Story of the Day 9/1/2008

This time, Harriet was my partner in crime.

We signed Mary out, and then headed off to the bar.

Okay, mot true. First we went to the fabric store.
We had to. I tried to tell Mary that I wanted, for a treat, take her out for a drink- but she was sure it was too expensive (Starbucks- the original coffee bar that I suggested). I countered this by offering Dunkin Donuts/
According to Joe, their coffee is the best, anyhow.

But then, Mary insisted that it was an inconvenience to me.
Which is how we ended up at the fabric store.
You see, the fabric store is across the street from Dunkin Donuts, and I had to buy two yards of blue polar fleece fabric for Sarah’s sewing class project. I wasn’t even making this up. And , since I had to be right there anyhow…….
Hey, and I wasn’t even making this up!

So, Mary gave in- and we went to have coffee.

When Harriet and I picked her up, Mary insisted that she also wanted to stop at her house.
Harriet and I looked at each other. I haven’t’ discussed this wit Harriet, but I am pretty sure she was having the same thoughts that I was- concern over upsetting Mary.
But, since I told Mary we could do it after coffee, I think that Harriet was also hoping that Mary would have forgotten about it by then.

But after 2 yards of blue polar fleece, and a bagel and a cup of coffee, Mary still had it in her head that she wanted to stop at her house.

So, off we drove.

And I got honked at.Well, I was on the right street. I had just turned the corner onto her street.
Harriet and I have both been there, before, Harriet and I went, a few years ago, to hang framed pictures up, after Mary had the walls painted. And I had been back a few times, but it had been a while…. and, I was going rather slowly to make sure I didn’t’ drive right past the house. And then, I was stopped, not sure which of two driveways, the one before her house or after it, I was supposed to be driving into. And I was honked at.
A rather perturbed fellow in eth vehicle right behind me. I had a moment of “Well, why doesn’t’ he just go around me?” After al, this is Indianapolis and during rush hour, there is plenty of space to change lanes, and this weren’t’ no rush hour- nor even a normally busy street…but then I realize d that one of the two driveways I was considering- and which I was blocking- was his.
Whoops!!!
But, that gave me a clue, and I drove up and parked in the next driveway.

The 4th car parked in it.

Mary gets out of the car and looks and says, “well, that is my car, and that is D’s (her grandson), but whose car is this?”
I thought, for a moment, that her son had gotten in early, but this wasn’t a rental car.
Then Mary suggests, “It must be the neighbor's.”Makes sense. Maybe they had a lot of company for Labor Day, or were anticipating a lot. They certainly weren’t blocking anyone in, since Mary is at the nursing home.

So we went in.

Lights were on, and a lot of stuff was in the process of being packed up.

I was glad that someone had started doing that. Mary certainly wasn’t’ up to it.
But Mary and Harriet and I were all a little dismayed they’d gone and left the lights on.

My family, also, is always driving me nuts by leaving lights burning in rooms, after they have left.
All of the lectures I give them on greenhouse gasses and carbon footprints, and…….

Harriet and I are rather hoping this is going to be a short visit. But we are also, at this point feeling that Mary really needs some closure- since she is moving soon- out-of-state.

She has live din Indianapolis for over 50 years. Many of them were in this house. She certainly has a right to say goodbye t it.

I also know that the things that Mary is worried about are not the things that would necessarily mean much to other people. I suspect she is worried that those are not being packed up to move.

She goes into one of the back rooms, the room with her TV, and to eth pictures that are stacked up against the wall.
As she pulls them out, she has Harriet and me hold some of them, so that we can see them better. And she talks about them.
This one she made. Another one, her daughter, who is now deceased, made. They are petit point. Many, many hours went into each one.
And then there are the ones that she brought here wit her, from Europe.
One that hung in her parent’s home. It is about 200 years old; she is not sure which great-great grandmother did it. Another that her mother did, another…and the painting. She doesn’t’ know who did that one, but when things were taken from their home, during the war- that painting and the petit points were left on the walls. And when she and her sister returned, after Auschwitz, they came home to find tem still on the walls.

When Mary left, weeks later- having given up hope that other family had survived and was coming back to their town, she rolled up these pictures and carried them with her in a suitcase. Well, she had no clothes and no other belongings- and this was what she had left from her childhood. No parents, no community- just the needlework of the deceased and a painting.

And thee pictures went with her to Italy, where she spent years in a DP camp, and then with her to America…. and she is now making sure they will be following her …that she hasn’t lost this remnant. Even though, as she says, there will be no room for them, and she knows it in her new nursing home room.

And then she tries to give me one- a large on e made by her daughter.
And I refuse it. At least 4 times. Finally, because she is insisting, I say, “Thank you” and take it and lean it against a piece of furniture.
I figure that I will call her son, later, and have him come pick I up from me, when he is in town, or maybe I will get lucky and she will forget about t by the time we are ready to leave the house.
Her daughter’s son should have this. Not me. And I hope that in a few years, he will understand the value of this piece- something his mother worked on for hours- something he has left of his deceased mother- in the same way that Mary values these remnants of the family that she lost.

As we are going out, Mary sees keys on eth table. We figure they are an extra set. Who knows.
And a purse left on a chair. It looks like it was forgotten here.
Mary wants to know who has been here.
I think, "A lot of people could have been here.”Her daughter was buried not that long ago. Her grandson was here. His friends?
Her son came, and her other son, later. A wife? Someone who brought them a meal and forgot it? Who knows?

She shows us the table her aunt gave her- the two other marble topped tables a Sephardic woman gave her, when she first came, and had no furniture. I don’t know the name.
She mentions the apartment they lived in on the South side. She shows us more needlework she has done- this is needlepoint-covering chairs and stools. A piece that used to cover her daughter’s piano bench.
I never knew her daughter when she was still able to play the piano.

Finally, we leave.

Outside, we again see the neighbor who honked at me.
He has a beautiful little boy and girl- they are 2 and 3. Mary collects hugs and admires the little girls pink necklace and bracelet.
He and his wife speak with Mary.
They mention that a woman has been by packing up things.
Mary is upset.
She knew the things had been packed, but I think she thought her son had done it- although, how he would, from far away, I don’t’ know.
I figure she will forget this, soon. It isn’t important.


When I take her back to the nursing home, she enjoys telling a few people that we were out having drinks- at the bar.
This is typical Mary. She is enjoying it.
She is calm. Maybe not exactly happy, but resignedly talking about the move.
She tells me, “It will be okay.”

I hope she feels this way, tomorrow.

In the evening, her son calls.
He asks me, “Did you take my mother to the house?””Yes>” And I explain our rather odd outing.
He is hard to hear, he is at the airport, somewhere.
He moves to a quieter area and says, “I have something funny to tell you!”

Turns out, the woman he has packing up the house was there, when we went. We startled her, and she hid in the basement until we left.

When he told me, I didn’t think much of it, other than the fact of it.
Later, I started thinking ….Thank G-d, we didn’t lock her in the basement. Or, in our conservative manner of turning off all the lights, realized alight was on down there and turned it off on her. Or, had we gone downstairs, would we’ve had a heart attack, being startled by seeing her?
Worse, after we’d left the house, Mary went back inside, by herself, while Harriet and I continued to talk to the neighbor. It was only for a couple of minutes, but what if they had startled one-another then???

I have decided that I am too old for all of this excitement.