Random Kindness

 

I got up bright and early Saturday morning, and headed off to the castle. It was raining for the first time in at least a month, the kind of rain the plants love. Not too heavy, not too light, rather, a steady drip from the skies granting relief to the parched soil.

I pulled up to a stoplight, and had to brake hard on the summer-oiled pavement, activating the antilock brakes. My entire dash lit up with an array of lights - the expected slippy car and ABS lights, yes, but also the low charge indicator on the battery - and the engine died.

I turned the key off, then back on, trying to restart the motor. The only sound from under the hood was the click, click, click from the starter. I tried again, same results. The light changed, and I tried to turn on my flashers to alert the cars behind me. No dice, I didn't have enough charge even for that. I opened my door and waved the cars to go around me; with some grumbling and just a little honking, they did.

As it pulled around, a beat-up old orange pickup of dubious vintage slowed, then backed up to park directly in front of me. The driver, a thirty-something guy with a medium build and a long beard, wearing jeans and a "Freedom is a Right" t-shirt, with no mask in sight, hopped out into the rain and came back to ask me if I needed some help. In no mood to argue the merits of a mask in the midst of a pandemic (after all, we were outdoors, it was raining, and we were six feet apart), I explained what had happened, and he nodded sagely. "Yup, either the battery or alternator", he agreed.. Either way, the car was not going to start where I was stranded, and without flashers to alert oncoming traffic, I was in a dangerous spot. He said he had a chain, offered to pull me off the street and over to a nearby parking lot. A little leery, but unwilling to take my chances on a collision by leaving the car where it was until AAA would be able to show up in an hour, I agreed.

He'd done this before. It took just a minute to dig the chain out of the debris in his truck bed, and he quickly got it hooked up under my bumper and to the spot on his rear end where the bumper would have been mounted if said bumper was actually attached to the vehicle. We hopped back in our cars, and he smoothly pulled me out of harm's way, around the corner, into the lot, and neatly into a parking spot. (or two, but let's not get picky here!)

Let me pause for a moment to give thanks for power steering and brakes - the car was NOT easy to maneuver without them. I spend the entire less-than-a-minute I was being towed frantically yanking on the wheel and stomping on the brakes with all my might to avoid crashing into the back of his truck.

Now we were safely out of traffic, he offered to see if giving the car a jump would work. I readily agreed, and he went back to the cab of his truck, dug a bit more, and came up with a set of jumper cables. We popped the hood, he hooked them up, and we gave it a shot. The car started right on up. As we waited to see if the battery would take a charge, we chatted just a bit.

He said it was just chance that had him driving down the road behind me - if he hadn't needed to drop off a something with a friend nearby, he wouldn't have been anywhere near me. I thanked him, offered him all the cash I had on me - ten bucks - but he declined. He didn't want money for doing what decent people ought to do when they see someone in trouble and they can help.

After five minutes or so, we tried unhooking the cables, and the gauge immediately dropped to zero - there was no way the car was going to make it to the nearest auto parts store, just ten minutes away. I could see his wheels turning, wondering what else he could do, but I stopped him. I was safe, my car was safe, and I had friends I could call.

He smiled, said goodbye, climbed back in his truck and drove off before I remembered I hadn't even asked him his name.

Good Is.

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Footnote: I called Joe, and he was able to come get me. He ran up to the auto parts store, picked up a new battery and the car started right on up. Today, I took it to my mechanic - sure enough the alternator was also on the blink - and got it replaced. When I get tired of looking at the scratched paint on the bumper, I'll get it fixed. (his chain popped it a bit off kilter and messed up the paint). The $200-ish cost to repaint will be a small price to pay for a quick resolution to what could have been an ugly situation.

Castle Progress

I love having Joe, Rita-Marie, Joe B, and their pets stay with me, and they need to not be here any longer than is absolutely necessary. Both parts of the sentence are true. We are all playing nice and getting along pretty darn well. We've figured out ways to not step on each other's toes, and no one steals anyone else's cookies. Still, I don't think I'm just projecting when I say they are tired of essentially living out of suitcases and that they miss having their stuff around.

On a project this big, it's easy for me to get lost in the enormity of what has not yet been done and get overwhelmed, but when I take a step back, we've made tremendous progress.

When Ted was working on the plumbing, he started a string of messages - as he finished work each day, he'd take a photo of what he'd done that day and text it to us with a simple caption: Progress.

