About Life Summer 2019 - 20 by Life Care

about life Summer 2019-20

A fishy tale Stories from Marge Meyers

End of year celebration Life Care celebrates a great year

about life

Inside cover

Life Fest 2019 presenters

This issue... Written & edited by Andrew Harvey, Manager Marketing & Communications

is a celebration of the stories of Life Care – our people, our achievements and those whom we support to enjoy ‘Inspired Living’.

Welcome Thoughts from CEO Allen Candy

LifeFest Sharing ideas and innovations

Our people Welcome to the Team

A fishy tale Stories from Marge Meyers

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Awards and celebrations 2019 End of Year celebration

Sam Aitchison An unwavering character

A greater goal Allen Candy shares

Ebbs and flows Netta Dale: A credit to centenarians

Just knitting Shirley Rumbelow recollections

Rumpus on the campus Photo collage of some activities of our campus and groups

about life

Welcome Thoughts from CEO Allen Candy As I write this article, we have concluded our Life Care Leadership Day.

Coming into the Leadership Day, we had recently been buoyed by the results of our most recent Net Promoter Score survey. This survey asked Life Care customers how likely they are to recommend Life Care to someone they know. Scores can range from -100 to + 100, with a score of +70 representing world-class customer satisfaction.

This is an annual opportunity for the leadership of Life Care to stop and reflect on the year we’ve had, the year ahead and to develop further as leaders. This year’s experience was incredibly positive.

The average score within the Australian aged care industry is +22. Overall, Life Care scored +56. Our residential homes scored +49, and our home care service, At Home, scored +79 placing it amongst the best organisations in the world, an incredible result.

The sense in the room was that Life Care has achieved significant outcomes in 2019; that every member of the leadership team is proud of the work we do and proud to work for this organisation; and, that there is an excitement about 2020 and sense of unity within the team around the direction of the organisation. We started referring to this sense as ‘The Life Care Vibe’. The significance of this is even more pronounced when highlighted against the external aged care environment.

I am delighted with these results. Scores were up across the board compared to our previous NPS Survey. More importantly, the feedback we received contained significant detail that will help focus our efforts on what we need to do to become even better; our aim is to achieve world-class customer satisfaction in all services within the next five years.

Outside of Life Care, the dominating feature of aged care in 2019 has, of course, been the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety. The Commission’s interim report – provocatively entitled ‘Neglect’ – was released in late October. It used deeply emotive language to paint a picture of abject failure by a minority of providers (those organisations that were represented during the Royal Commission represented less than 1% of the industry) and a system that is in drastic need of a complete overhaul. It also took aim at the Government, saying it was ‘missing in action’.

The excitement felt at the Leadership Day was not only focused on what we have achieved this year. It was also about the potential for 2020. We have a clear direction set for the year that should see Life Care achieving outstanding things. We have recently commenced construction of Gaynes Park Suites at Joslin. Situated next door to our residential home, Gaynes Park Manor, The Suites will represent a new standard in retirement living in Adelaide. The Suites bring a new concept – called Assisted Living – to Adelaide. With premium accommodation combined with a full suite of in-home services, Assisted Living offers many benefits over more traditional Independent Living accommodation. The construction of Gaynes Park Suites will progress significantly during 2020, with completion due in December 2020.

For those who have dedicated their lives to caring for and supporting older Australians, this came as a slap in the face. For those needing to enter aged care, it must have felt alarming if not downright frightening. What wasn’t captured in the report is that the majority of providers do good work for our society’s most vulnerable. This is particularly true at Life Care.

I would like to extend a personal thank you to the board, management and staff of Life Care for their ongoing support, all of whom have worked tirelessly throughout 2019.

During the Leadership Day, we took the time to reflect on our achievements for the year. The list was as long as it was significant: it touched on every service across Life Care and was clearly focused on outcomes that benefited our customers.

Wishing everyone a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year. 4

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2019 Net Promoter Score Results Our Overall Results

Things you said we need to improve

Things you said we do well

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Our People Welcome to the Life Care team

Rita Hadjisavva Human Resources Administrator

Matt Burgess Clinical Systems Analyst

Rita recently joined Life Care as a Human Resources Administrator, providing support to the People and Culture Team and our employees.

Matt Burgess joined the Life Care team in September this year a Clinical Systems Analyst. In this role, Matt is the conduit between our IT systems and our clinical staff, providing training, education and support to help deliver great clinical outcomes.

She comes to us with Human Resources experience across both disability services and aged care. She’s excited to further develop her career within Life Care and feels particularly passionate about our vision to be a ‘Premier Provider of Services and Accommodation for Older People.’

Prior to coming to Life Care, Matt worked at Anglicare SA and, more recently, Southern Cross Care. It was at Southern Cross that he discovered his professional passion for the aged care industry. Matt sees his Clinical Analyst role as the idea way to move from a pure IT focus into something that uses his skills to help front-line staff achieve more, and ultimately to make a difference in customer’s lives; it’s this that he finds incredibly satisfying.

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LifeFest Sharing ideas and innovations

As a concept, LifeFest was first experienced by Life Care staff a number of years ago. However, following staff feedback in 2019 around sharing ideas across our services, it was brought to life again in November 2019. A little like speed-dating, LifeFest 2019 saw representatives from every service and office sharing their latest and greatest ideas and programs with other staff. Presenters were in groups of two and had 15 minutes to share their experiences with a group at their table before the group then moved on to another table. The feedback on the day was extremely positive, with people really appreciating gaining a better understanding of what goes on outside their service. Ultimately, groups were tasked to identify key ideas that they had heard during the day to take them back to their service and implement them to spread innovation and ideas across Life Care.

about life

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A fishy tale Stories from Marge Meyers ‘I was not interested in fishing, because my father used to go fishing every Sunday. And he’d bring fish home for my mother to clean. And the smell!’

this great big shark. He finally caught it and said, “We’ve got to go back to the caravan park; I want to take a photo of it.” I asked what he was planning to do with the shark. He said, “We’ll just put it in the back seat!” And so I’m sitting there [in the front seat] with this shark lying across the back seat!’ Marge’s fishing adventures didn’t all happen while gallivanting around Australia. Outer Harbour was a favourite haunt for Marge and Doug.

