and there were these dark, round spots all over it. I said, ‘What’s wrong? You need to ask the doctors to check on you.’ But she didn’t say anything to me in return. Eventually, they sent her to the hospital. One of our close friends visited every day. The nurses assumed that was her sister and told her Vera had been battling AIDS since 1990. It hurt when I found out. I didn’t care what she had. She was my sister.”
“I’ve got four kids and I’ve got a favorite. If anybody tells you otherwise, don’t listen to them. I try telling my kids, ‘I love you all the same.’ But then they just say, ‘We know Dildred is number one!’ It’s the truth. She’s a straight shooter and tells you exactly as it is. Plus, she always follows through with what she says she’ll do. Recently, I needed some work done on my teeth. They’d been hurting bad, but my insurance wouldn’t kick in until I paid a copay. And they’d remove my teeth, but not replace them. I said, ‘That’s not going to work. How am I supposed to eat?’ So I asked a few people to help, but they didn’t come through. The copay was only $44. I finally called my daughter and she said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got you.’ She called up the dentist’s office and used her credit card to pay over the phone. That’s the kind of daughter she is.”
“Mom would get frustrated because she didn’t understand Dad’s dementia. She saw him physically, but who he had been wasn’t truly there anymore. She couldn’t fault him or talk to him in the same way and she had a hard time with that. My mother’s dementia was completely different. Early on, if she lost her train of thought in the middle of a sentence, she would say, ‘You’re going to have to excuse me. You know I have dementia.’ She started to have symptoms before my father’s death, but I didn’t notice because I was a daddy’s girl and it was all about him. There were three of us girls — me, my sister, and my niece — and dad was adored. In his lucid moments, he would say, ‘You’re always concerned about me, but you need to check your mother out. She’s not right.’ My mom had always been the strong one who kept us all together. It took my dad’s passing for me to see where my mom was in her dementia. If I look back, I can see it now. There were a couple of times when Mom was driving Dad and both of them got lost. Then there was the time I left the house and when I came back, I walked into a mini-fire with the dryer and the dryer vent and my parents didn’t know what to do. I told myself I was never going to put either of them in a home. But it came to a point where I was truly not physically able to take care of them and I knew I couldn’t leave both of them at home.”