ALMA

I keep thinking about my cousin who has just entered assisted living and what kind of life she has led all these years and her kindness.  I sometimes thought she had a sixth sense at times when I needed her the most.  She always spoke softly to me and I never saw her complain.  She had 4 amazing children and 13 grandchildren and now one great grandchild.  She fell and broke her hip and is recouping from that.  She can get around pretty well with her walker.  When I went to see her, three of her grandchildren were there to visit and help.  She said, "Don't I have wonderful grandchildren Chris?" I agreed of course.  One thing that always stuck with me was on my 27th or 28th birthday she called me.  I was still living with my parents and my mother had to work that Sunday evening.  My father was not happy that day and started to yell at me for never telling him what happened when I fell off that roof and broke my back.  I knew I told my parents and everyone what had happened, but he either forgot or just wanted an argument.  So I told him the story again.  I told him I was on the flat low roof at first shoveling shingles into a wheelbarrow, I was then asked to go on the higher raked roof and I did.  We took a break and we went back up.  I was too scared to stand on the roof and shovel, so I sat on the edge and grabbed the old shingles and threw them in the truck below.  I didn't remember anything after that until I was in midair and was falling.  And that was that.  "And you just went, didn't you!"  He was anything but happy.  Later, my cousin called.  "Happy Birthday Chris!" Thank God a sweet kind voice on the other end of the phone.  I was relieved it was someone kind like Alma.  She talked to me about her gum surgery and said, "Floss Chrissy, floss!"  She made sure to keep in touch with me after my mother and father died and has kept me abreast of all that has happened with her family.  For awhile it seemed I was on her payroll.  When I had my breast reduction, she sent me a check and said in the card, "You're going to need some new clothes."  When I first came home from the hospital after I broke my back, she sent me a check.  I was going to a friend's wedding the day after I got home from being in the hospital for ten weeks, she said, "I figured you would need money for a wedding gift."  It was so thoughtful.  Different holidays, she would send a card with a check.  Now she is getting a little bit forgetful but before Christmas I got a card.  I was in shock that she even thought of me at this time.  I checked with her daughter and said that I knew she must have helped.  Her daughter said I was first on her list and they couldn't get out a lot because her attention span was short.  Honestly?  I felt honored.  I'm no longer on the payroll but I'm fine with that.                                                 

QUEENS GAMBIT

I watched the documentary on Walter Tevis.  He wrote Queens Gambit.  He was a professor at 

Ohio University when I was there.  His daughter was my first roommate in college and I was very 

lucky that I got to meet him.  At the beginning of the quarter, maybe even before classes had started, he was driving us back to our dorm from somewhere and he made funny comments about the students.  "Look at em!  Look at em!  All they care about is sex!"  He was of course kidding and I giggled like an idiot.  Back then, I didn't know he was a famous writer, he was just my roommate's dad and one of our professors.  When I found out he had written "The Hustler", I was so impressed, and of course, as I always did back then, told 400 of my closest friends.  He gave a signed copy of the book to me to give to my parents and unfortunately, I have no idea what happened to it.  He had written the book, "The Man Who Fell To Earth", and it was already made or going to be made into a movie with David Bowie.  People in our dormitory teased my roommate that she would probably go to go to the premiere and get to sit next to Mr. Bowie.  We figured they would soon be a couple.  This went on for a long time but I don't remember if the family ever got to the premiere.  One time he stopped over on a Saturday looking for his daughter.  The place was a mess and I was in my leotards and tights doing whatever exercises they had us do in our movement class.  I was a theatre major, and it seemed theatre majors were always in their leotards and tights. (Just the girls)   The expression on his face when he saw the room was priceless but he didn't say a word about it.

As was told in the documentary, Walter had a drinking problem, but I never saw any of that.  I did hear from some of his students about what a fantastic teacher he was.  I met one of his students that summer here in Cleveland when I was a cashier at Gold Circle.  She couldn't say enough about him as a teacher.  He left around my third year at O.U. and later I had wished I had taken a class from him.  His daughter and I had many laughs and she was very quick witted and worked hard.  One of her funny expressions was, "Shitfire!"  I recall reading one of her papers for an English class.  She seemed to have that great gift of writing where you laugh and cry at the same time.  My second year, I saw him and he said that he wished I was still living with his daughter.  I don't think she felt the same way he did.  I never put anything away in our room and would turn on the light late at night to study.  It drove her crazy.

On Mother's Day weekend, Mrs. Tevis, my mother, my roommate and I went out to dinner and as I recall, we had a very nice evening.  I did get in touch with Walter's daughter about 12 years ago. We haven't really stayed in touch that much.  Watching her talk about her father with more enthusiasm than when she was 18 made me very happy.  So, since the documentary, we connected and even though we are in different cities, we will try and see each other very soon

Right before Christmas break, Walter took his daughter and I out to lunch.  I just recall his humor and kindness.

