Every Day is Game Day-A Wonderful Life

An unseasonably cold, northerly wind emanating from the arctic roared down the western plains, rushed from the backline of the north end zone of  Wildcat Stadium,  crossed the goal line of the south end zone, split the uprights, then past the “AVO” rocks—more on those later,  before touching down in the parking lot of the Mesa View Assisted Living Community.  

This wasn’t a cold Texas October afternoon. This was Minnesota cold.  I sought shelter underneath my “Hockey Day In Warroad, Minnesota” hoodie.  You’d think such a hoodie would be warm enough. It wasn’t.  

Meanwhile, an 87-year-old lifelong sports fan named Dale Litchfield braved the weather as he pushed his walker out the front door of the building.  Several residents lagged behind.  Dale proudly held his “Canadian Wildcats” flag while it snapped amid the gusts.  If he was on roller skates, Dale could have wind-surfed to Amarillo.  

He pushed the walker again as he looked towards town. Four complete rotations of the wheels forward.  Each rotation provided a better view to the north. Then five more.  He was getting antsy.  Six more.   

“Where were his friends?”

 A few residents sat near the doorway, better shielded from the wind.  Blankets were retrieved.  Other residents anxiously peered out the window from inside the warmth of Mesa View.  Several residents and staff members held signs saying, “WARNING:  WILDCAT VICTORY AHEAD.”  

Their friends were late. Thirty minutes late.  Then 40.  

More blankets.  

Consternation circulated among the residents.  “Did they forget about us?” 

The faint sound of the blasting horn from the fire truck and the siren’s wail from the other EMS vehicles followed.  Litchfield—the scout atop the hill,  heard them first.

“They haven’t left town yet!  There’s still hope.”

Then, the noises faded to a disheartening silence. 

This isn’t turning out as expected.  I was here to witness a celebration.  Instead, sadness seemed inevitable–like watching a Minnesota Vikings playoff game.

A gray squirrel on the edge of the parking lot then sat up on its haunches.  It looked towards the Wildcats water tower beyond the football field.  Then towards Dale.  Then, back at the water tower.  Then Dale.  Squirrels don’t speak English. If this one could, he’d have said, “Dale, don’t you hear them?  They’re coming!”

Sure enough, the sound of horns and sirens soon reverberated.  The flashing lights are now visible. The procession of EMS vehicles traveled past the stadium to the south side of town.

“They didn’t forget us!”

Then, the moment they’d all been looking forward to.

It was a bus.  Just a bus.  All this for a bus?  Well, not any old bus.  It was one bus, followed by another, each carrying members of the high school band as they departed Canadian to compete in a statewide competition in Odessa.  Smiles and waves ensued.  Some from the seniors of Mesa View.  Some from the seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen of Canadian High School.  Reciprocating happiness. 

This was neither “just a bus” nor a token ceremony.  It was evidence.  One more clue of something unique going on here.  It’s only 10 am, but the case against Canadian is building.  It’s the second time I’ve seen a different version of the same thing—older humans supporting younger humans, younger humans inspiring older humans.  Today, at Mesa View, it was the band. Other times, it’s the girl’s cross country team, boys’ basketball, track, softball, or girls’ basketball.  But this is Texas—shouldn’t this festivity be reserved for football?  Nope.  There’s a wide variety of kindness-accomplices roaming this town.

I looked at the bus.  Then, at Dale.  Then, at the other residents.  The squirrel probably thought I was trying to take over its job.  Earlier,  I observed anticipation and consternation.  Minutes later, everything had changed.  Those buses didn’t just deliver the band.  They delivered happiness.  The pure, unfiltered kind.  Pure happiness.  

Can I describe this as cute?  I’ll go with it.  It was cute. 

The residents of Mesa View don’t just see the faint images of kids through the tinted windows.  The residents see themselves on that bus.  Years ago.  Vintage bus.  Window seat.  Dirt roads. Every bump.    PB&J in a brown paper bag.  The “Welcome to (our town)” sign.  A dot on a map now coming to life.  The exact destination for them then as for these kids now—those venues built to allow everyone to do one thing:

Play. 

Someone organized all this so we could go have fun.  Then and now. 

When those kids look out the windows and wave, they see folks in their current stage of life.  They see Betty, the woman who told me an hour ago about the fun she and the other girls in her hometown of Darrouzett, 40 miles north of Canadian, had playing basketball, softball, and tennis back in the1940s.  

Decades before  “NIL” opened the floodgates of athletes transferring from one school to the next, Betty told of a coach in Darrouzett who influenced several girls from Tulia, Texas, to transfer to Darrouzett to play basketball.  These girls were good athletes. 

