PSU Magazine Winter 1987

arranged to work as a volunteer nurs– ing assistant at St. Christopher's Hos– pice, one day a week on the men's ward, one on the women's. She made beds, gave baths, helped with health procedures, or sat holding the hand of a dying patient. "It was the first time I had given personal care for people," says Joan, who graduated from Smith College in 1954 with a degree in music and a Phi Beta Kappa key. "When I was young I didn't have those 'nursing feelings'," she says, smiling briefly. Silent for a few moments, she gazes through her windows to the woods beyond, arranging her thoughts. "At St. Christopher's you were with people as they died. You knew that the care given to them had created a peaceful, comfortable time just before their death. "I learned why this kind of work isn't depressing, that taking care of other people with other people who are also working gently, efficiently and lovingly is anything but depressing. Sad .sometimes, but full and rich." A fter returning to Portland,Joan's keen interest in hospice work quickly took a larger, more def– inite shape. She became director of volunteers for the Visiting Nurse Asso– ciation hospice team, eventually assembled a group to begin Hospice House in Portland, and finished her thesis for a master's degree in psychology. Joan can readily name those in the PSU Psychology Department who were especially interested in her work and gave her encouragement: "Cathy Smith, Dave Cressler, Hugo Maynard, Barbara Stewart, and the late Walter Klopfer. Their classes were useful and exciting, and they became friends," she says. "Walter Klopfer was very generous in letting me bring thesis drafts to him, even though he was on sabbatical." Joan's thesis examined the effect of a dying parent on young children. Shortly afterwards she finished a second project through the PSU Insti– tute on Aging, sharing a grant with Margaret Neal and Diana White to complete a study on terminal care for the aging. "I enjoyed the research I Sam takes a break from playing on the grounds ofHospice House to haveJoan scratch his ears. did with them," she says. "We inter– viewed dying people, their family members, care givers and bereaved families. Our perception of what dying people needed and wanted became clarified." Margaret Neal, an assistant profes– sor of urban studies at PSU, and member of the Hospice House Board of Directors, recalls Joan's immense contribution to the study. "She was able to see the issues clearly because of her experience at St. Christopher's," she says, "and she aided so much in interpreting the data. "Also, she has a great ability to draw people out. She's a very empathetic person. Her compassion, keen mind, warmth and energy make her a person with whom anyone can relate. And she has tremendous commitment." ThroughJoan's powerful commit– ment and hard work, Hospice House has grown from a modest office to the comfortable in-patient facility that opened its doors in mid-September. In addition to caring for patients there, Hospice House staff and volunteers also work in people's homes, offer counseling, and conduct educational programs for children and adults. Joan observes, "It's hard to do hos– pice work happily and well if you don't have joy in life," but it's evident that her own joy in life runs deep, and begins with her own family, whose pic– tures dot her office. Her children Tom, 31, Hester, 29, and Dexter, 27, are married and settled elsewhere, and she has three grandchildren. "We're a close family who have been at least a PSU MAGAZINE PAGES thousand miles apart," she says, smiling. "But we visit frequently." She spends her free time mush– rooming, gardening, writing, and read– ing novels and biographies. "And I love to cook!" she says. Periodically she and her husband leave their Northwest Portland home and head for their cabin in Government Camp. "I enjoy spending time in the moun– tains," she says. "You can get into hospice work so hard-people extend themselves and then they stop. Tom and I have taken a lot of time together, purposefully, for camping trips." In looking back over her child– hood-she was born in Worcester, Massachusetts-Joan describes her parents as "astounding peopk" Her younger brother and sister are retarded, and she remembers this being hard on her parents. "In some ways I grew up an only child," she says. She speaks tenderly of her father, Dexter K. Strong, who died in 1985 of cancer at the age of 78. Picking up the black leather framed photo of him she keeps in her office, she explains that he received hospice services. "I was on the family end of hospice, instead of the providing end," she says. "I felt that we got what we needed during that time." Her father was an ardent supporter ofJoan's efforts to bring Hospice House to completion. Now that her Hospice House dream has been fulfilled, she reflects on the lessons of her experience. "It's made me more aware of being glad to be alive," she says, "but I also know that death is not the worst thing that can happen. You want to be able to look back and feel you lived as best you could. Those factors aren't success or fame, but single days. If you haven't lived those single days it's not going to be a very happy view in retrospect." Joan Strong Buell is living those single days, and her special gift is in helping others live them to the fullest, too. With wisdom, compassion and purpose, she's keeping the lights of love burning every single day, in the true spirit of Christmas. rsu (Dana Holmes is a Portland free-lance writer and photographer)