We were sitting in Marge Meyers’ lounge room at Reynella Village. Marge sat in her green velour recliner surrounded by her very tidy, very comfortable home. I was about to learn how this diminutive, enthusiastic woman fell in love with fishing.

‘Down here at Outer Harbour, we were out in our boat one day, and Doug was fishing for sharks. We would take it in turns: when the big rod buzzed, one of us would take it.

‘After our three children were born, my husband, Doug, wanted to build a boat. And I said that’s fine, as long as I’ve got everything I want from the house.

‘We slept out on the boat, and [one particular day] it was just morning, beautiful, beautiful morning, and the line went zzzzzzing! and Doug said that it was his turn and so he got the line in and he realised it was a shark and he finally caught it, and it was a Bronze Whaler. You can imagine copper pennies, how beautiful the copper is, well this was what [the shark] was like.

‘Anyway, he finally built his boat, and he said, “Come on, we’re going out in the boat”. And I said, “I’m not going fishing!” And he said “That’s alright, just come out in the boat.”’ ‘Of course, after a while, he said, “Come on, have a go [at fishing].”’ Marge then made a sound that made it clear this was the moment she discovered one of life’s great joys.

‘Anyway, we hadn’t got that much information about catching sharks, but Doug said, “I know we have to take it round in the boat, round and round, and it will drown.” I said, “Ahh, ok.” So we took it round and round to drown it, and Doug was about to tie it onto the side of the boat to take it into the marina to have it weighed, and he said, “Just put your arms around here to hold it.” And I said, “But that’s the pointy end, no way!” And he said, “It’s ok; it’s drowned!” And I said, “I don’t care!”

‘I did [try it]. And it was the worst or the best thing I ever did. ‘The first thing I caught was a big whiting. It went bang, bang, bang on the line. And that was me finished. I was hooked. ‘And then I used to say to my husband, “Can’t we go fishing?” And he’d say, “We can’t, the weather’s no good!”

‘Anyway, we got back to the marina, and Doug’s untying it, and it starts flapping its tail! What we’d done was drag [the shark] around, so the water just flowed through his gills! He was happy as Larry! We should’ve [driven the boat around] the other way [so that water didn’t flow through the gills]. Luckily Doug had a rifle on board, so we shot it, and that was it.’

‘For two years, we went caravanning around Australia. We finished up in Broome. I used to like fishing down at 80-mile beach – about 600kms south of Broome – and we used to go on the beach, way, way up in our four-wheel drive, and we’d go [fishing] for Thread Fin Salmon.

‘What did you like about fishing?’ I asked. ‘Beating that fish,’ Marge said with a big grin.

‘One day we were fishing and Doug said, “Pull your line in, I’ve got something big!” And he did, he had

‘Are you competitive then?’

about life ‘Oh, very! Very, very much so!’

‘Why, what was so attractive about that?’

Our conversation then moved on to other, less aquatic, matters.

‘I love using my brain, and [Hoffmann] was going to be using more of it.

‘I’ve been living here in Unit 27 for 21 years,’ said Marge.

‘And… I’ve learnt Spanish,’ said Marge, throwing in this little fact with evident pride.

‘Well, happy 21st!’

‘So, Hoffmann has been beneficial for you?’

‘I had a happy birthday just the other week actually.’

‘I was here, by myself a lot, because I stopped going to bowls. And yes, I was reading, and I was watching TV, and I was going out in my car a little bit but not a lot. But it was getting that way that, hmm… I wasn’t bored, but I don’t know what it was, I just didn’t feel quite happy. And I thought, hmm, it’s up to me now, what am I going to do? And [then Hoffmann] just cropped up. And it just clicked. And I’ve gone to every [class], and I just love it. And the exercises, I can feel myself improving in so many ways.

‘You were… ninety-something?’ I tried to recall. ‘Just ninety! ninety thank you!’ said Marge, laughing out loud at the mere suggestion she was a day over ninety. ‘What does it feel like to be 90? Does it feel like something special?’ ‘Well, I’m a nonagenarian! As I was getting up to [turning 90] – probably most of this year – I felt urghhhh, I’m going to be 90. Is that the beginning of the end? And then as it got closer to my birthday, and from my birthday on, I felt like well, I made it. Let’s get on with it!’

‘About a month ago, I’m in the shower, washing my hair, and then, hang on [I thought]! I’m standing up, not holding on, and I’ve got my eyes shut! And it’s just that, before [Hoffmann], you’re holding on, you’re making sure you’re not going to fall. And now I can do squats! I do weights!’

‘Let’s get on with what?’

‘I’d love to see you do squats!’ I said with glee, without thinking of what this might lead to! The next thing I know, much to my horror, Marge said, ‘All right!’ and getting out of her chair, walked over to her dining table.

‘Living! Because over the last two to three years, it’s been very quiet here, because my daughter’s very involved with her grandchildren now.’ Family is often a sensitive subject, and after exploring it for a few minutes, we moved on.

‘If I fall over, it’s your fault!’

‘Is there anything else you do with your time?’ I asked, eager to find out how a nonagenarian keeps busy.

And right there, at her dining table, she delivered an impressively low squat! And even better, she didn’t fall over!

‘Oh. Hoffmann,’ Marge said. Her voice suggested that this “Hoffmann thing” could be either really good or really bad.

