THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, June 3, 1994 TAG: 9406020177
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
DATELINE: 940603 LENGTH: Long
Most were grey-haired, most were female and most were drinking coffee, eating donuts and engaging in deep conversation with each other.
{REST} All were waiting for one thing: the arrival of a member of the Virginia Beach Rescue Squad to pick up the $650 in proceeds from the yard sale the tenants had held a couple of weeks earlier.
The passing of the check was scheduled to take place just as soon as the squad representative arrived.
In the meantime, the group's social director, Madeline Nevala, called the meeting to order and went through the litany of activities available to those assembled.
Friday morning residents' meetings are a weekly affair at the year-old retirement community, but the successful yard sale was a first.
Residents, many of whom had moved from larger apartments and houses, had a lot of extra stuff tucked under beds and into closets. It was the kind of stuff that's still usable but definitely not necessary when one scales down the his or her way of life.
Perfect yard sale stuff, you might say.
Other residents, jumping on the bandwagon, offered crafts and homemade baked goods for sale.
Somewhere in the planning stage an auction got added to the festivities.
The results were profits on a scale that exceeded residents' expectations.
``We wanted to increase our Sunshine Fund,'' Madeleine Moen, who chaired the project, explained, ``but we decided to give some to the Virginia Beach Rescue Squad, too.''
That's the squad that serves the Silver Hill community.
Moen has firsthand knowledge of the kind of service the squad gives. ``The day I took a fall,'' she said, ``I swear they were here in three minutes.''
The squad representative wasn't quite so quick in getting to last Friday's meeting, however.
But when he did arrive a few minutes after the meeting started, it was obvious that his visit had been worth the wait. Boyish-looking Emergency Medical Technician Jim Powers, a Virginia Tech grad, Old Dominion University course taker and med school hopeful, arrived tall, tanned and outfitted in tropical whites.
Faces lit up when Powers entered the room. Nevala turned the meeting over to Moen who passed Power the check accompanied by a brief but gracious speech. He accepted the check with equal grace.
Then they exchanged a kiss for the camera. The kind you see aunts planting on the cheeks of their favorite nephews or young men giving to grandmoms who've just slipped them enough bucks to cover the cost of a new transmission or the quarterly car insurance payment.
``Anything you'd like to ask me?'' Powers asked the crowd.
``Are you really all-volunteer?'' someone wanted to know. ``Sure are,'' Powers assured her. ``The squads even buy their own equipment.''
``You mean the city doesn't buy your ambulances and you don't get any pay?'' someone else asked.
``That's right,'' Powers said, ``but they do give us the gas and maintain the building.''
That was especially impressive to those in the crowd who moved here from cities where rescue workers are paid, unionized and very expensive.
Others were impressed with Powers' assurances that they would be taken to the hospital of their choice if at all possible and with the variety of people who make up the volunteer squad.
``We've got housewives, teachers, lawyers, off-duty firefighters, an emergency room doc, just about everybody you could think of,'' he said.
``When my husband passed out, the first girl to show up came in a bikini. She'd been on her way back from the beach when she heard the call,'' a resident told him.
``Did he recover?'' another resident asked. ``Sure did,'' the first resident responded. ``If he didn't come to after looking at her, I'd have known he was in trouble,'' she added.
``Is it right to tip the people who come?'' someone asked. ``Um-m-m,'' Powers said diplomatically, ``that might be a bit of a faux pas,'' he added, ``we always carry donation cards on the truck and we'd love to give you one of those to send in.''
The residents nodded their approval of that idea and asked if they could have some to keep on hand for memorial donations and the like.
Powell promised to drop the cards by later that day, then left to a round of applause.
He and Moen sat out front for a few more minutes, discussing rescue squad protocol and fund raisers.
``I think next year we may just have baked goods and an auction,'' she mused. ``It's a lot of work to set everything up, even though we did have a lot of help.''
``The next time you schedule one of these, just call us and we'll be happy to help you with the set-up,'' Powers told her as he climbed into the rescue car with the city seal on the side and the red lights on top.
by CNB