“Our girl’s team was better than the boys!” Betty proudly proclaimed.

The kids on the bus don’t see that Betty.  But this Betty is that Betty.  She still has that competitive spark.  She understands that feeling of riding the bus and stepping onto the field or court to compete.  It never goes away.  

They don’t see Dale Litchfield playing high school football 70 years ago in Higgins, Texas, or Dale watching his older sisters compete while playing basketball back in the 1930s.  

But this Dale is that Dale.

Betty and Dale still wish they were on that bus.  Short of that, they are so appreciative of the connection they have with the younger generation of Canadian students and athletes.  When I suggested that it has to make them feel good that they are still remembered,  their confirmations were expressed with decibel-elevated expressions of happiness.

Some Mesa View residents and staff members held signs containing two words:  “ALL IN.”   Five little letters of the alphabet were assembled in a sequence that encapsulated everything I observed.  

Those kids don’t understand.  They can’t.  It’s not their fault. The depth of this connection will eventually register.  Even at age 65, I struggled to find the best word to describe it.  I racked my brain for a clever word but settled on an ordinary one.

Community.

One definition of that word is “a group of people with a common characteristic or interest living together within a larger society.”

Two words resonate for this occasion:  “living together.”  

Living this life is most definitely a shared experience down here.  Months have passed since my first day in Canadian.  While describing this place, I keep typing Mesa View, Mesa View, Mesa View.  I’ve been leaving out the important part:

Assisted Living.

That’s precisely what’s going on here.  It’s not just the staff members assisting the residents.  The kids, coaches, band directors, bus drivers, and EMS drivers are in on it too.  Each time they drive by or stop in, they improve someone else’s life.  

They bring the words “assisted living” to life.  They make it real.  In their own way, assisting each other to make the best of this day.  Good living.  Darn good living. 

As we all walked back inside, I took another look outside.  The squirrel was gone.  She’d done her job here.  Comforted that she’d served her purpose of bringing people together.  Checked this one off her to-do list.  Now, off to do some other squirrel things.

Everyone is in on it.  Even that thoughtful squirrel. 

Before those buses arrived, I was allowed to meet the leadership team and some of the residents of Mesa View.  I asked the residents what life lessons they’d share with the kids in Canadian.  Their advice was simple and timeless: 

• Make the most of each day
• Winning is important, but it’s not everything.  
• We all have to learn how to overcome adversity.
• Always be preparing yourself for what’s next.
• When it’s over, move on.
• There’s no place like home.

Several residents will hop into the community’s van for a short trip down to the football field tonight.  It’s Senior Night.  The Tulia Hornets are in town to play the Wildcats in the final home game of the season—the sentimental,  final home game for the Wildcat seniors.

Everyone is governed by general seating assignments at Wildcat Stadium.  The band would sit right there if they weren’t in Odessa.  The hometown fans will sit here.  The visiting fans over there.  Intermingling is allowed, but we all understand the territorial and tribal nature of humans.  Who would dare think to invite those out-of-towners to sit amongst us? 

One corner of Wildcat Stadium is off-limits to the general public.  It’s the southwest corner of the field where, in a few months, high school athletes will race by on their timed 200 and 400-meter sprints.  The residents of Mesa View can reliably be found sitting comfortably right there—on the track. 

One of those sitting beside the south end zone tonight was Joyce Cross.  Her husband looked down on the field from the north end zone.  I should clarify.  It’s a statue of her late husband, Bill Cross, overseeing every Wildcat Stadium event.  Known as “The Canadian Comet,” Bill grew up in Canadian, played football at West Texas University, then three years for the NFL’s Chicago Cardinals, and another year for the Toronto Argonauts of the Canadian Football League.  He later served as a school teacher in Canadian before retiring in 1989.

Joyce here.  Bill there.  Where are the Hallmark Movie cameras?  Man, this is nice.  Wholesome.  Yes, wholesome. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken or written that word.  Never found the right opportunity.  

Tonight, I did.

Earlier in the day, Coach Cavalier spoke of the residents of Mesa View.  “There are no bigger football fans of the Canadian Wildcats than those folks up there.”   I’d soon see an abundance of supporting evidence.  In advance of the season opener, several residents created brief, TikTok-like videos to encourage the football team for the upcoming year.

Cavalier was right.  But the opposite also seems true.  There seem to be no bigger fans of the residents of Mesa View than those students down there at Canadian High School. 

Peas and carrots.  Salt and pepper.  Macaroni and cheese. 

