When I initially considered higher learning, I was excited. I was inspired by the prospect of being challenged in my thinking, to see the world in a different light. Unfortunately, my experiences were nothing of the sort.

I had spent my college career sitting in large lecture halls being bored to death by dried-up has-beens, or never-weres. I had taken course after course of required learning that was trite and overworked.

Then, one day, I walked into a class called Sociology 301. The professor was taller than me, she had dyed red hair and smelled like smoke. She stood behind an old wooden table with a Mountain Dew in her hand and addressed the class.

I was immediately struck by the fact that only fourteen other students were in the room. This was at least ten times smaller than any class I had attended. I was then struck by the syllabus. It was one paragraph.

The professor began the class by passing out the syllabus and then reading it:

“Your assignment in this class is to identify a group of disenfranchised people in our community. You are to engage people in this group and to identify their view of this society. You will write your findings down coherently and cogently. Your grade for this class will be determined on your choice of group, your contact with that group and the insights into our society that you glean from that group. Class will meet to discuss these issues. Your paper will be due one week before the end of the term.”

Thus began this adventure. Of course, I was in shock and confused to say the least. I spent several days agonizing over this assignment. Who would I pick to study? Where would I go to find this group of people? Who did I know that fit this required scenario? How would I go about this nebulous undertaking?

But I couldn’t escape the fact that this was what I was waiting for. This was the challenge, the actual learning experience I had expected from the beginning.

I went to visit my great-grandmother in a local nursing home. It was a little more than a week after the assignment. I was walking the halls looking for her room. The place smelled of alcohol and urine. I walked past rooms where the door was ajar and I could see the person in the bed or in a chair as I ambled past.

My great-grandmother is a wonderful person. She has been a bright spot in my life for as long as I can remember. She is always happy to see me. She is always interested in my life and seems to remember everything we last discussed.

Of course, she asked me about my classes. I groaned and talked and complained. Then, I came around to the sociology class. I shared my dismay at not finding a group to study. She laughed. I asked her why she was laughing. She said to look around. Where did I think I was? Who was more disenfranchised in this society than the aged?

Thus was the birth of this idea. I rummaged through my apartment and found my old tape recorder. I purchased several cassette tapes and began my project for Sociology 301.

These recordings contain the reflections and the wisdom of some prominent citizens I encountered in a local nursing home. These people recount years of service, experience and insight in various fields and realms of thought.

These recordings have been transcribed as they were dictated.