Stamford may be my hometown, but in many ways, I always felt like a Greenwich kid. My childhood summers were spent at Island Beach, our family went to church at St. Mary’s, and I played on the playgrounds at Bruce Park and Greenwich Common. These places are woven into the fabric of my life, but perhaps no place is more deeply connected to my family’s story than The Nathaniel Witherell.
My roots with this institution go back further than most. My great-grandmother, who owned a salon on Elm Street, volunteered at the Witherell’s salon before she eventually became a resident herself. She spent her final years there, and I was just nine days old when I made my first visit, perhaps the youngest person on the grounds that day, to see my greatgrandmother, Nellie Johann.
Decades later, at age 25, my connection to the Witherell became deeply personal. My father suffered a stroke and became a permanent resident. My younger siblings and I were thrust into the complexities of nursing home life while still figuring out our own. It was new, frightening territory. But the staff at The Nathaniel Witherell walked us through every process, answered our endless questions, and comforted us when we were scared.
For the past 10 years, they’ve been more than just caregivers; they’ve been an extension of our family. They call with updates, encourage my dad to take his medication, and have been with us for every holiday and milestone. Their jobs aren’t easy—my dad certainly keeps them on their toes—but they are always smiling, stopping to say hello, never showing if they are tired or stressed. The care they provide is a constant source of comfort and reassurance. I sleep better at night knowing he is in the best place he can be.
I truly believe The Nathaniel Witherell is a vital part of Greenwich’s culture and community. When they hold events for residents and their families, I am always in awe of the dedication of the staff and volunteers. They create seemingly small but meaningful moments of normalcy, bridging generational gaps with sweet interactions between the younger volunteers and residents.
The residents of The Nathaniel Witherell were once us. They walked the streets of Greenwich, owned local businesses, paid taxes, and raised their children here. Just because they can no longer contribute in the same ways they once did doesn’t mean we should deny them the quality of care that a well-funded public institution can provide. We should celebrate that we have the means to care for our senior residents in this capacity.
The Nathaniel Witherell is more than a nursing home; it’s a living part of our history and a beacon of compassion. We must protect it. Its mission is a reflection of our community’s values, and ensuring its future is a promise to the past, the present, and the future of Greenwich.
Christianne Rozsa
