Stephanie Sandleben, a yoga instructor with tattoos on each shoulder, just finished Chapter 19 of
Tina Brown’s biography of
Diana, Princess of Wales. Sara Nolan, a 28-year-old graduate student, is 30 pages into a Rumer Godden novel. Mark Kalinowsky, 48 and a real estate broker, has long since stopped reading; he just comes to chat.
These three disparate characters are part of a ragtag crew that cycles through the worn one-bedroom Murray Hill walk-up where Elizabeth Goodyear, who recently celebrated her 101st birthday, is confined after two knee operations. A lifelong lover of books, Ms. Goodyear lost her sight about four years ago, but in its place has acquired a roster of readers who stop by regularly, bringing with them dogs, gifts from their international travels and offerings of dark chocolate, the elixir she has
savored daily since she was 3.
“Usually there’s something going on here,” Ms. Goodyear observed the other day during Ms. Sandleben’s weekly visit. “It’s strange. You’d think if you got to be 101, nothing much would happen. But it does.”
It started with a neighbor two generations younger, who once asked Ms. Goodyear to watch her bags while she ran back upstairs to fetch a bow and arrows for a trip to Maine.
As Ms. Goodyear grew more frail, the neighbor, a yoga instructor named Alison West, started stopping by to kiss her goodnight each evening. On learning that Ms. Goodyear had outlived her savings, Ms. West raised money to pay for her rent-controlled apartment and part of her home health aide’s wages. Then, about five years ago, she posted a sign seeking readers at yoga studios downtown and sent out an e-mail message that was forwarded and forwarded again.
“Liz has no family at all, and all her old friends have died, but she remains eternally positive and cheerful and loves to have people come by to read to her or talk about life, politics, travel — or anything else,” the message read. “She also loves good chocolate!”
Reading to the blind or the elderly is hardly novel. In New York City, two well-established programs, Lighthouse International and Visions/Services for the Blind and Visually Impaired, have hundreds of volunteers who make home visits or read to clients at their offices and in senior centers. The National Federation of the Blind provides a free telephone service through which people can hear articles from more than 200 newspapers and magazines, and the Jewish Guild for the Blind offers a similar program using special radios.
But the casual, organic way in which this particular group came together around Ms. Goodyear is a window into the way New York can be a small town, the way strangers become a community, the way books, reading and, especially, stories bind people together.
Elizabeth Goodyear, who is 101.