Enough photos, enough days, and the plumbing rough-in is now complete. Progress.

The electrical work is essentially complete. Progress.

The roofers came back almost two weeks ago, and are moving rapidly ahead. Their work is beautiful, and they fixed the leak above the third floor stairwell before it rained again, which means my hard work at plaster repair was not done in vain. Progress.

My attempt to learn to repair plaster without cheating and filling most of the hole with Sheetrock has been a success! *pats self on back* (see above photos) Progress.

Joe has finished building out the new shower for the bathroom. Progress.

We've finished hauling debris out of the house and garage. Since there's no more water coming in, we've been able to clean out the rotten stuff and treat what's left to get rid of the remaining mold. (turns out the magic answer to getting rid of mold you can get to is to spray it with two solutions: first, use borax water. After it dries, respray with straight vinegar. It takes a few days for the vinegar odor to dissipate, but when it's gone, so is are the active mold spores!) Progress.

I have been spending more time over there; I work every day I can. It doesn't feel like I get much done each day, but it turns out that showing up is over half the battle. By taking baby steps each day, progress automagically happens. Who knew?

We're still hoping they'll be moved in before the heating season starts. It's been a project and a half, but one day it's going to be a show place again. She's been neglected for a long time - it feels good to be part of the team working to restore to her former stately beauty. 

Happy 1st Birthday to Joe B.

 

What a difference a year makes.

A year ago, Rita-Marie was experiencing premature labor. Her water had broken too soon, and she was on complete bed-rest trying to make it 48 hours before giving birth, to give the lung maturing steroids a chance to take effect. Joe waited out the 48 hours, but not much longer before making his appearance.

While labor and delivery went well, he spent the next 23 days in the NICU learning how to eat, breathe and swallow. He was so small, so delicate, so still. I didn't realize until I met him how quiet preemie babies are - they spend ALL their energy growing with almost none over for moving.

We rejoiced when he had no breathing problems and was able to come home over a month before his original due date. He's been a champion grower ever since. He made his way to 5% on the growth charts by his November appointment; for his one-year checkup last week, he was in the 97th percentile for height and 85th for weight.

He's completely caught up to his age-mates. He's got the crawling thing down, and has started to use his little walker to help him take his first steps. He loves sticks; has mastered up-stairs. We have to keep close tabs on him when he's loose because there are times he'll get halfway up the stairs and decide he's tired and try to sit down. (I hope his complete trust that there will be always someone to catch him to keep him from falling lasts a good long time.) He hasn't mastered the down-stairs motions at all, so caution is warranted, but soon.  Soon.

He's selected his first word, "Uh-oh", but has otherwise gone a bit quiet. I miss the background noise of his happy babble - my theory is that he's busy sorting the sounds into words.

He's almost done being a baby - racing around the corner into toddlerhood as I watch. As much as I will be happy for all of us when he and his parents are finally able to move out of my home into their castle, I already dread the occasion, for I know I will miss seeing him every day. (On the plus side, their new home is much closer to my place than their old one, so I anticipate I'll be able to see him fairly often.)

I still find myself trying to hold on to the days, the hours; to capture those perfect moments when I walk into the room and he sees me and smiles his slow grin that reminds me of my dad's. While I will likely never figure out how to pause time, the futility of wishing I could has me learning to stop and savor the moments when they are there - no small feat. 

Happy 1st Birthday, Joe! I am so grateful you are here to brighten my days and lighten my heart. Keep growing strong; you're doing a great job!

Good Things

My friend Jean came by for a socially distanced drink a few days ago. She brought a box of ridiculous sunglasses with her, and let us each choose a pair. I got the sunflowers, Rita picked the flamingos, and Joe got the penguins. And, she brought me soap bubbles. I laughed.

When I was driving yesterday, I passed a tall, fifty-something, slightly stooped, white man standing on a street corner. He was dressed in a plain blue shirt and shorts, holding a tray of bubble soap, creating bubbles for the passing cars. No sign, no visible agenda, just iridescent bubbles floating serenely in the air. I laughed.

My daughter's landlord told her on Friday he was going to put his house on the market soon, and she'd need to find a new place to live. She got online, looked at the available options, and found a place that meets all her checkboxes. She visited it Sunday morning, and by Monday night had a signed lease; an amazingly short search time. One less worry.

