Two Retirees Find Purpose at Hospital Gift Shop

Retirement was supposed to be the end of work. For two women at a Georgia hospital, it became the beginning of something better.

Margie Crawford, 69, and Corky Bowers, 77, spend their weeks at the gift shop inside Wellstar Kennestone Medical Center. They ring up balloons for new parents, help grandparents choose their first gift for a newborn, and sometimes just listen when customers need someone to care.

Bowers worked in medicine and retail for decades before retiring. She wanted to stay connected to healthcare without the heavy responsibility. Now she volunteers four hours every Wednesday, and the moments she witnesses stay with her long after she goes home.

Crawford's path to volunteering started in childhood, helping her mother pack care packages for soldiers during Vietnam. After her husband died seven years ago, her weekly shift became even more important. Without it, she says, her life "would be pretty lonely."

She's prayed with overwhelmed new mothers. She's watched families return week after week while loved ones heal. She stocks shelves and orders inventory, but mostly, she notices people.

Sunny's Take

Dr. German Reyes, a behavioral health expert at Wellstar, says what Crawford and Bowers discovered isn't just nice. It's essential. When people retire, they often lose structure, identity, and social connection all at once.

Purpose, he explains, is the strongest predictor of well-being in retirement. Without it, depression often follows. Volunteering restores both schedule and meaning, aligning daily life with values like service and generosity.

The hospital needs volunteers more than ever. Before COVID-19, Kennestone had 400 volunteers. After pausing the program for two years, only half returned. Many were older adults in high-risk groups who decided not to come back.

Amy Saye, who directs volunteer services at Wellstar, says the volunteers who stayed make all the difference. Crawford and Bowers show up week after week, turning a retail space into something warmer. They make real connections with every person who walks through the door.

The gift shop raises money for the hospital through the Wellstar Foundation, but its real value is harder to measure. There's no paycheck, Saye says, but there's something she calls "the volunteer high."

Crawford understands exactly what that means. Families don't need to know her name, she says. They just need to know somebody cared.