In recent months, in addition to various athletic teams stopping by on their way to out-of-town games, the traffic between that high school and this community included: 

• The Homecoming Parade drove by Mesa View on September 18.  The parade paused long enough for approximately 20 boys and girls from the CHS Drama Department to perform a dance routine in the parking lot for the residents.
• On October 15, 2024,  as part of Community Give Back Day, the Wildcat Theater Group dropped by to offer theatrical and musical performances.  They’d done the same on October 18, 2023. Mesa View residents gushed about the talent of the pianists.  “Six or seven of them took turns playing, and they were really good!” 
• On October 31–Halloween, the girls cross country team on their way to State.  On a video shared to the Mesa View Facebook page, Dale Litchfield can be heard yelling, “GO SCARE ‘EM,  “GO SCARE ‘EM!!”
• The Boy Scouts stopped by on December 10, 2024, to play Bingo with the residents.

I’d been caught in a trap. My thoughts of assisted living have always been falsely limited to a one-way street narrative—residents being served by staff members and some members of the community.  

Assisted living at Mesa View actively goes both ways—an interactive experience. Yes, exceptional staff members care for the residents.  But here, residents look forward to their opportunities to engage with and encourage others. They have much to give—and they give it.  The Canadian Independent School District students are the benefactors. 

That’s not typically grandma and grandpa there at Mesa View.  The students and residents don’t often share last names.  Initially, they only share a zip code.  Then, maybe share their names when Betty, Katie, Dale, Ben, and Peggy meet Max, Clay, Luke, Emiliano, and Wyatt.  Then, they share their time and their stories.  Eventually—following one crossing of paths after another, they might have shared memories of each other.  Ultimately, the stuff that makes the best of this world go round—their shared concern for each other. 

It’s not just a bus passing by.  

Residents of Mesa View are part of the Canadian educational and athletic experience. They aren’t obligated to sit outside in the cold.  They choose to be there—emotionally and physically invested.  I saw them support and encourage their local high school band to have fun and win that contest down in Odessa.  A heck of a boost to the students sitting on those warm, comfortable buses.

What a selling point. 

“I hope you enjoyed seeing one of our apartments.  Now let’s go to the cafeteria where everyone’s favorite—fried shrimp is on today’s menu. After that, six pianists from the high school are stopping by to share their latest musical renditions.  You’ll be getting to know them quite well.”

Back the moving trucks up.  I’m moving in. 

Fifty, sixty, and seventy years from now, if those kids—wherever they might be, have a Mesa View experience, they’ll understand.  These kids will grow old, lose family members and friends.  Their big world will get smaller.  More isolated.  More alone.  Then this.  A school like this.  Kids like these.  Busses like those.  When they sit not on that bus but on a comfortable bench beside a shady tree, or in a wheelchair, or stabilizing themselves with a walker, then they understand how incredible this dynamic is.  

Young and old, same place, same time, same life.  Assisting each other.

Neil Peart, songwriter, drummer, and leader of the rhythm section of the band “Rush,” captured the distance between that bus and Litchfield’s Wildcats banner best. 

“The future disappears into memory

With only a moment in between

Forever dwells in that moment

Hope is what remains to be seen.”

The future disappears into memory—a perfect synopsis of our lives.  Five words to describe it all.  Lives at each end of the spectrum.  Dale and Betty’s past—the horn section’s future.  As Betty said earlier today, “Where did the years go?”

Those moments are our forever.  This morning, I watched those folks share special moments with each other.  

Before leaving, I was taken on a tour of the building.  This included the entertainment room in the basement. It’s a beautiful room with stadium seating reminiscent of a modern movie theater.  They gather here to watch important stuff like streaming Wildcat football games, Texas state football championships, and Super Bowls.  I thought, “This is a heck of a man cave.”  I noticed a poster on the wall as I left that room.  Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed were pictured.  This was a poster for the classic movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” 

I’d seen this movie several times but asked an artificial intelligence tool named “Grok” to describe the movie’s theme.  Among other things, it replied with:

“The overall theme of the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” is the profound impact of individual lives on the community and the value of altruism, kindness, and personal sacrifice.”

I had to laugh.  This place is that movie.  

How fitting that the final takeaway from this planned 20-minute, now two-hour-long visit to the Mesa View Assisted Living Community is the title of that movie.   In light of recent events and the unknowns ahead, it’s a good thing to have stuck in my head.  

It’s a wonderful life.  

It’s a wonderful life. 

It indeed has been, and will continue to be a wonderful life. 

I’m getting hungry. The buzz provided by the morning’s Fruit Loops has worn off.  I gotta go.  Before I do, I should let you know we’re not done with Mesa View Assisted Living.  I’ll take you back there one more time. But first, I have a few other stories to tell.