Young Joe has spoken his first word: Uh-oh. He uses it in a versatile fashion. In his lexicon, it can be a question, a statement, uncertain, definitive, or some combination of the above. I think it's adorable!

My friend Tom has come by several times over the past month to help clean up the assorted piles of trash at the castle. Sometimes, he brings his grandkids, sometimes, he comes alone, always, he brings a cheerful attitude and willingness to haul wheelbarrow loads of stuff to the dumpster. When he helps, I can more clearly see the renovation work will not stretch on forever, even if it feels that way at times.

I had a wonderful visit with my sister in Minnesota last week; got to spend some good time with her, my granddaughter and my daughter. She hosted a socially distanced lunch for us, so I got to see some of my favorite family people. I got some rest, enjoyed exercising in the cool morning air, caught up with people's lives and was able to gain some perspective on the worries of my life. That's a lot of good from one week.

Oh, and she was able to get her massage therapist to come by the house to give me a massage. Wonderful!

I saw my formerly-tortured-by-bedbugs friend this morning. The infestation is finally under control - he hasn't seen any bugs in four or five days. He looks much better; has finally been able to get some good sleep again. (And, I have still found just the one at my house. If there were ever a time to beat the odds, this is it!)

I've been a little down, a lot overwhelmed. But when I stop to look, I find good in each and every day. Not great things - they are small things, even, but they are good things. They give me hope, help me take one more step. I am grateful.

Goodbye, Todd

Todd Bursch
Jan 1964 - Jul 2020

Cancer sucks. Just sayin'.

I liked him, but can't say, despite the fact he was married to my sister for 32 years, I knew him well. Todd was uncomfortable when thrust into large groups of people; a bit hard of hearing. Since our family is large, and I rarely saw him outside group gatherings, my sense of him is mostly filtered through conversations with my sister, Colleen.

He was a man who wasted few words. Once, he called Colleen, who was at an appointment at the hospital. "Haley (their daughter) is hurt. I'm taking her in."

That was it; the entire message. 

Colleen was at wits end. What????? By the time she caught up with them and learned Haley fallen on a piece of play equipment and managed to tear a big gash in her thigh, requiring stitches, Haley had been stitched up and taken care of. It took Colleen quite a bit longer to collect her scattered nerves and calm them down.

I do have a few treasured memories of my own. Back when my son was learning to drive, he was having trouble keeping the car centered in the lane, and I didn't know how to help him guide the car. Todd drove trucks for most of his life, and since we happened to be staying there overnight, I asked him if he'd give Joe a few pointers.

We went out in the car, and Todd watched for just a few minutes. From the backseat, I listened as, in his calm steady voice, he told Joe to keep the middle of the hood centered on the stripe on the side of the road. (or, in this case, since we were on a gravel road, the edge of the dirt.) It was exactly what Joe needed - he straightened out the car, finished the drive into town for whatever it was we were fetching, and from then on, had no more issues with wandering about his lane. I was most grateful for the parenting assist!

We first heard Todd had cancer shortly after we buried Libby; about eighteen months ago. They did surgery to remove his kidney; were optimistic the cancer was contained and they'd gotten it all. Sadly, their optimism was short-lived. There were a few rogue cells hiding out and by October of last year, they'd grown enough to show up on the scans. *sigh*

Kidney cancer doesn't respond well to chemotherapy, and they couldn't do further surgery because of the location of the tumor. The diagnosis set the end of the road, but Todd didn't let it stop him from living.

He made a lot of lifestyle changes - changed the foods he was eating and lost some excess weight to reduce the workload of his remaining kidney and liver. For several months, despite the diagnosis, he felt no ill effects; to the contrary, the changes he had made had him feeling better than he had in some time. He had time to tidy up some loose ends; to tell his people he loved them - no small gift.

But the cancer had its way, as cancer will. When he started to go downhill, he mercifully went down pretty quickly. Colleen told me his end was peaceful. His children were all able to be near, to say goodbye. As he left this world, they drew in and provided support for one another, continuing a lifelong pattern of close knit love.

Todd, I am sorry you have left this life too soon. I hope and pray you are in the better place your sustaining faith promised is beyond death's door. For me, you continued the lessons Libby started to teach; reminded me cancer is not the enemy. The enemy is fear. You didn't let fear rob you of the days you had - in these days of pandemic uncertainty, I needed the reminder of the lesson.

Rest in Peace. 

We will miss you.