‘I do about 12 of those straight!’ she said. ‘And they tell me I’m good, so I get a little tick. And we do balancing and a lot of chair exercises and a lot up at the bar. It’s great!’

The ‘Hoffmann’ that Marge was referring to is a relatively new initiative that Life Care piloted around a year ago and has now rolled-out at both the Life Care Active service at Joslin and Reynella Village. Life Care has created a holistic wellbeing program, tailoring the Hoffmann Method that originated in Spain to an Australian context. The program’s ground-breaking approach to wellbeing provides physical, social, emotional and cognitive benefits to participants through group and individual classes.

‘Why do you like it so much?’ I asked. ‘I think because from one week to the next, you never know what’s going to happen. Cause they do something different all the time. Sometimes it’s a little bit similar, but it’s not, it’s different. We play charades! Which I hate! But I’m learning how to play it!’ The broad smile on Marge’s face suggested that even though she hates charades, she actually loves it. Not that she’d admit that to anyone.

‘Carol from [Life Care’s home care service] At Home told me about it and asked if I’d be interested. And I asked her what it entails. Well, that was it. As soon as I heard what it was likely to be – exercises and then cognitive stuff – I said I’m in.’

‘I also enjoy the social side of [Hoffmann].’

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‘Have there been any other changes that you’ve noticed since going to the Hoffmann classes?’

While at this point in our conversation I’m already impressed by Marge’s experience in the Hoffmann classes, I’m eager to judge whether Marge has made it sound better than it actually is. To explore this, I asked her to sum up what it means for her to go to Hoffmann.

‘Around the house, I don’t use my stick or walker. I’m confident, and I think Hoffmann has helped.’ ‘Do you feel like you’ve gotten to know the people who go to the Hoffmann classes?’

‘I look forward to two days a week: Tuesday morning and Friday morning [when the Hoffmann classes run], because I know that I’ll be welcomed, with love - and they do show love. And friendship. And if you’re not feeling very well, they know, and they treat you accordingly until you come good. They’re just so helpful. I can’t imagine what ways they don’t help. I think it’s perfect. I really think it’s the perfect situation.

‘There’s one lady especially. When she first came, I thought that she’s going to put a dampener on [people’s mood in the classes]. But over the weeks I’ve seen her blossom! She admitted it the other day. She said when she first came she used to cry. But she said, now I laugh! And she does!

‘And on Tuesday we had someone from England come and join our group. And he said to me, “Will you come back to England with me?”’

And I’ve noticed, with the cognitive problems, she used to say no, I can’t do that. And now, she tries and does them!

I laughed again in disbelief. Marge continued, ‘I found later that he’s interested in starting this sort of thing in England. He wanted me to come with him. I’m not going away with a strange man!’

‘That’s amazing!’ ‘It is!

‘How old was he?’

‘I love to see that the people who have been in it the whole time – there’s five of us – at the start, the others didn’t try. They felt it was too hard. And now I’ve noticed that they’re all improving! They’re all improving, and it’s lovely. It really is.’

‘Too young.’ Laughs all-round. To wrap up our conversation, and to truly get a sense of whether the Hoffmann classes have made a difference in Marge’s life, I asked perhaps the riskiest question.

One of the activities that Marge and her friends participate in during the Hoffmann classes is to learn Spanish. Ale is a native Spaniard, and so it has been a natural step for her to teach Spanish as part of the Hoffmann experience. Learning a new language appears to be a highlight for Marge.

‘You used to really love fishing. You loved ‘beating the fish’ but you can’t do that now. Has your involvement in Hoffmann made up for that at all?’ ‘Oh, well and truly! I find that when I come home from Hoffmann, I need a rest, because it’s so fullon! And as I said, you never know what to expect. They do so many different things. And Ale will come in, and she’ll look at me, and I’ll say oh no! And she’ll say mmm hmm! And she knows that we’re going to be doing something that I’m not quite sure if I’ll like, but I have to do it anyway. But it’s that sort of thing all the time. It’s just… It’s just great. It really is. And everybody’s great.

‘[The other participants] don’t speak much Spanish, but when I go in, I say to Ale, “Mi nombre Marge. Tengo 90 años ¿Cómo estás?” And she’ll say, “Muy bien gracias. Y tu?” And I’ll say, “Muy bien, gracias.”’ ‘That’s very impressive!’ I said in disbelief, laughing out loud. ‘I don’t know what you said, but it sounds impressive!’ ‘Well, I said my name is Marge. I am 90 years old. How are you? And I get an answer, very well thank you. And you? And then I said very well. Thank you. That’s what I said, didn’t you hear me?’ said Marge, with a laugh.

‘Not that I like Hoffmann. I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody,’ Marge concluded with her tongue firmly planted in her cheek.

‘I haven’t been going to Hoffmann, so I don’t know!’

about life

Sam Aitchison An unwavering character Sam Aitchison should not be a balanced man. At 17, he joined the Royal Australian Navy. His childhood – sheltered to the point of barely leaving the square mile between home, church, and school – didn’t prepare him for what he found. ‘I was virtually innocent to what the outside world was like,’ explained Sam, sitting in an easy-chair next to his wife, Jeanette. ‘I didn’t go to town until I was 12. We didn’t even have a car.’ The navy saw the good, the bad and the ugly hammocked together, with only a few feet of air separating Sam from the glory and depravity of other men’s conversations. ‘It gave me more of an insight into life,’ he said. ‘I accepted it in a way, but it also caused me almost to have a nervous breakdown at one time.’ Today, Sam is in his 90s and speaks clearly and quietly. Each phrase seems considered before it is spoken. As we talked, there was a gentleness in his manner, seemingly underpinned by measured confidence and humility. Despite the uncompromising challenges of navy life, Sam progressed. Ultimately, he became a Navy Beach Commando: an elite troop akin to the Navy’s Secret Service. Beach Commandos were treated with such respect that when they were present on the beach, all other ranks followed their orders. The experience of becoming a Commando brought with it further rigours. Firstly the gruelling training regime that many found more than enough. Ultimately, it led him to war. As Sam spoke of this part of his life, his quiet confidence and humility never wavered. He never boasted about reaching this upper echelon of military success. He never belittled the experience. He spoke of the sense of duty that the war produced in him. And he shared how he remained true to who he is.

