I began working at a nursing home in 1997. It was my job to create and facilitate activities for the residents. Most of the residents were women and most were of Christian background. There were about four men on the floor, three of them were very personable. Then there was Dan.
Dan was always in the main community room watching television, wearing a suit, and scratching his head, sending dandruff all over the shoulders of his dark jacket. When I first started working there, he never talked to me, and he hardly ever talked to anyone else. He just sat watching the television while wearing a jacket and tie and sometimes a suit. If he did respond hello to me, he never looked up. And then one day things changed.
I walked in to work that morning, walked right up to Dan as he sat in his chair at the t.v., held the magazine in front of him, and said, "I thought you might like this." He gave his Dan grumble, took it from my hands, and started to scroll through it.
I knew that I had him. Finally, I had grabbed the attention of Dan. Now I had to keep it. "When you finish that one, Mr. Crystal, I have a bunch more that I can bring you. I really like that magazine. I think it is one of my favorites."
He did not answer because he was so engrossed in his reading.
The next day I came to work and I walked right up to him again. "What did you think of the magazine?" I asked. He responded that he liked it and that he used to read it in the past. I handed him another one. This went on for about two weeks. Then we became true friends.
We started to talk about the articles. We started to talk about politics. We started to talk about life. He started to laugh. He started to get up from his seat and see what other people were doing. He started to engage in activities. I started to have a mentor.
Dan Crystal had a fascinating life. He told me about how he and his mother went to the movies when he was a young child, and the black families had to sit in the balcony. He remembered how upset he was when he saw that black people had to use a different entrance to the theater and that they were treated differently. As he and his mother left the theater, he asked her about it. While she was answering him, he saw some black children being scolded for trying to use the white's only water fountain. The whole scene never left his mind or his heart. He became a lawyer so that he could change the world. And he did.
He talked openly about his experiences, including working diligently in Washington D.C. to find information about Watergate and aid in the impeachment of Nixon. Dan never bragged about himself.
He was humorous, thoughtful, revolutionary, and aware. He insisted on attending the monthly residents' meeting and gave the administration an earful each time. He was always spot on, but sadly, they never really listened to him or followed up on his advice. Ageism existed here.
While Dan was raised Jewish, he was currently an atheist. He respected the religious beliefs of others and especially their right to have them. I discussed with him my aggravation with all the Christian bias in the nursing home as it was not advertised nor established as a religious facility. He always encouraged me to make the changes that I believed were inclusive to all the residents. I remember the winter holiday season when I had an ongoing battle with the anonymous reference board Christian.
The reference board is updated everyday. It is a big white board with velcro pictures, words, and numbers. Each day I would stick on the date, the picture for the weather, and also update when necessary, the listing for the upcoming holiday. I would stick on Hanukkah, and throughout the day I noticed that someone had taken it down and put up Christmas. Now this could not be a resident because the board was up high, beyond the reach of the residents. Everyday, and a few times a day, I would fix the upcoming holiday sign to accurately display the closest holiday. Dan loved my persistence and advocacy. He and I never caught the culprit. It was fun being together on the detective work, though.
At one of the residents' meetings Dan suggested that the nursing home have its own newsletter. What a terrific idea I thought! My friend Sandy and I had done one in Nantucket for the P.T.A and it was terrific. The administration agreed with Dan. Soon he and I were conspiring ways to get both floors of residents involved. We pulled in Corby, Dorothy Corbin, a spit fire of a woman who also was living at the nursing home. Wow did we have a spirited team.
One day my supervisor handed me a small stapled packet. I looked up at her confused. "This is the newsletter!" she exclaimed. I felt sick. She had ordered from some company THE CRAPPIEST MOST CHILD LIKE "newsletter" that I had ever seen. I was so angry. I started to explain to her that she had told Dan and the others that they could have their own newsletter and that we had been brainstorming. We even had a name for it; Reporter. This was based on a magazine that Dan created many years ago and had served as the primary editor. He had given me copies of his well written, politically charged Reporter to jump start our newsletter, and she had handed me coloring pages and "name that tune" to appease them.
Between Dan, Corby, and I, we got the Reporter to the press and carried it forward for at least a year.
Dan not only fought for the rights of the residents, but he fought for the rights of the staff as well. He was constantly asking what people were paid, and pertinent questions such as did they feel that they were well treated by the establishments, did they have complaints and what were they, etc. I remember being in such awe and deep respect watching Dan, unbeknownst to him, talk lovingly and seriously to a Jamaican nursing assistant. He wanted to be sure that she felt safe at work, could afford her life based on her pay, and was happy with how she was treated by the other staff.
Dan did all of this while he wore his suit and tie everyday. And everyday that suit was stained with his breakfast, lunch, and dinner because Dan had suffered a massive brain injury. This part of his story goes like this: one day while waiting for the subway, Dan was attacked and beaten by a bunch of young people. What makes this story even more frustrating is that these young people just happened to be black.
I wish that I could locate them all, pull each and everyone of them by their ear into a circle, and tell them that they really messed up. I would tell them about Dan Crystal and his life long commitment to justice, equity, and civil rights. I would tell them that they beat the wrong guy and that they screwed themselves over because the guy that they beat would have defended them in court. I would shove their noses to the ground and say, "How does this feel? How does it feel to be shoved to the ground because there is a good chance your heritage came from such abuse, but you didn't have to because of the committed work of Dan Crystal."
Dan Crystal had justice surge through every cell of his body, even when his body was beaten into a state of such trauma that he was not able to button his own shirts for the rest of his life. He never stopped caring about the well being of others. Even when his ability to comprehend the world was fading away due to the physical blows that were given to his head, human rights were always at the forefront of his interactions with everyone. He was a true gentleman and a committed social justice visionary up to his death.
May today be A First Day to Begin to commit ourselves to the wholeness and goodness of human kind. May we reflect humbly on the lives of people like Dan Crystal, and find our own passionate way to care for the humanity of the earth. May we also honor our elders, especially those with the stained shirts and dandruff covered shoulders, as their stories may be the most illuminating.
May today be A First Day to Begin to ask questions, pursue solutions, and show the world that we care...
