After visiting John one day, I was compelled to write the piece below. Although I read it to my writing group and shared it with Housecall Providers, I refrained from editing it much as, after all, it was just for me, direct from my heart. Today, the time feels right to share it.

My New Friend

I have a new friend. Although separated by nearly 30 years and of a different gender, John and I find many commonalities. Sometimes when he smiles, I see a look that is a cross between my mom and my dad, both who have died. No, I’m not looking for replacements, but my time with John has infused me with compassion and love in our human bonding.

And so, when John first told me about volunteering to learn to be a diver, letting me know it was initially to earn more, his expressions augmented his story about the challenge and excitement of being a diver. He taught me things I didn’t know, like about the USS Arizona. I shared with him, although not a diver, how I reviewed safety plans for dive teams a few decades ago. As he talked about his family logging operation, my deep Oregon roots knew exactly what he was talking about, and what to ask next. When the city of Pendleton came up, I could picture it having lived a few years in LaGrande as a kid. And I love his detailed conversations and explanations about being a mechanic, including the tough job of working on chemical trucks. He shook his head as he told me about the workers who didn’t seem to worry about exposures, opening his eyes wide before laughing when I told him I once trained people how to handle chemicals safely.

I’ve learned about John’s gestures, which he uses a lot, kind of like me. He moves his hands forward and in circles as he describes his love of fixing machines and engines. And later about being an EMT. As he spoke about his siblings, and his role as “runt”, he laughed and provoked me to tell him about nicknames created for me by my four brothers. We smiled together and bonded over understanding having both siblings and daughters.

On my most recent visit, I wondered what I could ask John that we hadn’t talked about yet. So, we talked about his childhood and school, which he attended but added he wasn’t a great student. When I asked about friends he told me they were his teammates, and I was reminded about our prior discussions about sports and running, and even volleyball. All things once also deeply important to me. Then I asked him if music was important to him, and he gestured as if playing an instrument, telling me about the bugle (taps and reveille) and trumpet. I asked him if he played anything else and his hands moved as only they do, when pretending to play the trombone. It took me a minute before laughing out loud at his joke about swallowing the trombone, him first thinking I believed him. And then. Oh my. I pulled out my phone and asked him if he knew this song, playing “Seventy-six Trombones” on Spotify. He began to nod his head in time with the music, humming along. I told him it was my dad‘s favorite musical, and although I didn’t tell him I remembered having before seen Dad gesturing a trombone the same way.

I try not to share too much about me and my life, but because it feels we share so much, sometimes it feels right to add bits into our conversation. He smiles and nods his head in interest. But, without a doubt, my favorite part of this week‘s visit was at the end. I had helped him move his chair back to join other residents watching a documentary. As I have each visit, I asked him if he’d like me to visit again. There was no doubt in his answer. Then I asked him if I could shake his hand goodbye. He returned a stern look and shook his head. His teasing eyes accompanied his comment, “I don’t shake hands with women.” Then he reached his arm out for a hug which I briefly fell into. Thank you, John’s family, for sharing this new friend with me.

Dede, May 28, 2026 by Dede Montgomery.

I miss John but am grateful in knowing him. I encourage you to read the entire piece about our time together from Housecall Providers. I thank this organization for all that they do in the support of people, their health, and relationships dear to all of us. If you are looking for an organization to support, I heartily support Housecall Providers. And, yes, my Mom Patty was a Housecall Providers patient. Read the article featuring our story and my testimonial, Daughter brings mom home for final months of life.

PS. Upcoming Events

Although it is only midsummer, I am reminded of three events coming up for me in September, I’d love for you to add one to your calendar if you’re local. I will be sharing slides at each of them and speaking more broadly than a simple book talk.

Portland Humanities Book Group: Reading Dede’s Beyond the Ripples, Thursday, September 10, 2026, Friendly House, Portland (all welcome)

A Map of Her Own at Lake Oswego Third Tuesday, September 15 from 5:30-6:30 pm, Lake Oswego Public Library, 706 Fourth Street, Lake Oswego (note time and venue change)

Where the River Meets the Story at the Museum of the Oregon Territory, Thursday, September 24 from 7-8 pm, 211 Tumwater Drive, Oregon City ($10 members, $20 non-members)

I hope you are finding moments of joy with family and friends, nature, and summer’s bounty, like blackberries in my neck of the world. Also, that you are able to stay cool and away from smoke. I send strength, courage and prayers of safety for those fighting fires here in the Pacific Northwest, the Rocky Mountain States, Canada, and around the world. And tears and condolences to those families who have lost a loved one to service.