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about life

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‘You’re introduced into [the commandos], but within yourself, you always remain yourself. Well, I always have,’ said Sam. ‘All the people around you have some sort of influence. [But] you needed to see those people for who they were while thinking about who you are and who you want to be.’

Asked if such a life-altering event had left its mark, Sam said simply, ‘I don’t think I’ve changed a lot.’

Sam has had many opportunities to reflect on his life: two rounds of open-heart surgery, bowel cancer, a ‘prostate job’, the removal of his gall bladder and 27 injections in his lower spine. And then there was the day Sam died. It was asthma.

And did it change Sam’s faith?

‘No,’ agreed Jeannette. ‘I think I’m just still me.’ ‘Thank heaven.’

‘No, because it’s always been there,’ said Sam. So you see, between the ravages of war – Sam shared only one of his many war memories and that was enough to conclude he should have been deeply and negatively affected – and run-ins with his own mortality, you could forgive Sam for being at least a little off-kilter; many people would be. But when asked how he sees himself, Sam’s response is revealing: ‘I don’t think too much of myself. But I also don’t think too little of myself either,’ said Sam.

‘Well, he was three days and three nights in the kitchen,’ began Jeanette, keen to share her recollections. ‘He couldn’t move, couldn’t eat and couldn’t drink. And the doctor kept coming, and eventually, he said that Sam was going to die and that we should move him into the bedroom so he could be more comfortable.

Sam Aitchison is a balanced man. There are probably a few reason; Sam would definitely credit a higher power. But there’s also another, more earthly component to it. When asked for his life’s most significant moments, the moments that shaped who he is, Sam was quite clear.

‘So we walked into the bedroom with our two young boys.

‘The number one event was meeting and marrying this beautiful woman,’ said Sam. ‘I couldn’t have done better.’

‘The doctor declared him dead for three minutes. ‘I prayed and held his hand. I didn’t pray out loud, but I prayed like I’d never prayed before.

You see, throughout the conversation, as Sam spoke about the many adventures of his life, Jeanette was right next to him. But she wasn’t jumping in to talk about her life. Instead, she was cheering Sam on, encouraging him to speak about this highlight or that highlight. And you get the sense that this remarkable man (this article doesn’t do him justice) is who he is because of Jeanette. Or, perhaps, more precisely, because of Sam and Jeanette. Sam’s stability, his indefatigable consistency of character, is, in no small degree, because of the bond he shares with Jeannette.

‘And then he opened his eyes. ‘And I just remember thanking God that he’d come back. ‘It made me and my faith stronger. And we can tell people that he went to the end of the tunnel and put his foot through, so they [can] know there is life after death,’ finished Jeanette. ‘I’ll tell you what happened there,’ put-in Sam. ‘I went through this tunnel towards a brilliant white light, and I got to the tunnel and put my foot through. And I was told to go back. I don’t know by who. And so I went back, and I woke up. When I arrived back – although I hadn’t heard Jeanette praying – I was able to tell Jeanette what she’d prayed.

Knowing this, it seems silly to ask whether their marriage has turned out the way they thought it would. But silly questions can sometimes be useful.

Jeanette had prayed silently.

And so, the question was asked. Of course, Jeanette answered first.

‘She didn’t speak at all,’ said Sam.

‘Better,’ said Jeanette.

‘First time in my life,’ quipped Jeanette.

And she’s not just saying that.

about life

Just knitting Shirley Rumbelow recollections ‘They’d just found all these little children. When the war between China and Nepal was on. Back about 20 years ago,’ said Shirley, her voice high with a slight gravelly quality. It was just five minutes into my conversation with Shirley Rumbelow, as we sat in her lounge room at Parkrose Village in Everard Park, and already I was intrigued.

‘So you’ve been knitting for a long time!’ I said. ‘Well, yes! I’ve been doing it for forty years!’ she exclaimed. ‘What I do is, I knit until that chair [on the other side of the room] is full up, and then my girlfriend comes and takes them and they go to all over the world. ‘They go to all the orphans of the world. They’ve never run out of orphans! So I’ve just kept knitting!’

‘They found all these children,’ she continued. ‘From five [years old]! Their parents had been killed, and the Red Cross found them, and they needed jumpers.

Not knowing Shirley very well yet, I was curious about her motivation for this prolonged spate of knitting. Perhaps she is secretly a saint?

‘They found them in these big drains where the heating used to go down or something… I’m not sure of the details because I only did the knitting.’

‘I hate being idle,’ explained Shirley. ‘It’s not altruism?’ I asked.

I only did the knitting.

‘Well, I don’t want to be known about it! People don’t know about it till they eat my marmalade.’

If you’re lucky enough to spend some time with Shirley, you’ll quickly learn that this little phrase contains more about Shirley than you could possibly imagine. It’s a phrase that hints at an understated approach to life, to generosity, to friendships, to her past and indeed to her future. Shirley revealed all of this and more as I sat with her over the next hour or so.

