'It's good to be home'

Two months after blast, familiarity breeds content

DANVERS -- As soon as he entered the doors at the New England Home for the Deaf, resident Daniel Kerr let go of his walker and punched his fist in the air.

"I'm so happy," Kerr squealed yesterday , before excitedly fluttering his hands in sign language. "Everything's been fixed. It's all back."

Wearing a pink sweatsuit, Ada Zito, 92, wiggled her hips and waved her arms in a victory hula dance.

And a married couple, Lois and Henry Finocharo, who are both deaf and blind, snuggled up in the back of the dining room, gently cupping each other's hands as they communicated by feeling each other use sign language.

"She's my other half," Henry, 82, a former woodworker from Providence, said through an interpreter. "It's good to be home."

It is two months today since the 60 mostly elderly residents were jolted from their beds on Nov. 22 by what felt like an earthquake that collapsed the ceilings and sent shards of glass flying. Since the industrial explosion, which happened at 2:45 a.m. nearly 200 yards away from the home, most of the group had been living out of boxes in a vacant ward of the Beverly Rehabilitation and Nursing Center, while others went to other nearby facilities or home to their families.

Most were left stunned, frustrated, and homesick, staff members said.

"This is a moment we've all been waiting for," said Dr. Barry Zeltzer, the home's executive director.

"I feel like I'm still in shock, but I am just thankful that no one was hurt and we were able to bring them back. I'm just glad it's over."

Authorities are still investigating the cause of the chemical explosion at a building housed by two companies, CAI Inc. , a privately held company that manufactured inks, and paint maker Arnel Co .

Six houses were demolished in the blast, and more than 100 residents have yet to return to their homes, town officials said last week.

Since the blast, hundreds of thousands of dollars have been used to repair broken windows and doors, tear out damaged carpets, and fix cracked walls, ceiling tiles, and light fixtures at the Home for the Deaf, Zeltzer said.

The three-level home, which was established 105 years ago and which had Helen Keller, the renowned deaf and blind author and activist, as a board member in the 1900s, has special meaning to this group.

For Lois and Henry, it is the place where they met, got married, and made their home for the past 15 years.

"I missed it so much," Lois, 83, signed. "I missed my bed. I missed the food."

It is here where her doting husband reads the newpaper, which is written in brail, to her every morning, and sometimes she falls asleep, nurses add.

For Zito, the home means freedom to her.

"Oh, I love it here," she signed, while she ate Danish and cheese. "I can do what I want to do. I can walk outside, look for a boyfriend. I want somebody handsome, with some money, a little bit rich who can take me out to have a good time."

Eunice Fox, a deaf volunteer who helps out at the home, was just as emotional as the residents who spent their afternoon playing volleyball with balloons, getting reaquainted, and finally redecorating their rooms.

"This is wonderful," Fox mouthed as she signed. "To see them all come in with smiles. It's been a long road."