Walking With Adell

STORIES FOR THE TIMES:

At the opposite end of the hall from me lives Adell, a 96-year-old neighbor. She has live-in help from Beth, a Filipina woman who is also a good cook.

Adell used to exercise in the hallway, with her walker, assisted by Beth. When we would cross paths I would slow down and gently stroll the hall with the two of them discussing issues of the day. After a short time, I realized that we had not visited in a while so I walked down and knocked on her door.

Sure enough, while still doing well, Adell (and Beth) had decided that walking the halls was becoming more and more difficult especially with the walker (tennis balls attached) and the hallway carpeting.

Since then, I try to drop by to say hello to them every several weeks. I always bring an arm full of flowers from Trader Joe's. At first, Adell asks why I was bringing flowers and I say, "I always bring flowers to my girlfriends!" She giggles.

We visit for five or ten minutes and then I excuse myself saying, "I need to get back to my apartment to put away the groceries." I plant a kiss (with permission) on Adell's cheek and take my leave.

With this friendship (Adell, Beth, and me) comes a pleasant surprise. A knock on my door every now and then reveals Beth at my door with a bowl of Filipino recipe thin noodles, Pancit: shredded chicken, scallions, mushrooms, and mixed vegetables stir fry. Always welcome to not have to cook for myself!

Recently along with the noodles come a pile of mini deep-fried spring pork rolls.

I am grateful for the people around me (and hopefully they for me!)

A Life Unfolds

Today was the estate sale down the hall in apartment 508. It belonged to Carol and John. She passed away three years ago with a diagnosis of cancer. John never really recovered from her passing and probably had or developed a drinking problem.

Last Thanksgiving he fell down the stairs at a friends, healed slowly after a long hospital stay, lived at a rehab center paralized, never fully recovered, and died sometime in July.

Not a happy story but one so often common in so many people's story of being born, living, and having died. Lessons for all of us: Live for today as carefully as you can. Never go to bed angry with your partner. Be grateful for all you have. Know that nothing, absolutely nothing is permanent. Love is all that matters.

A side story takes place three years ago, a few days before Carol died. John and Carol came to Gregory and my building Christmas party even though she was ill, weak, and frail. I remember that she was dressed nicely but wearing her bedroom slippers.

John visited with the other guests and helped himself to Christmas cookies and a glass of wine. Carol sat on the sofa where Gregory, already advanced with his dementia, held her hand. They did not talk, they did not share, they did not eat. They just sat quietly together and held each other's hand.

Gregory retold the story a few times when we heard that Carol had died. He felt good about Carol coming to the party and at having been able to sit holding her hand.

I did not know that John had died last July until I saw the estate sale advertised in the building newsletter. I had asked the office a few times about how he was doing and tried to get an address to send him a card. But due to privacy reasons they were not able to share anything with me.

As I walked around Carol and John's condo witnessing the price tagged items of the final years of their life, I felt sad. What is a life when all that is left are the things that adorned one's surroundings. The items picked up at an art show, a gallery, on vacation, or just to fill that corner or to add to that collection.

I imagined what it would be like when Gregory and I are gone. Lots of stuff. But for now: lots of memories, lots of gratitude, lots of impermanence, a few arguments and rough times but never going to bed without telling the other, "I love you!" And that makes today easier to get through.

Santa Claus Stories

Believe!

Every year for the last few, I have let my snow white hair and beard grow long during November in preparation for passing as Santa during December.

Not only a few people have already referred to me as Santa, friends and strangers alike. In restaurants, in our building, at dinner with friends, on the street.

The other day Gregory and I were waiting for our condo elevator. A neighbor (who we do not know) was waiting outside the elevators and rushed in before us when one finally arrived. He didn't "look" right and I made a quick diagnosis of "developmentally disabled." My observations are usually pretty good based on my studies and years of experience as an educator. He was looking at the floor and was closely squeezed into the back corner of the elevator.

As the doors closed and I commented to the guy, "Those french fries sure do smell good." He was carrying a greasy bag, close to his chest, which probably came from Five Guys just around the corner from our building.

He ignored me. Seeing how withdrawn he was I discontinued my neighborly chat. When we got off, I wished him (as we usually do after brief conversations on the elevator even with people we do not know) "Have a good night!" Still no eye contact. Still no reply.

As the elevator doors closed and Gregory and I were walking away from the elevator lobby on our floor, I heard this kid whisper, "Santa!"

My heart melted.

Ruth's Memorial Service

Picture of Ruth in her later years courtesy of Patti Crews

Today was Ruth's memorial service. Approximately 25 neighbors and friends attended the service which was held in the chapel of the United Methodist Church in Evanston. Here is a video picturing the church which was designed by noted Chicago Prairie School architect Thomas E. Tallmadge: http://www.faithatfirst.com/?page_id=283. It is quite a beautiful, elegant church. It turns out that Ruth's father was a Methodist Pastor in Washington D.C. and had ties to some of the early founders of this church.

The ceremony was a fitting celebration of Ruth's life with many of the attendees telling their stories about her. Over the course of the last few days, at today's service, and at the reception afterwards many of the details of her life came into focus and were added together making the picture of Ruth more complete than any of us had experienced individually. 

For the "neighborhood crone, witch, busybody, chatty cathy" ... it is amazing how many people she touched and loved and who were loved in return by Ruth. Her memory will live on in many hearts. In her own unique way, she was a neighborhood icon and valued community member.

After all the years of her living alone without family, her grandson was found and he flew in from California to attend the celebration of her life. It gave us some closure and more structure to Ruth's life even though his involvement took place after her death. He had known her for approximately three days when he was five years old, some thirty years ago. But having him there was so important to all those who attend the day.

Afterwards a reception was held at her old house, now owned and renovated by another resident on the block. When we got there some 20 more people (plus the 25 who were at the Church) were already looking at the many of Ruth's paintings that were for sale, visiting with each other, and telling "Ruth Stories." The young husband and wife and their two very young children who will be renting Ruth's house attended as well.

In a small way, I wanted to say my goodbyes to Ruth so I baked cookies to bring to the reception. We always used to share sweets with her and she loved cookies as much as I do. Gregory and I are happy for Ruth, we are sad for ourselves.

Click here for previous post about Ruth.