BELLA

     When I moved in with my friend Paul in 2012, I was so excited to be able to live in his beautiful home.  What I didn't expect was to fall in love with his dog, Bella.  I had met her a few times when I went to visit with my best friend, Paul's girlfriend, Barbara and I found her annoying more than anything.  I loved pugs but she barked a lot and got underfoot too much.  Then I moved in and my main concern was starting radiation treatments.  Due to a spinal cord injury in 1980, I walk with a crutch and wear braces up to my knees and having Bella around was a little difficult especially with Paul's hardwood floors.  Paul had built a suite upstairs for his son and family and when they left, I moved in and I was in heaven.  Paul and I shared the kitchen and Paul was as easy to get along with as anyone I had ever met.  He charged a very small amount for rent. After my first night there, I got up and went into my living room, sat on the leather couch that was left there,  and turned on my laptop.  I heard Bella run up the stairs and she ran into the living room, jumped on the couch and all over me.  After greeting me for all of 10 seconds, she ran back downstairs. This became our morning ritual.

One night Paul and I went out for something.  It might have been a movie with Barbara, I don't remember.  But we came home and I went up the stairs to go to bed.  It looked like Bella took a dump on Paul's rug in the hallway.  Then we went out another night and the same thing happened.  Paul felt that the rug must of had some sort of smell so he took it out on the deck,, sprayed it and cleaned it, leaving it to dry out in the sun.

Paul bought a small staircase to put in my bedroom so that when he stayed at Barbara's, she could sleep with me.  I figured she would sleep outside of the covers, because of the difficulty pugs have breathing.  But she would get completely under the covers, and snore very loudly.  Then when she would hear Paul come in the house the next morning, she would run downstairs, mostly because he gave her a treat when he got home.  But also, because she adored him.

Paul and I went out again one night and when we got home, I had found that Bella had climbed up the stairs, into my bed and taken another dump.  So, Paul put a gate up so she could not go up again.
Then I would wake up, get dressed and sometimes she would be waiting for me at the foot of the stairs and sometimes she would be in Paul's office asleep in her bed while he played or worked on his computer. Other times she would be in Paul's bed snoring.  He would make the bed with her still in it, and it just looked like a loaf of bread that snored.

My cousin Lowy came to visit me.  Lowy is so sweet but also very funny. We sat on the deck and chatted while Bella was out and Bella laid down and Lowy mentioned that Bella looked like a piggy and the name stuck.  I realized that this is not a nice thing to call a doggie but she didn't seem to mind.  When workers came to work on the house or do some leaf blowing, she would be so excited to see them.  They knew where her Snausages were, and they'd go into the laundry room and give a few to her.

About a year and a half of me moving in, Paul's melanoma had spread to his lungs and I fell outside and broke my hip.  After surgery and a couple of weeks of rehab I came home and Paul was exhausted but ok.  Then it spread to his brain and his children and sister came home to help.  I wasn't much help at this time.  I was using a walker and getting physical therapy.  I was not to go anywhere except physical therapy and after a while I could go and do errands.  Paul died very quickly and after about a week, his family left, and I was alone with Piggy.  I slept in an extra room in the downstairs bedroom, and Bella slept on the left side of me, the side that wasn't broken.  I couldn't sleep on my side at the time or my stomach, so I laid very still in the bed.  I noticed I was talking in my sleep when I was in the hospital.  I know this because I kept waking myself up.  In my dream, I would be having a conversation with someone and out loud I would say something like, "I don't know.  What do you think?"  So now that I was home I would do the same thing.  Only this time, Bella/aka Piggy would respond.  Her snores would get louder or she'd make a cooing sound to me or a new sound I hadn't heard before.  Paul's children graciously let me stay at the house until my hip healed.  Friends and family took me to physical therapy, grocery shopping and out to eat.  But Bella seemed to be the best support while I grieved Paul's passing.  Then the weather started changing and I felt safer to go out on my own.  Bella had a fenced in back yard but every time I opened the front door, she would get past me and run out.  Sometimes someone would get her for me. The family was so kind and said I could keep her when I moved but I soon realized that I couldn't handle her.  If I had a fenced in backyard, I might have been able to keep her, but having to walk her every day would be too much if I wasn't feeling good.  And I never know from day to day how I would feel.  So she moved to a family member's home who had a lot of land and a great love of animals. She was out of the state so I never got to visit her.  I think that was the last hard thing for me that year.  Paul's children were gracious and let me stay 6 months after Paul died until my hip healed.  Not having her to keep me company was heartbreaking but I was grateful she had a good home.  Her new owner posted some pictures on Facebook and sometimes a video.  She had a much better handle on Bella's spoiled behavior.   After a while I wrote the owner and she said Bella had passed away.  I was sad, but every time I think of her, I start to giggle.  She was a spoiled little girl, but she was very funny.  She reminded me of me.  I was a spoiled bratty kid, teen, young person.  But I am very funny.  

