Lt Donna Riguidel
Assistant Wing Public Affairs Officer

“We encourage them to make it as homey as possible, but in the end, it’s still an institution,” says Rosie Sikora, manager Recreation and Volunteer Services, Deer Lodge Centre.

Deer Lodge Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba is a combination of a personal care unit and a chronic care hospital – with a special mandate to care for veterans.

“We have 155 beds that we reserve for veteran’s needs. Only if there are no veterans in need are those occupied by civilians,” explains Ms. Sikora.

For the past six year’s, 17 Wing’s 402 ‘City of Winnipeg’ Squadron has lead the charge to help address the needs of the veterans residing at Deer Lodge.

The Squadron’s Adopt-A-Vet program focus’ on addressing the needs of the veterans residing at the Centre who may not have family or the financial means to buy some of the simple luxuries of life.

Mr. George Stetina, a civilian Administration Clerk with 402 Squadron, started the program by asking Ms. Sikora for names of veterans without families or financial means to provide some Christmas joy. Last year, the scope of the program changed.

“George said to give him the list of all of the veterans, over 150 people. He also said to encourage the members to ask for whatever they want, not only what they need. They met every request, even the ones for televisions and mini-fridges,” Ms. Sikora said.

This year, the list includes about 157 residents, and the requests include some big-ticket items like a La-Z-Boy chair and flat-screen televisions.

But who is this program serving?

I went to Deer Lodge, with the purpose of interviewing some of the Veterans.

When you step off the elevator on the seventh floor, the doors open to a bright, sun-filled hallway.

Although it is quite clearly a personal care unit, designed to take care of seniors that can no longer live on their own, there are clear efforts to remind the residents of the life outside of these halls.

There are decorations on the walls, and the calendars helpfully displayed in each room detail the day-to-day activities.

With some guidelines, there are very few restrictions on what each person can do to decorate their rooms.

The first room I entered was that of Mr. Basil Hall, an 87 year old Second World War vet.

On his wall was a framed memory box, featuring his medals, rank, photos and even a newspaper article from the local paper. He also had full shelves, a neatly made bed and a mess of newspapers and cardboard on the floor and his lap.

“You can make anything out of cardboard,” he confided in me with a twinkle in his eye.

He graciously agreed to turn the television off and was happy to chat, although he was a little unsure what we were going to talk about.

Mr. Hall is a decorated veteran, who served as a wireless air gunner and did the majority of his training right here in Manitoba. Prior to living at Deer Lodge, he lived on Winchester Street in St. James, for 75 years.

He enlisted as a young man, at 18.

“At that age, you see a lot of uniformed members on the street and they were all going, so you joined up,” he said.

He already had some training in telegraph and teletype, so by the time he went for training, the instructors cut it short.

“When I went, they found out I knew more than most of the other guys,” he said.

He was also quite speedy with his Morse code.

“They actually had me slow down. They said the standard was fourteen words a minute and I had to be the standard too,” Mr. Hall chuckled.

Mr. Hall, although not a pilot, flew often in various aircraft, including the Tiger Moth. His personal favourite?

“The Dakota was my favourite,” Mr. Hall smiles.

Living at Deer Lodge, he spends his leisure time making crafts and also sometimes tends to the monument in the lobby.

“It’s just some plastic flowers, but they didn’t use to have anything there,” he explains.

Mr. Hall is a decorated veteran, who served as a wireless air gunner and did the majority of his training right here in Manitoba.

Prior to living at Deer Lodge, he lived on Winchester Street in St. James, for 75 years.

The next gentleman that welcomed me into his room was Mr. William Bowerman. Mr. Bowerman’s room was sparser, with fewer decorations on the walls. His shelves included

encyclopaedias and books on religion and ancient history. On his table was a stained glass of his former ship – HMCS Antigonish.

“I brought that out to show you,” Mr. Bowerman explains.

He was a navy man, joining the same service as twenty of the thirty boys from his football team.

“I think we were all just trying to escape the army,” he laughs.

He spent the majority of his service time near the Halifax harbour, listening for German subs, replaying through sub stations.

“German subs were taking their toll, especially on tankers,” he explains.

He was a Navy Communications Special Operator and he joined when he was 18.

The navy was known as a place of severe discipline, but that didn’t discourage him, although he never really loved the navy.

“We used to tell guys – that’s a really tight ship, if we knew where they were going,” he said.

He also remembers being back in Winnipeg after going through some training.

“We marched around the streets of Winnipeg, singing dirty songs. It was funny; you had to remember to clean up your act when you got home. You may forget when your mom calls

you down for breakfast and say something you’d get in trouble for later,” he said.

After serving a year in the Navy, he was discharged and went back to school at University of Western Ontario.

“I wanted to be a journalist, but I was a bum,” he laughs.

Instead he went into teaching and taught in Beaverton, Ontario. He has lived at Deer Lodge for a year.

With his books so organized, it is easy to see he has continued his reading and admits to sometimes still pulling out his MA to work on.

“It may be time to just give it up,” he admits.

He also explained that one frustration of living in personal care is the slow deterioration of some skills.

“I find I am losing my language, my vocabulary. I have to reach for some words now,” he said.

Mr William Bowerman, above, was a Navy Communications Special Operator and he joined when he was 18.

That’s one way the gifts from the program can mean so much – it’s a personal contact from the world outside these walls, something that the residents here cherish and crave.  For a few

the requests are large, like the flat-screen or the La-Z-boy chair, for others, it’s much simpler and tailored to the individual.

“Last year, one of the gentlemen was really interested in one of the economic publications, and someone gave him a subscription, he was so excited,” Ms. Sikora says.

Leaving this building, I stopped to look at the monument; carefully decorated by one of the men I had the privilege of meeting.

The flowers, plastic and bright, stood proudly in the pots below the monument for the Victoria Cross recipient Sgt. John Robert Osborn.

I considered the two men I had met.

One was handy with cardboard, quick with a smile and sometimes lost track of the conversation.

He would laugh with embarrassment and was gracious with my questions and request for photo.

The other, former English teacher, educated, with a calm, cultured voice and patient demeanour, seemed amused by my questions. He never showed the frustration he admitted to

feeling at losing his words.

Both men so different, but sharing a common home, a common need for personal contact, and a common service - To our country during war.