Ah yes, the marmalade. I had already discovered Shirley’s marmalade when I visited the week prior to set up our meeting. Shirley doesn’t just knit for the children of the world; she makes marmalade and ‘lemon cheese’ for anyone and everyone who’ll take some. I was given two jars of each for the five minutes I spent with her that day. ‘I don’t go around saying “I make marmalade!” but when people come here I say, “Would you like a jar?” That’s all. It’s just to be involved.’

I had asked what I thought was a fairly common question – who does she knit for? The answer was as unexpected as Shirley turned out to be.

So, doing good, but on the quiet. Sainthood is looking good.

‘The children of the world,’ she said as if that explained everything. ‘In every country of the world there must be one of my hats or coats. There must be. I’ve sent them to Russia…. You’d be surprised at the countries…

‘[My] oldest sister, very much the same – put her hand to whatever she wanted to do: knitting, crochet, fancy work, cooking. Her house was always full of people,’ continued Shirley.

‘And then when that great big thing in Ukraine blew up. Umm…’ she continued, trying to recall the name.

Talk of her sister shifted our conversation to her upbringing.

‘Chernobyl?’ I suggested without much confidence.

‘It was a difficult upbringing. I won’t go into it, but it was a very sad upbringing.’

‘Chernobyl,’ agreed Shirley. ‘It blew up. And they found all these disabled children in an orphanage, and I remember sending a great big batch [of knitting] over to them!’

Rather than focus on the details, given her evident desire to avoid discussing them, I asked about the impact they had on her.

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about life Ultimately, we returned to Shirley’s family story, for this, more than anything, provides context for who Shirley is.

‘Right up to seven or eight, it was the happiest, happiest family. My aunt was the most beautiful woman – my mother’s sister – if ever there was a problem, Aunt was there.

‘My father was a very, very good, gentle man,’ Shirley said.

‘Then the Depression came, father lost his job. And he came home from where he was working – Mt Bold Reservoir – he came home…’ Shirley’s voice trailed off briefly. ‘I only heard about this years later when I found him… he came home to an empty house!’

Then came the genuinely dramatic moment in the story. ‘I found him when I was expecting my fourth child.’ Again, her tone was matter-of-fact.

It wasn’t immediately apparent to what she was referring. After further probing it became clear that Shirley’s mum took the two younger girls - Shirley, and her sister - and left without a word to Shirley’s father.

‘I got a telegram at the post office, saying if you want to see your father, he’s living up at Prospect Hill! Twenty-five years later! ‘So my husband and I went up there and got him. And what a wonderful old man that was! He was a beautiful, gentle Irishman.

‘We thought we were going on a holiday! And where did [mum] put us? In a children’s home! Hid us there for four years!

‘He told me so many things about what happened… that’s how I knew he went back to an empty house.’

‘It was the most beautiful place. Always clean sheets. My family never knew where we were!’

As our time together moved towards its conclusion, there was one specific matter that needed to be addressed: Shirley’s involvement in Giving Back.

It’s this mixture of bitter reality tinged with gratefulness that offers another insight into Shirley. As she spoke, it was clear she wasn’t looking for pity; far from it. This was her life, and, with all of its foibles and pinnacles, it is part of her. You almost get the sense that she is grateful for it. All of it. The good and the bad. Or at a minimum, that she reflects with charity on the less advantageous occasions.

Shirley is one of many from Parkrose Village who volunteer their time to cook, knit, and crochet for Fred’s Van: a food service for people who are experiencing homelessness.

‘After that, we came back to Adelaide. Mum put us in this little room. And then one day the back door opened and in walked my older sister! Somehow she found us!

The initiative, known within Life Care as Giving Back, is part of Life Care’s Wellbeing Program. The program aims to find new and different ways to enhance people’s lives more holistically. Other Wellbeing initiatives include Bucketlist – in which people are enabled to have an experience they’ve always wanted – and Mindfulness – which focuses on facilitating the practice of mindfulness.

‘[My life], from 8 to 15, was very tumultuous. Yes, we were very well presented when we went to school because my sister Margaret, she was left to look after us at 12, and although she was only 15 or 16 when we went to school, she made everything, and she was only a teenager! ‘So I can’t tell you, in a solid story, a lot about my life as a young person. We were always in a happy house, but it wasn’t stable.’

When I raised the matter of her involvement in Giving Back, her first response was as honest as everything else Shirley said.

From there, our conversation meandered across a few different topics, including the surprise revelation that the last granddaughter in the family is Laura Hodges, née Summerton, WNBA player and three times Olympian. Another surprise.

‘I didn’t want to do that! [Get together with others to bake.] I’d rather bake in my own kitchen!’ And as for her first impression of the program and the idea of baking for the homeless?

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‘Oh, I can make a cake! Just like that. Would you like to know about the first cake?’ she asked. I answered in the affirmative, and a big belly laugh was her response to the memory.

‘Do you think that people will or should be impressed at how generous you’ve been?’ I asked. ‘No,’ Shirley answered bluntly. ‘Why not?’

‘I made a double banana cake, and it was lovely and hot, and I was taking it around to [my neighbour] Suzie, and I went down the garden on this little incline, and schoop! Bang! On the ground it went!

‘Well, there’s better ones here [at Parkrose Village]. Look at Valmae and Dean. Look at what they do! Most of the women here do work, silently doing things. You’d be surprised at what the people do do here.’

‘It didn’t get any dirt on it, and it was still hot, so I picked it up, and I went into Suzie, and I said, “Take it!! Take it home to your children! Do what you like with it!” And I told her the story of how it came to be in the state it was in.

The conversation continued easily for some time. We covered broad territory, including the details of her great-grandson who is a singer in the Melbournebased rock band Jet. Of course he is. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

‘I didn’t see [Suzie] for several days, and then I asked her, “Did your grandchildren enjoy the cake?” ‘

As I walked down the path from Shirley’s home, I felt at once entertained by such a fascinating story, and appreciative for this pragmatic, unassuming, generous woman. Yet again, I had been given a glimpse into someone’s complex, surprising life and found within it as much beauty and tumult as you’d find in any Hollywood story.

