From the street, Evergreen Nursing Home blends into the neighborhood. It does not announce itself loudly. There are no towering signs or heavy traffic outside its doors, just a building tucked quietly into Alamosa, passed daily by joggers, dog walkers and neighbors who may never step inside. Yet, behind those walls lives something far louder than it appears: decades of memory, resilience, joy and stories waiting to be heard.
Each morning, as I run past Evergreen, I time my route carefully. Around the same hour each day, an older man sits outside near the entrance. Sometimes he smiles. Sometimes he nods. Sometimes he simply watches the world move by. I often wonder if he is waiting for someone or if he is just enjoying the moment. That curiosity is what led me inside Evergreen and into conversations that revealed how much life continues long after people assume it has slowed.
Evergreen Nursing Home was established more than 60 years ago, making it one of the oldest nursing facilities in Alamosa. According to Activities Director David Medina, the home was originally built by the Carroll family in the early 1960s and named Evergreen in reference to Colorado’s evergreen trees.
The original floor plan was actually built in the shape of an ‘E,’” Medina said. “That shape went away as the building expanded, but the name stuck.” Today, Evergreen is a five-star facility with about 48 residents, many of whom are lifelong members of the San Luis Valley community.
While Evergreen’s history matters, its heart lives in the residents themselves, people like Thomas Desmond, a man with an extraordinary life.
Sitting down with Desmond feels like opening a book that has been patiently waiting to be read. He describes himself as private, yet as he talks, entire worlds unfold.
One of Desmond’s favorite memories is hiking through California, where he lived for 20 years, and which he still considers one of the most beautiful places in the world. “That was probably the most fun thing I’ve ever done,” he said. That time in California played a significant role in shaping who he is today.
That sense of curiosity and reflection carried over into his academic life. A major influence in Desmond’s life was his sociology teacher, even though his focus in college was English. He studied English at Merritt College in Oakland before transferring to Central Southwest State University.
When asked what he wished more people knew about him, Desmond said he enjoys writing.
Desmond has written multiple novels and a play, though none were ever published. Writing was not his only dream. Desmond once wanted to learn how to build small cabins, a goal he not only pursued but completed. After seeing a picture of Mount Blanca in a magazine, he saved his money and moved to the area, eventually building a cabin himself. That cabin still stands today, though someone else lives in it now.
Despite his travels and accomplishments, Desmond speaks most warmly about simple traditions. Christmas stands out as his favorite holiday, followed closely by Thanksgiving and Easter. He remembers one Christmas vividly, not because it was perfect, but because it was chaotic. He came downstairs to find his sisters had already torn into all the presents. “That’s the best part,” Desmond said. Desmond said his favorite gift as a child was a bicycle.
Desmond’s life stretches far beyond what one might assume from a nursing home setting. He was born overseas and spent his first 10 years living in Colombia and Venezuela. He remembers tropical plants vividly and recalls the fear that came as political unrest grew.
“There was a revolution going on,” he said. “They wanted to kick out all the foreigners, and eventually they did.” Those experiences shaped him, yet he speaks of them calmly, as if they are simply chapters in a long, unfolding story.
Like many residents at Evergreen, Desmond carries memories deeply tied to tradition.
These untold stories are exactly what David Medina believes most people miss when they think of nursing homes. “What people don’t see are the friendships,” Medina said.
“The brotherhoods and sisterhoods. The way residents look out for one another.” To him, Evergreen feels less like an institution and more like visiting a grandparent’s house, full of conversation, routine, laughter and shared history.
Medina’s role as activities director focuses on keeping residents connected to the Alamosa community. Under his leadership, Evergreen regularly welcomes musicians, church youth groups, therapy dogs and local law enforcement officers. Residents participate in activities such as bingo nights, art classes, Bible studies and even fishing trips. They attend planetarium shows, drive through wildlife refuges and take part in parades.
“They’re living their lives,” said Medina, “sometimes more than I am.”
That sense of life is especially visible during the holidays, which hold deep meaning at Evergreen. Staff members ensure residents feel remembered and valued.
“We go out of our way to make sure residents don’t feel forgotten,” Medina said. “This becomes another family.”
That feeling of family is no accident. Evergreen’s staff works intentionally to make the building feel like a home rather than an institution. Residents crochet, read, write letters, share stories and spend their time doing the same things they loved long before they moved in.
For Thomas Desmond, that continuity looks like reading constantly. “That dude can probably clear two novels in a week,” Medina said. Thomas is rarely without a book in his hands, with several more stacked nearby, waiting their turn.
What surprises people most, Medina believes, is just how alive Evergreen truly is. “We’re kind of a hidden gem,” he said.
Inside Evergreen Nursing Home, Desmond’s story is just one among many.
When Desmond was asked what message he would give his younger self, he said “I wish I would have done better in school earlier,” though he also acknowledged that college became a turning point in his life. His story is proof that paths do not need to be straight to be meaningful.
Evergreen is not just a nursing home. It is a living archive of human experience. Even in quiet places, life continues to be rich, meaningful and deeply worth knowing.
