Finding Time

By Lubna Takruri
Guardsman Staff Writer

Carol Hudson and Mr. Leech

Cradling a cake in her left arm, Carol Hudson glided through the most deplorable area of the Tenderloin to Willie Leech's building. Past the plywood entrance, through the shadowy hallways and up the elevator shaft, she brought her light into Leech's 8 by 8 foot room, if only for a little while.

Hudson had given him a magazine for his 98th birthday three weeks ago. She was disheartened to learn he can't see very well, and wasn't able to enjoy his gift. After her morning volunteer work and before afternoon classes, she read to him from the magazine, held his hand, and listened to his stories. Mr. Leech was dressed for the occasion in a starched white collared shirt, dispenser of smiles for his guest. For a man with no family and whose friends were all dead, this visitor ­ any visitor ­ was an event.

Usually, his daily contact with the world is through his two large windows. Like television, he can watch, but he can't interact with the people in the streets below. All over that city beyond the windows, Carol Hudson spends her time trying to make a difference. Despite her overloaded schedule, she manages to find time for the extra things most people brush aside with excuses.

One of Hudson's many jobs is finding people like Leech and pairing them up with volunteers who often become their only companions. In this case, Hudson took time out of her own schedule because Leech liked her.

In addition to classes at City College, Hudson holds two volunteer jobs, works as the advertising manager of the campus newspaper, The Guardsman, and sets aside time for her children.

And grandchildren. Hudson is a young 62 years old.

"Getting my degree is my number one priority," she said. Only time and her insatiable quest for helping others stand between Hudson and her goal. She insists that she must put everything but her family aside to reach this lifelong dream of hers. But she adds, "I feel guilty when I'm not volunteering."

So she spends six days a week zipping from place to place, doing it all. Her influence is evident anywhere she chooses to hover for long.

It might be easy for City College students to overlook Hudson's altruistic nature and dedication. Her petite 5-foot stature belies the magnitude of her contribution to the community. And she's an older student who not everyone may take the time to get to know in the bustle of school life.

Off-campus, she's busy illuminating elderly citizens who are often left unnoticed by society. Although she already radiates a rare benevolence, she feels that a degree will empower her to do even more.

"My education has always been a sore spot for me," she said. After high school, the regular life events piled up; marriage, three kids, and a divorce. "I had a house, I had everything, but I didn't have my education." As her awareness and concern for community issues grew over the years, this was a hurdle in her race to help others. "I thought to myself, I don't have a leg to stand on. I don't have a degree; I don't have an education. Who's going to listen to me?"

So in 1995, Hudson found City College. She added classes to her family obligations and volunteer work with the elderly and children.

Hudson spends her mornings either teaching a 2nd grade classroom at Cabrillo Elementary in San Francisco (an Americorps program), or matching lonely elders with volunteers through the Senior Companion Program. Four afternoons a week are spent on campus: classes first, meetings later.

She runs errands in the evening, if anything is still open in the neighborhood. "When I get in the door, I have to have dinner. By the time I do that, answer my messages and read my mail, it's nine o'clock. I'm going to bed at two in the morning and not getting enough sleep," she said, but is surprised ­ and amused - that it doesn't seem to affect her.

The next morning she's up and off to her hectic schedule again.

Covering her apartment are yellow post-it reminders for a City College Press Club meeting, which she founded and continues to run, or a candidate's debate, or a student government meeting. She jokes that sometimes there's even a post-it at the door, reminding her to look at the post-it on the mirror in case she forgets.

Hudson is armed with DSL at home and uses her e-mail regularly, but finds the traditional pen-and-paper method is what works best. Every two days are plotted on a handwritten "Things to Do" list that she unfolds from her purse.

"The only thing I won't rely on is a cell phone, because I don't want to be disturbed. I need that time," she said.

Perhaps her only fault is wanting to do too much.

"She's in here six to eight hours a week," said Juan Gonzales, chair of the City College Journalism Department. "You have to admire that she has so much energy and her life is driven by doing things and being involved."

Ask Hudson whether studies might be easier to handle if she cut back a bit on her volunteerism, and she will insist that holidays and semester breaks make her crazy because "there just isn't enough to do."

During the semester she rarely gets a Sunday to herself, and remembers when she had time to pamper herself and iron creases in her pants.

"I can't explain how I find the time to do all these things," Hudson said.

But she does, and Willie Leech and other senior citizens benefit from her understanding and care.

The degree will be hers someday, but it may have to wait. Hudson says she's taking her time so she can be in all the other places that need her.

"If I have one foot in the grave and a degree in my hand, that's okay," she said.