‘”No, but the office people did!” she answered. “And they came and asked for the recipe!’’ ‘So what’s the secret to a good banana cake?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know! I just make them!’ Shirley responded. ‘That was my first effort at a banana cake, and the homeless didn’t get it!’ ‘So when you’re making the banana cake, or whatever, are you thinking about the [homeless] people that will be getting it, or not?’ I asked. ‘Yes! I do think about them! Because [a person whose identity has been withheld] said, ‘You stop baking for those homeless! They get the same pension as you, and they have made themselves in the condition they’re in!’’ ‘Do you agree with [that person]?’ ‘In a hundred percent way, yes, and in a hundred percent way no! Because last year, my grandson… he was in a firm over in Melbourne, and it went broke, and he was left without a job. He was an architect and was sent all over the world. And for 12 months he couldn’t get a job. So his mother, who had money, she paid his mortgage for a year. So he could’ve been homeless if he didn’t have a mother and father that he could go home to. So now I have a different idea of it. Sometimes it’s not their own fault.’ As our conversation continued and Shirley presented me with a cup of tea and a well-buttered Cruskit, I probed a little further, wanting to make sure I had understood Shirley and her motivations.

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A greater goal Five small black and white photos adorn Allen Candy’s office wall. They simply feature older people in various everyday scenarios.

There’s nothing overtly special about each photograph, and yet, their significance to Allen cannot be understated: Allen placed them there as a daily reminder of why he works in aged care. For Allen, it’s about people: the people Life Care supports and those that choose to work for Life Care. It seems like a cliché until you learn that 15 years ago, Allen had a very different outlook. Fifteen years ago, Allen was working as Chief Financial Officer and Company Secretary for T&R Pastoral, now called Thomas Foods, a global food business. And he was loving it. Yes, it was a demanding role, but the rewards were significant. The problem was, they were coming at the expense of Allen’s family; he was missing many of his kids’ events, and he felt that his family was coming second to his career. Allen needed a change. When an opportunity presented itself to join aged care provider Masonic Homes as Deputy CEO, Allen didn’t jump at the opportunity. He didn’t even apply for the role. It took the drop-out of the initially successful candidate, and some strong encouragement from the recruiter, for him to take that step. His reluctance was countered by the thought that aged care could be a good short-term stepping stone into something better; he expected to work in aged care for two or three years before moving on. But then something happened.

‘I got passionate,’ explained Allen. ‘Not about aged care as such, but about ageing and about the elderly and about making a difference for older people. I got to know some of the people that worked at Masonic, and I got to know some of the clients; I got quite close to some people at one of the villages. And it just grew on me.’ By the time Allen arrived at Life Care, a career in aged care had become far more than a stepping stone. ‘It wasn’t a calling that dragged me [to Life Care], but it has become a calling,’ said Allen. Has this calling come with regrets? Has Allen dared to ask that question? The answer is yes he has, and the answer is an unhesitating no, he has none. ‘Even before the Royal Commission, this sector and the ageing population demanded a professional response. What I like about this industry is that, while we need to be financially viable, it is about more than that. It’s about the people we care for; it’s about trying to innovate and to do something better. I find it very motivating and very rewarding.’ The Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety has seen the aged care industry in the spotlight more than ever before. (Ironically, it has only received around one third the media attention of the banking royal commission.) The interim report has lifted the lid not only on examples of disgraceful behaviour by a minority of providers but, Allen suggested, on a system in need of reform.

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about life ‘In the Royal Commission’s interim report, [the Commissioners] highlight that [the state of the aged care industry] is not just the [aged care] sector’s problem,’ said Allen. ‘Successive governments have underfunded [the sector] and gone for short-term fixes rather than a holistic, long-term approach. I would argue that the sector needs to embrace the recommendations of the Royal Commission. But what’s more important is what [of the Commission recommendations] the government implements. Are we going to have a holistic look at reforming the whole system, or are we just going to put more punitive actions into the sector? Red tape stops innovation, and the current system doesn’t encourage, recognise, reward or promote innovation. In fact, we [innovate] in spite of the system.’ Does this bring into question the value of trying to innovate? Is it worth it? ‘Absolutely,’ said Allen.

‘You’ve got to look at why you’re doing this and whether what you’re doing to innovate is actually making a difference.’ “When you look at the results of our NPS Survey [See CEO Welcome, Page 4], it’s clear that we’re doing a lot right already, but what is exciting is the feedback we’ve received - it gives us a clear direction for how we can innovate to make an even bigger difference.” But is this enough for Allen? When you’re facing industry-wide challenges and an ageing population, is it enough to lead a mediumsized not-for-profit that makes a difference to a few thousand people? ‘I think we have an obligation to be the best we can be, to give people even better outcomes tomorrow than we are today. Then, if we’re able to demonstrate that we’ve been successful in doing this, one of my goals is for us to take a stronger leadership position within the sector and say, you know what? You can do better. You can rise above a dysfunctional system.

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‘We’re investing in research through the Bath University in the UK that will both help us deliver our new strategic plan and also provide evidence to support our leadership position. With that evidence in hand, I believe it’s our obligation to have a real impact on the wider community and to influence and help shape the wider sector.’

Regardless of the outcomes of the Royal Commission, I think in the next two or three years we might be able to kick it up two or three levels: in the way we support our staff and, equally as importantly, in some new programs and approaches to how we care for and deliver services in our communities. I’m very excited about the future.’

‘I’m very proud to be CEO of Life Care. I’m the fifth CEO in 70 years and I feel very fortunate. I think when I look at our accreditation results, our NPS results, our standing within the sector, I’m very proud of what we do; this is the pinnacle of my career.