RO

   I don't think I will get past this grief.  Or at least that's how it feels right now.  Grief sneaks up on you in your daily routines when you least expect it.  I keep thinking I can text my cousin and tell her something or call her and see how she is feeling.  My cousin Rose was extremely private and would not like me writing about her but I feel it's the only way to get me past or deal better with some of this pain.  So if she's reading this from heaven, she'll have to deal with it.  We grew up together in the same town and she was only a year younger.  We went to the same elementary, Jr. High and Senior High School.  We were in marching band together, only she practiced and I didn't.  After graduation, we didn't have a lot of connection other than family gatherings, until after I broke my back and moved back home with my parents.  Her and I and my brother Joe would go out together a lot and we three nuts giggled either on the drive there or when we'd go out to dinner.  Sometimes she would come to my parents house and my brother had some video of a musical that he wanted her to see.  She loved musicals and she loved going to the theatre.  She worked at Bedford Hospital where my mother worked.  I had also worked there when I was 17 and 18 and Rose's mother worked there for a while and Rose's sister Vanessa.  At that time, it was an 80 bed hospital and then in the early 80's it got bigger.  I was in there at various times with one health issue or another.  My father died there and it was kind of the Vartorella Hospital.  When my mother retired in 1988, she said to me, "You know Chrissy, I'm going to miss seeing Rose at work everyday."  Rose worked for a long time for the head of anesthesia doing the billing but her office was right in the middle of outpatient surgery and when I'd go to visit, doctors and nurses were in and out of her office and she seemed to be very well loved. Whatever they needed, she'd have it. When my mother would walk in, they all would say, "Hi Aunt Eva." In 1986 I moved into her same building not far from my parents.  It was very reasonable rent and I liked the apartment.  I could walk 14 steps downstairs and be in Rose's apt.  She had already lived there for about 5 years.  She stayed there for 16 more years and then found a much more beautiful apartment across the street. Across... the... street.  It felt like across the Atlantic.  I missed hearing her door unlatch when she knew I was coming downstairs to say hi or if we were going out together.  Some friends of mine that met her started calling her "Cousin Rose".  And this seemed to have stuck with her although I only called her Ro, Rose, Roost or my favorite, "Roostafarian".  Every time we would go to a play my brother Joe was in, a cast member would yell, "Cousin Rose!"  She loved it.  More than one person said we sounded alike on the phone.  Some folks would call her and say, "Hi Chris."  She'd have to explain that it wasn't me.  One friend of mine was driving us somewhere and if either one of us would talk, my friend would say, "This is like stereo."  Since Rose knew where she was going, my friend said, "Cousin Rose is a veritable map."

Rose had a great sense of humor.  One time we were going to a grocery store on a Saturday night and she commented on what losers we must look like going to the grocery store in our sweats on a Saturday night, as opposed to going on a date or anywhere else.  So later that night we sat on our porch.  Our building only had 8 units and we had a nice front porch.  Our landlord was very happy to see that Rose fixed it up with chairs and plants.  We started to write a song about our evening.   We did it in our best hillbilly voice.  "Ohhhhhhhhh.......we're..... going to Finast on a Saturday night, we got no dates, we got no life, that's alright, we got no money, we're going to Finast cuz we're real hungry..  I added more to the song but it would offend too many people so I won't show it.  What I can tell you is that the second verse that I made up made Rose laugh so hard that she fell off her chair.  And that was one her many gifts.  Her humor and her laughter.   

She loved her nieces and nephew and great niece and nephew.  When Rose's sister had her first child, Kayla, Rose was in heaven and then Lexie came later, and she loved her so much.  When Lexie was very little she said, "Auntie, you're BEAUTIFUL!  And Rose said, "Oh, do you think so Lexie?"  "I know so!"

Rose tried to be diplomatic about things with me.  I went on a spiritual retreat in 1989, and during that time I needed a haircut.  The lady at the retreat cut it and said that the scissors were dull and she couldn't do a good job.  It was awful.  When I came home Rose stopped over, looked at me and said, "Oh I like your hair."  Then her body shivered like Lucy did when she tasted Vitameatavegamin.  "It's so tasty too!" She takes a teaspoon and says, "Just like candy." Then her body sort of has an aftershock.  Well, that's how my cousin looked when she saw my hair.

About 1990 something,  Rose was excited to try out a new bubble maker.  Supposed to make huge bubbles.  She brought it out on the porch.  She was so careful with the bucket of soap and water and I sat and watched.  After several tries, I must have turned away for a second because before I knew what happened, it was across the street.  She got so mad that she threw the stick as far as she could.  That was the end of our bubbles.  

Her apartment was very clean and decorated beautifully.  She loved nice things if that makes any sense.   One  Saturday, she was cleaning and cleaning and then I came down to watch a movie with her that she rented.  She pulled out a large bag of teeny tiny jelly beans that were every kind of flavor.  We were eating them and guessing what flavor they were.  Then she tasted one that she didn't like.  She looked at me and in her just cleaned apartment, she threw the left over jelly bean across the living room and it hit her pristine wall.  

Before she got really sick way back in 2006, she asked me to take her to the doctor because she had a lump on her leg which turned out to be an infection due to her diabetes.  She had no idea it was out of control.  She just took her pill every day.  When she got in my car, she started dry heaving.  Then started to sob and said,  "Oh Chris, I try to be such a good person."  

You are Cousin Rose, you are.