98-year-old Howard Bell has never missed a shift at Good Samaritan Hospital & Medical Center
by Tom Hallman, The Oregonian
Monday January 26, 2009, 9:30 PM
Faith Cathcart,/The OregonianHoward Bell, 98, works in Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital’s short-stay unit where — between cracking jokes and flirting with nurses — he helps with paperwork and errands. At 98, Howard Bell has earned the chance to relax.
But twice a week, Bell has an early breakfast and sets out from his Northwest Portland retirement center to walk to Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital & Medical Center to spend a few hours volunteering.
Bell is the oldest of the hospital’s 538 volunteers and works in the short-stay unit where patients await surgery. He’s logged nearly 3,000 hours over the past seven years and has become a favorite of everyone who works there.
And a legend.
“He’s never missed a shift,” says Ashley Moulton, the hospital’s volunteer coordinator. “We treat volunteering kind of like a job. Most people work one shift a week. He does two a week.”
Moulton, 25, adds: “When he walks in, everyone brightens up. I’ve never met anyone like Howard.”
Faith Cathcart, The OrgonianBell walks from his retirement home in Northwest Portland twice a week to volunteer at the hospital. “He’s never missed a shift,” says Ashley Moulton, the hospital’s volunteer coordinator. Bell began volunteering after his wife died in 1999 and he moved from their Southeast Portland home. His wife had volunteered at a Northeast Portland hospital. With Good Sam just down the street, Bell thought he might give it a try, too.
What does he do there? “My stock answer is that I do everything up to brain surgery,” says Bell, sitting at a dining table at his retirement home. “What I really do is run errands and collate papers.”
And why? “Keeps me off the streets and out of the beer halls,” he quips. Six women laugh from the next table.
“OK,” he says, “I’m a joker.
He reveals another reason. “I was married one month short of 61 years,” he says. “My wife didn’t make it here with me.”
He pauses. “I’d like to think she’d be proud of me.”
The moment passes, and Bell turns playful again.
“Want to know the secret to not getting old?” he asks. “Chasing girls.” The women at the next table twitter.
“We heard that, Howard,” Pat Lawrence says. “I think the ladies have been known to chase you up and down the hall.”
“I don’t want to get caught,” Bell says, drawing more laughter.
He pushes back from the table. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
On the way to his room, Bell says he’ll turn 99 in November. He’s going strong — he gave up driving only five years ago — and says he plans to break 100.
“In fact,” he says, “I got 102 in mind.”
His apartment is filled with memories: photos of his wife — they met as Franklin High School students — of his children, and of his parents, brothers and sister. In his bedroom, a large painting depicts a young Bell standing in front of a delivery truck.
“I was in the motion picture industry here in Portland,” he says. “The unglamorous side. Had a company that took care of the needs of the theaters in town. We’d supply the advertising for the front of the theater, pick up the films and sell the theater everything from thumbtacks to screens.”
He leads the way back to the living room.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, “I’ll pop a few pills, and we can take off.”
He grabs his cane and pulls on an old fishing cap — setting it just so. Outside, he sets off down the street. After a block, he stops to catch his breath.
“You know you’re getting old,” he says, “when you have to stop — going downhill.”
He arrives in the volunteer office about 15 minutes later, slips into his volunteer shirt and clips on a badge.
“Ladies,” he says, “how are you today?”
Bess Dodd, the unit secretary, grins. “Howard,” she says, “there’s no one else like you. What would we do without you?”
He laughs as he grabs a stack of paperwork. “Without this job,” he says as he walks away, “I’d be bored stiff.”