‘We’re fortunate to have our Board Chair, John Stock. John has been with Life Care longer than I’ve been CEO. When I met John, Life Care’s reputation wasn’t where it should have been. And yet, here we are, nine and a half years later, having this conversation, and with a confidence and sense of pride that wasn’t there before.

Despite the turmoil in the sector, There’s been a lot of hard work I don’t think I’ve ever been so upbeat and confident about what from a lot of people across the organisation that has seen we’re doing. Life Care become a stronger, more resilient, more forwardthinking organisation... than we were nine years ago. And because we’ve done those hard yards, it places us in good shape while the sector is uncertain. We’ve not just woken up in this position. For over nine years, a lot of people have been working with great passion and determination for us to become a stronger organisation. That’s why we’re confident about the future.’

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Ebbs and flows Netta Dale: A credit to centenarians Netta Dale’s age is not important. Particularly to her. While everyone else seems to dwell on the fact that she has received a special letter from the Queen, Netta, quite simply, never thinks about it (her age, not the letter). She never has. That said, it’s quite clear that Netta is a credit to centenarians everywhere. As I sat in her room at Aldinga Beach Court, I quickly concluded that I was sharing it with a proper lady, in every sense of the word. She spoke in a quiet, considered and thoughtful manner, never a word out of place. Her gentle English accent reminded me that my Australian drawl is never going to do justice to the language we share. She was well presented, politely engaged with those who came in during our conversation, and was happy to indulge me as I asked her to recall matters that she could certainly be forgiven for forgetting. Growing up in Warwickshire, England, Netta’s childhood recollections sounded almost like an Enid Blyton book. As memories returned, she smiled and laughed; her words were full of sun and lightness. There was talk of farms and orchards and sitting on crates with legs swinging. Playing football with a pig’s bladder. Horses and carts. And moving literally across the road after getting married. Doors weren’t locked. Roads were car-free. And Netta felt free to wander as she wished. “Life was easier,’ explained Netta. ‘You just enjoyed it.’ Of course, it wasn’t an Enid Blyton book. Reality was still present. ‘The hardest part of my young life was that there used to be an epidemic every year. There’d be diphtheria, polio, measles or mumps. In those days your parents used to give you teaspoons of different things. I can’t remember all the names. There was an orangey thing, and a ginger thing and one which mum said “cleared the blood” – I used to hate that one. Brimstone and Treacle!’ ‘Were you afraid of getting sick?’

about life We moved on to more significant events: Netta’s first marriage.

‘Not afraid, but we were glad when it was over. I know I used to dread the thought of having polio.’

Her first husband was called Denis.

Despite these not insignificant threats, life was good. ‘I had no fear, at all.

‘We lived just a few doors away from each other,’ said Netta. Netta paused. A smile and a small laugh of genuine fondness escaped. ‘Yeah, he was a lovely man,’ said Netta, her voice full of memory. ‘We used to go on our bikes for music lessons – piano.’ Another smile and laugh. ‘We had no football. We used to have the bladder of a pig, and kicked that.’ More laughter. ‘We had a lovely time. We didn’t have what you all have, or what I have now, but life was easier.’

Me and my friend, we walked three miles through the slum, there and back, to a technical college, and we had no fear. You could walk in the slums any time you wanted. Now imagine you trying to do that today,’ said Netta. ‘Did that change later on?’ I asked. ‘I think fear first came to me during the war. Coventry [where Netta later lived] was really an industrial town. [The German bombers] used to come over where I lived to pinpoint the Morris Motors and munition factories. I’ve got lots of memories of the war I tell you. Especially in London when they started the Doodlebugs.’

Sadly, Netta’s first husband passed away at a young age. I looked to move the conversation on, first reflecting on some of the ground our conversation had covered so far. ‘Do you want to go right up to my age now?’ said Netta in disbelief.

‘Doodlebugs?’

‘We can skip ahead if you like,’ I replied.

‘They’re a miniature rocket they used to send over, and when the sound stopped, it dropped.’

‘It’s got to skip! Else you’ll be here all day!’

‘It must’ve been such a shock to be confronted with the war after growing up in an environment where there was safety and trust and openness.’

Netta lived in England until just before her 70th birthday when she moved to Australia to be with her daughter and three grandchildren.

‘You just imagine. For four years, we [the English] were by ourselves, before the Americans came in. And it was hard going, but we were all looking after each other; it’s the only way I can explain it.

‘What were your first impressions of Australia?’ I asked. ‘Oh, I loved it,’ said Netta. ‘John used to call it his Shangri-La. It was just a little country place. We loved it.’

‘Can you think of an example of how you looked after each other?’

John was Netta’s second husband. They married when Netta was in her thirties.

‘Oh, crikey!’ said Netta, like it was a ridiculous question. ‘No, it’s just something you know! It’s an instinct.’

‘I came to Australia in 1984. My birthday is May 11th and that year I turned 70. I thought I’d have just five more years [of life] and I’ve got 35.

During her childhood, Netta’s family enjoyed a relatively comfortable life, although perhaps not by modern standards.

‘What has that meant to you, having many more years than you expected?’

‘My father had a shop – it was a butcher. But first of all, in Bell Green House he had an off-licence [a shop licenced to sell alcohol for consumption elsewhere] and grocery store – food one side and beer the other!’

‘If you want the honest truth, I never thought about it until I came here [to Aldinga Beach Court]. Now everybody talks about my age. When I was at home, I never thought about it. Honestly! I like to forget my age,’ said Netta with a boisterous laugh that suggests she knows how ridiculous people might find that. ‘I just don’t think about it. I think about things I want to do.’

‘Sounds like a good combination!’ ‘It was,’ Netta said with a laugh.

