Keys

 

My parents bought their house in 1975.  We got new neighbors in 1976.  The adults became great friends.  They socialized quite a bit.  Mom and Dolores bowled league together.  It was a nice matchup in a time before people didn't spend time with their neighbors.  

Being such close neighbors, at some point they each had keys to the other's house.  Came in handy if anything happened or a pet needed feeding.  The neighbors' key was kept in our pewter cup on a windowsill and probably is still there. This is almost fifty years later.  

Mom's key came back this week.  Dolores was much more organized than my mom.  She labeled Mom's key.  Naturally neither key is any good anymore.  Lots of changes since then.  There have been at least three doorknob changes at Pat's house.  And Bill totally changed the door with a new doorknob. 

It's just a bit of history of a simpler time when neighbors cared about each other more.  I'm lucky to live in that same cul-de-sac and know all the neighbors. And blessed for the memory handed to me with Mom's key.  

RIP Bill

 It's kind of strange to think Bill is one of the people, not related to me, that I have known for so long. I met him when I was twelve years old and his family moved next door to mine.  He had just graduated high school when they moved from California to Washington.  

Life doing what it does means that our families still live next door to each other.  Pat has Mom's house and Bill had Dolores's house.  So, there has always been a neighbor connection. Since I moved back into Pat's house I have had many porch conversations with Bill.  Seems to be the place to talk.  When we were much younger, we talked on the electric box, so outside is kind of our thing.  We had a lot of commonalities and a lot of differences of opinion, but we were neighbors.  

Bill was a veteran who spent many years in the reserves after his military service.  He became a nurse and spent 33 years working for Multnomah County in the jail.  He was proud of his job.  He liked cars and guitars and music (obviously).  He always had a pet with the last one being Clint, a big grey cat.  

The funniest story I have is this.  Pat got a cat he named Keanu.  Keanu is indoor/outdoor.  After he was a full-grown cat, he started staying away for a couple of days at a time.  And then he would turn up.  And then he would do it again.  Over and over and over.  We just accepted it was part of Keanu's personality.  He needed more than one home.  One day Bill was out on the porch, and I asked if he seen our boy.  He got real sheepish and told me Keanu was in the house taking a nap on the couch and that Clint thinks Keanu is his little brother.  I'm like, okay then.  I almost offered to provide food but changed my mind. If Bill wanted his house to be one of Keanu's homes, he could be responsible for what Keanu ate at his house. Later I found out that his girlfriend Sue had told him he probably shouldn't be letting Keanu in, but he was sure it was fine.

Bill ended up in the hospital a couple of months ago and asked for me to feed Clint.  I hadn't seen Keanu in a couple of days, so I was sure he was in Bill's house.  Bill was pretty sure he wasn't but told me I could come to Sunnyside and get his key, but I would have to bring the key back.  I waited a day and was trying to figure out how to work it out, when Keanu came strutting up.  That is when I knew Keanu had at least three homes.  Silly boy.  I appreciated that Bill and Clint loved him almost as much as we did.  

So last week Bill called me to ask me to take care of Clint.  He was going to the hospital.  I had a feeling.  Was not overly surprised when Sue turned up a couple of days later and let us know that Bill had died.  Life throws curveballs like that.  Bill had just retired.  He was planning a trip back east after his planned surgery.  What I know is he is no longer in pain and can breathe.  

Good-bye my friend.  Light and love on the next part of the journey.  

Nike

 Oy.  So, I took my grandson shopping for school clothes and shoes.  He found these Air Jordans on sale and thought they would work even though they weren't his size. We got a great deal on shoes that turned out would not work.  So, he texted me and asked if he could send them back to me and I could sell them on eBay.  And then I could put that money towards a new pair that fit.  

From plenty of experience I know that shoes that don't fit, don't work. So, I readily agreed.  But not to have them sent back to me.  I told him to put them in the box and next time I am in town I will collect them.  Then he got his new limit to spend and he found another pair.  

