Common bond

CELINA - Elden Houts slowly moved a spoonful of vegetables toward his wife's lips, waiting patiently for her mouth to open.

"There you go," the 84-year-old retired banker said with a satisfied grin as she eventually swallowed the food.

Marjorie Houts, the woman he promised 63 years ago to love and cherish for a lifetime, is no longer the vibrant mother and piano teacher of years ago. She has Alzheimer's disease and has lost her vision.

About 2 1/2 years ago, when he no longer could care for her at home, she became a resident of Miller Place in Celina.

The couple's story was like so many others until Elden Houts met Joe Barhorst and Charlie Gaerke. Their wives also have serious forms of dementia and in the last year became residents at the facility.

A bond quickly formed among the men.

"We found so many similarities. We're all farm boys, we've all had the same experiences growing up and we all got into the same kinds of trouble as kids," Houts said with a laugh.

Sharing their childhood memories brings lots of ornery smiles. But sharing the ups and downs of their wives' illnesses and the impact on their own lives helps them cope each day, Barhorst, 82, of Philothea said.

"Our friendship makes it more bearable. We know what our wives have is incurable," he said during a recent interview at Miller Place.

His 80-year-old spouse, Wilma, has been at the facility one year. After raising a son and four daughters, she had worked for 20 years in the fabric department of the local Walmart, Joe Barhorst said.

"When I look back, this (dementia) was brewing already three or four years ago," he said.

Barhorst, who retired from the former New Idea plant in Coldwater, said he was an acquaintance of the Gaerkes of Fort Recovery for years; their homes are just two miles apart. The men now carpool to Miller Place each afternoon and stay for several hours.

"We've all three got the same problem and we know a lot of the same people," Barhorst said. "I don't think we could have it any better than this. I really look forward to coming here."

Much of the time he has trouble understanding what his wife says, so conversations are limited, he said. Still, he dreads saying good-bye each night to the woman he wed 61 years ago.

"It's not easy," he said in a quiet and emotional voice.

Charlie Gaerke, 89, is a longtime farmer whose first wife died decades ago. Betty Gaerke also was a widow when the two married 45 years ago.

"We have 11 children between us," he said proudly.

He, too, said the support from Barhorst and Houts has helped him through some tough times. It's also kept him from standing out in a facility where the gender is mainly female.

"I'd hate to be the only man around here," he said with a smile.

He's always glad to see his sweetheart even though she sleeps much of the time, he said. Like the other men, the hardest part is going home without her.

"Living by myself ... yes that's hard, but that's part of life," he added.

The staff at the facility initially tried to seat the men and their wheelchair-bound wives at the same table in the general dining room.

"It became a parking problem with all the wheelchairs," Houts said.

So each day the men wheel their spouses into a private dining area where they feed them. While wiping up occasional spills, the guys discuss the weather, their families and other topics of the day.
Pam Prater, executive director of Miller Place, said the relationship the men have established is unusual but so beneficial to all.
"I've never seen three gentlemen come together like this and give this amount of support for each other," she said. "They're truly a unique group."
Houts' daughter-in-law, Vickie Houts of Columbus, said the elderly men are providing a valuable lesson to their many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren by the very visible expression of compassion they show their wives.

"Our children ... they see that," she said. "They see what a godly marriage looks like."

Her husband, Chris, said the actions of his father and the other spouses send a loud and clear message of love, faith and understanding.

"It's the heritage they're leaving for our kids," he said.