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Our conversation then turned to Isabel, a woman that Netta has known as an acquaintance for a number of years and who now also lives at Aldinga Beach Court.

‘I do a lot of Sudoku. I use my tablet [computer]. I read books. I go to church. There’s bingo, and I attend an exercise class twice a week.’ ‘Have you found the exercise classes helpful?’

‘As an acquaintance, I knew her to be a lady. In every way. She was very well known and very well-loved. We didn’t spend a lot of time together, outside of our time at church,’ said Netta.

‘Well, yes. Before I started [attending the classes] I had very limited use of my right arm. I am now using the right arm more and the pain is more under control. It has also helped me to move around more easily.’

‘And since you both started living at Aldinga Beach Court?’

As our conversation came to a close I thanked Netta for her time. It had been another fascinating encounter with a centenarian. Although I should remember, as Netta would encourage, her age is the least important thing about her.

‘She’s definitely a friend now.’ ‘What is she like as a friend?’ Netta smiled and laughed, as though there was something I just didn’t understand. ‘You’re asking about a 102-year-old person and a 105 year old!’ ‘Do you think that’s a silly question?’ ‘It is,’ Netta replies matter-of-factly.

‘When you come in here, you come into a different life. In a way, it’s like a small village. Each room is a house. You haven’t got the same sort of things to talk about, because you’re not out. It’s just about enjoying each other’s company. ‘Isabel sees [Aldinga Beach Court] as a huge family who loves her, and she loves them.’ ‘What’s it like for you, living here?’ ‘I’m having to get used to it. I’ve always been such a busy person. I do feel contented though, a feeling of peace; that you don’t have to worry about anything. And I do like the feeling of security, that there’s always someone around who will help me if I need. And I do have massage which really helps.’ ‘What other sorts of things do you do, now that you’re living here?’ ‘Well, I do yoga. You’ve got to work at it before you can say you feel a difference – you don’t do one or two exercises, it’s by continually doing it. Now I’m having the benefit of it.

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2019 End of Year Celebration In November, over 300 Life Care staff made their way to the Stamford Grand at the Glenelg foreshore for possibly our most successful End of Year Celebration ever!

This year, the theme was “Mad Hatters”, and in response, many people went to town, dressing up in Alice in Wonderland-themed costumes of all sorts or, more simply, donning a relevant Fedora, Panama, Stetson or Boater. With the room decorated to capture the spirit of the theme – with many a Mad Hatters tea-party going on – the vibe was super-positive from the word go; by 7.30pm, the dance floor was already getting a workout and from there on the DJ was made to work for his money! A simplified awards format had been chosen in response to feedback from our staff, with five people recognised for their more than 20 years’ service to Life Care along with the ultimate Life Care Way Award being presented. A video shared the moving stories of customers from every Life Care service to the sounds of Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water; boxes of tissues were on hand and were needed by many. As the night progressed, a pumping, eclectic selection of music saw the dance floor the focus, and by the end of the night it was clear that we were ending the year on a high.

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Congratulations to our 2019 Award recipients Years of Service Awards 20 Years Bernadette Seddon Aldinga Beach Court Liz Fries Reynella Village 25 Years Sylvia Whidborne - Gaynes Park Jean Knight - Reynella Village 35 Years Janice Nockolds - Reynella Village Retiring Marie Noble (36 Years) Peter Beaumont (18 Years) Residential Worker of the Year Winner Jesi Perry - Reynella Village Community Worker of the Year Joint winners Andy Nock At Home created by Life Care Eleanor Chiew - Norman House

Life Care Way Finalists Tina George Aldinga Beach Court Brenda McGuigan Corporate Services Cezary Pawlisz Life Care Active Eleanor Chiew Norman House Isabella Hardie-Campbell - Glenrose Court Julie Stephens Gaynes Park Peter Bradley Parkrose Village Damien Pimlott Property Services Andy Nock At Home created by Life Care Jesi Perry Reynella Village Winner Julie Stephens - Gaynes Park Runner Up Peter Bradley - Parkrose Village

We thank all our sponsors for their continued and valued support: Access Pay Jarvis Cars AllFresh Fruit and Veg Healthy Collectives YNA Aidacare COS Dominant FuelCard Services Asaleo Care Total Workwear DC Signs

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Rumpus on the campus Life Care people show us what they get up to every day...

Aldinga Beach Court - Show Day â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Yellow Brick Road

Gaynes Park Manor - Visit from AFLW player Ebony Marinoff

Aldinga Beach Court - Show Day - Craft & Interests displays

Gaynes Park Manor - Visit from AFLW player Ebony Marinoff

Aldinga Beach Court - Show Day - Craft & Interests displays

Life Care Active - Visit from AFLW player Ebony Marinoff

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Gaynes Park Manor - RUOK?

Gaynes Park Manor - Bicentennial celebrations - morning tea

Parkrose Village - Christmas

Parkrose Village - A â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Miniâ&#x20AC;&#x2DC; visitor

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Reynella Village - “Wear Your PJs to Work” day

Reynella Village

Reynella Village - Celebrating Melbourne Cup

Norman House and Parkrose Village - Visit from Darcy Farm

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Glenrose Court - Celebrating Melbourne Cup

Glenrose Court - Former Crow Darren Jarman visit

At Home created by Life Care - Afternoon with Tony Modra

Norman House - Beach combing

About Life is the official publication of the Churches of Christ Life Care Inc. Would you like more information about Life Care or to receive your own copy of About Life? Contact us T 1800 555 990 E enquire@lifecare.org.au lifecare.org.au We welcome your feedback Please email feedback@lifecare.org.au or post to: About Life feedback Attn: Andrew Harvey 128 Greenhill Road Unley SA 5061

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