Here's the thing.  I bought him a pair of Nike Air Jordans last year for school and they lasted the whole year.  A hundred dollars well spent in my opinion.  He took care of them.  So, when he asked this year, I said my only condition was he took as good of care of the new ones as he did the old ones.  He agreed.  And I believed him.  

Nike is a good shoe.  The initial outlay is a bit much for a frugal shopper, but as I have discovered in my years of buying stuff for kids, if you don't buy what they like it is a waste.  Sometimes you have no choice as it is all the pocketbook can afford.  But this year I could afford the Nike's, and they will last the whole year since his feet aren't growing like before.  So, no one has to shell out $25 every few months at Walmart for him.   

Racist

 My friends and I have been having this ongoing conversation around racism.  It has touched our lives as of late in rather unusual ways.  My story started with a text saying that I was racist for not liking someone's friends because of their skin tone.  Now I would agree with that assessment if the reason why I disliked someone was because of the color of their skin.  I was a bit flabbergasted that the person texting could not think of any other reason I might dislike her friends.  Even though she was the one who put a padlock on her bedroom door so that when she left her house her friends, who basically lived with her for free, could not steal from her.  When she sent her text, I finally understood all the dirty looks I got when her friends came in and passed me on their way to her bedroom.  I did ask for clarification which was ignored so I assume I'm not racist in an intentional way.  

Then my friends had a call to the principal's office.  Not really, but they said that was how it felt.  They were actually excited to go.  They thought they were going to be asked to do some task. No. That was not it at all.  One of my co-workers had sent a letter stating that they were racists and talking bad.  My friends were flabbergasted as they could not even think what was happening in their conversation (or when) that could be construed that way if a snippet was overheard. I totally understood how they felt.  

The fallout from those episodes ended with no repercussions for anyone.  My friends were believed by the principal.  I got no clarification on my personal racism, as I did not expect any, since there isn't anything that I have done that shows racism.  Me and my friends will continue protesting ICE and working on any issues that we may have.  As you experience life you discover that things you thought were normal are actually racist.  Some of the stereotypes we tend to not even think about, like Mexicans liking spicy food.  When we learn better, we do better.  

A couple of my co-workers are bilingual.  Amazingly so.  So, I asked about it.  Opening up dialogue so we can understand things not of our normal circumstances.  Their first language is Spanish, due to that being the language that their parents speak.  Then they learned English because that is the language of this country.  This led to questions about ICE because we know they take people who are US citizens.  And yes, my co-workers are fearful for themselves and their families.  They commented about how now they are called racial slurs when they are out and about and this didn't used to happen.  They blamed all the turmoil on a president who has normalized cruelty.  And I agreed.  All I could do was give one of them a hug.  I can't change the world, but I can keep talking to them. 

Our conversation made me wonder though. Could the complaint to the principal have come from a place of fear?  Could my co-worker be getting so downtrodden that she sees racism where there isn't any?  I don't know.  All I can do is continue to learn and grow and have conversations.  

RIP Paula

 My dear friend at work died.  Two weeks ago.  I was able to go say goodbye the day before.  I sat and held her hand and had a lovely conversation with her husband, Jack.  I got a bigger glimpse into her life.  They had a son who died in his 30's from MD.  There were wonderful pictures on the wall of her bedroom.  

We all were so impressed with the loving care she got from Divine, our in-house care group.  They helped so much and stayed with her right until the end.  

Paula had the biggest heart and the brightest smile.  I remember making her laugh when Jack claimed to be an equal parent and I said well he was part of the beginning.  I'm sure he helped all that he could, but it was just a funny conversation and a moment of pure presence for Paula.  Paula had dementia and would sometimes lose Jack, even though he wasn't ever really lost.  I always helped her find him. 

Today is her memorial and I am sad to miss it.  But I know wherever she is, she is pain-free and has perfect clarity.  She leaves behind Jack and her son Jason.  

Love and Light on your journey Paula.