... continued from part 1

ABOUT HIS PAST

Jim never discussed the orphanage in the early years of his marriage. But his childhood feelings surfaced in other ways.

The first home the Wests bought in Dallas was red-brick. "It reminded me of the orphanage," Jim says. "I didn't want to live there." So they painted the house white and the window shutters yellow.

Claire and Steve both rode hunter jumpers and show jumpers as children. So the family had a series of horses. But although Jim had always dreamed of having a pony, he was initially terrified of the large animals his children rode.

Jim only began to confront his past when his daughter started asking him about it. "He always felt different, and he always felt apart," says Claire, 36. "I wanted to know about my father."

So Jim began telling his children about life at Bellefaire. But even so, says Steve, the memories were sugarcoated. "He always had positive spins on them and positive endings," he says. "Over the last few years, he's gotten a lot more forthright about the reality of growing up in the orphanage."

Claire and Steve are both married and have children of their own. Neither lives in Texas. But every weekend, Steve remembers his father's stories about the Sunday movies, about the long walks afterward.

He dials his father's number and says, "I know it's Sunday night. I just called to say hi."

THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Liz was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy right after Claire was born. The disease has progressed slowly, but she broke her leg in 1995 and hasn't walked since.

The Wests used to go to equestrian shows to see their horse compete. But the disease has made it harder for them to travel.

In 1984, with both kids out on their own, Jim and Liz built their retirement home in the Prestonwood Lake neighborhood. They could adapt the 2,800-square-foot house to Liz's needs as her illness got worse. They planned to live out their lives there.

And they quickly became favorites among their neighbors. One of them, Milli Brown, was recently divorced when she moved to Prestonwood Lake. One lonely day she took a walk around the lake that is the heart of the neighborhood.

"This kindly old man and his little dog Sara came up to me and started talking to me," Ms. Brown says. "He made me feel so welcome. Neighbors make or break neighborhoods. He represented the whole neighborhood. I don't think he knows he's the ambassador for Prestonwood Lake. ... I'm not the only one that he has made feel this way."

But once more, the Wests' lives were on the brink of change.

Fifteen years ago, Liz developed diabetes. In the last several years, she has had a heart attack and been treated for cancer. Despite the hardships, Liz's outlook remained practical. "Our generation grew up with 'You don't complain,' " she says.

When Liz was diagnosed with cancer, her oncologist told her to express her anger. "I'm not angry," she says. "I figured it could have been worse. It could have been a terminal terrible cancer that couldn't be treated. I was lucky. You just keep going. It doesn't do any good to moan and bitch and complain."

Two years ago, Jim developed a tremor in his right arm. The diagnosis was Parkinson's disease.

PASSAGES

At 76, Jim says that life is about passages. "How to accept them and go through them gracefully. My biggest challenge is to go through this one with as much grace and ease as I've done the previous ones. I need to. Liz needs me."

Liz listens as Jim sings a few songs from his CD at a going-away party thrown by their neighbors at Prestonwood Lake. He wants to make another CD later this year, "before I fall on my face."

Maxine, Jim's sister, was ill and homebound for 10 years. But the memory of Bellefaire prevented her from ever looking for an appropriate nursing home. When she began suffering from dementia in 1998, her children had to make the decision for her. They placed her in a nursing home. "We learned a lesson from my sister ... We would rather make a decision before it [is] made for us," Jim says.

Last spring, he and Liz gave away many of their things and moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Signature Pointe on the Lake, a Dallas retirement health-care facility. The master bedroom is furnished with a lift that gives Liz access to the bathroom.

The apartment itself is an independent living unit. But Signature Pointe is a full health-care facility, as well, so in the future, when Liz and Jim can't care for themselves, they will have all the help they need.

On a recent afternoon, Jim and Liz sit in their bedroom and look through scrapbooks from their Vegas days. An autograph on a photo of four handsome faces reads: To Jim, a longtime friendship. All the best. Sincerely, The Mills Brothers.

A yellowing flyer announces: Don Rickles, Opening Tuesday. "Rickles played center field," Jim says, recalling weekend softball games.

Then there are the wedding photos, with Jim and Liz walking down the church aisle toward their life together.

In the apartment living room, the books have been shelved. The dining table and sofa are in place. And Jim's beloved owl collection has been placed across tables and counters.

These are his things, but it doesn't feel like home -- not yet. For Jim, living here brings up all those old fears of loneliness and isolation, of having to once again depend on the care of others.

"I feel guilty that we had to [move], which was due mostly to me," says Liz, now 67. "Places are important to him and they're not to me. I love our house, but I don't really care where we live as long as we're together." Jim looks around the apartment and says, "I'm having -- it's a tough time. ... Elizabeth needs me; she needs more things than she's needed. And so we have to anticipate."

The Parkinson's, he says, "is beginning to evince itself. It's sneaking up on the scene, as it were. I feel like I'm walking like a duck sometimes. I'm grateful to say it hasn't affected the speech yet."

In fact, in the early '90s, Jim recorded the CD he always dreamed of, just for friends and family. He plans to record another one later this year. "I'll do it before I fall on my face," he says.

Three years ago, he went to a Bellefaire reunion. It was cathartic to see his old classmates, to realize that he and Maxine had been well-cared for, in spite of their loneliness.

So this summer he attended another reunion. But this one gave him mixed feelings. "This is like old spilt milk. I've moved on," he says."I've made my peace with it."

But he can't shake the other feelings. "I think the overriding thing that came out of the orphanage experience is that everything is so impermanent to me, that I think if something good happens, it's not going to last."

THE PARTY

It's a rainy summer evening -- a few days after the Wests move into the retirement home -- when Jim wheels Elizabeth into Milli Brown's home at Prestonwood Lake.

At the going-away party hosted by Milli Brown (right) in the wests' neighborhood, Jim West finally got the pony he always wanted, at least temporarily.

They don't know a surprise party awaits them. But as they cross the foyer, the lights blink on and everyone in the room cheers and raises a flute of champagne.

A friend gives them a scrapbook and certificate that designates them honorary lifetime members of the neighborhood association. Jim takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes.

Then, Ms. Brown leads Jim to a window. In the back yard stands a miniature brown and white horse. Its name is Fantasy. Liz and Jim's friends only borrowed it for the evening, but it's their gesture of love.

Jim peers out the window and says, "Oh my God! Oh my God! He is beautiful. Liz, he's gorgeous."

And, making his way through a crowd of friends, he steps outside and puts his arms around the pony.

janet paterson
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