The other week, there was the first death of a resident who I really knew, this older woman who was getting to be up near a hundred.
A few weeks before she died, she told me some about her mom, who was a Lithuanian Jew who was a socialist and never really practiced anything.
When she was 7 back in Lithuania, her mom's mom went to go apprentice her mom to a seamstress in a neighboring village, and her mom said she wouldn't go, unless she got some brown shoes.
And, her mom's mom told her mom to go, and she'd get the brown shoes there.
After a week there where she had to take care of several kids younger than her and work all day and maybe learn a little sewing at night, her mom realized that the brown shoes weren't coming, so she just set out and walked the five miles home by herself, and when she showed up on her doorstep, her mom's mom was so surprised, but her mom was like, "Where's my brown shoes?".
And, she stayed at home until she got her brown shoes, and then she went back and was apprenticed to the seamstress.
"Eastern European Jewish women were tough," I was like. "They were all labor agitators here, back when unions were illegal."
"Yes, they were tough," the resident was like.
The resident also told me that in our city, she went to a Yiddish school, and at home her parents would speak Yiddish to her, but she'd speak English to them, since they wanted to learn English.
She also said that they never really celebrated Jewish holidays at home. On Yom Kippur, which is when you'd usually fast, they'd eat like normal, but their mom would say that they could only do that until the upstairs neighbors who were Gentiles came home to the two-flat that they lived in.
And, at the first footsteps above them, their mom would sweep off the table cloth and everything on it and pack the food away, so if their Gentile neighbors saw them, they would look like they were fasting.
She also said that though they didn't really do religious stuff at home, once with some of her extended family they did a Purim play, and her dad played Haman.
"He was a good Haman," she was like.
She then said that Yiddish theater had such good actors, and she named a few of them, obviously relishing thinking of them and saying each of their names in turn, as she named a handful.
The first story she told me a few weeks before she died, and the second story the night before she died. She went quickly at the hospital, and so very fast, though she had time to call all her children.
What a very nice and encouraging person to me, and what a good death. She was nearly a hundred, had it good all the way to the end, and then she went, very quickly and pretty painlessly. Who wouldn't want an old age and a death like that?
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Friday, July 6, 2018
Resthome happenings (2 of 3): Memories of children, and a father and a mother.
The other week, this one voluble resthome resident was telling me about when her kids were young.
Her one son used to ask her a lot of questions, she said, like, "When I was in your stomach, could I see your bones?", and, "Why do they build houses in the middle of lawns?".
She also said that her dad was a lawyer and back when he was alive, they used to drive out to a neighboring state to get stinky cheese at these cheese houses that they used to have out by the side of the road ("Are they still there?").
Her dad also liked to eat fish heads.
And, whenever their family would pick berries, her mom would wrap some up in cheesecloth and tie that bundle to that U-pipe that you have underneath the sink, so that every time you went by, you would open the cabinet door and squeeze the berry bundle and get out the juices that would fall into a bucket underneath, that you could then use to make jelly.
"Our hands would all be stained up!", she said, holding out both her palms to me and flexing her fingers, gleefully.
Her one son used to ask her a lot of questions, she said, like, "When I was in your stomach, could I see your bones?", and, "Why do they build houses in the middle of lawns?".
She also said that her dad was a lawyer and back when he was alive, they used to drive out to a neighboring state to get stinky cheese at these cheese houses that they used to have out by the side of the road ("Are they still there?").
Her dad also liked to eat fish heads.
And, whenever their family would pick berries, her mom would wrap some up in cheesecloth and tie that bundle to that U-pipe that you have underneath the sink, so that every time you went by, you would open the cabinet door and squeeze the berry bundle and get out the juices that would fall into a bucket underneath, that you could then use to make jelly.
"Our hands would all be stained up!", she said, holding out both her palms to me and flexing her fingers, gleefully.
(Resthome interlude ~ the Fourth of July.)
I worked the Fourth of July at the resthome, and very much enjoyed it.
On the way in on the subway, people were chill, and many stared at their phones or were obviously on their way to a BBQ or something, and too, there was this (old) (skinny) (black) guy standing up in the car and holding on to a roof strap and with sunglasses on, and a blue t-shirt that said:
REALLY
REALLY
RIDICULOUSLY
GOOD
COOKING
. . .
At the home itself, there was an early afternoon piano-and-singer pop concert, followed by coffee and cookies.
There, I chatted with this one (elderly) (female) (artist) resident, who I hadn't seen in a while, but who I used to work with a lot and who is always into politics, she's a total Rachel Maddow addict.
As it turns out, though I thought she's American, she was actually born in Britain and lived there a lot of her early life; her dad was a wool merchant and a German Jew who had immigrated and naturalized there, and her mom was British British, and they lived there through the late 30s, till her dad was able to get them to the U.S.
As she said it, way back in the early 20s her dad knew Hitler for who he was, and laid the groundwork for them to emigrate.
Also, as a teenager, she remembers going in to London to Whitechapel, and there protesting against Hitler, and all the cops were all around the protesters on these big white horses.
"Big," she was like, leaning in to speak.
She also doesn't quite remember who put on the protests, but she's almost certain it was the Labour Party.
"There was just Labour and the conservatives at that time," she was like. "Liberals weren't really around much, then."
At that same event, I also caught up with another resident, too, this one woman in her 90s who has a great sense of humor.
"Nice red shirt and blue pants," I was like, "Very appropriate for the holiday!"
"Yeah," she was like, "And my underwear's white."
Later that night, there was a cookout party on the patio and a band was playing, all the way up until a neighboring social club started their annual fireworks display.
On the way in on the subway, people were chill, and many stared at their phones or were obviously on their way to a BBQ or something, and too, there was this (old) (skinny) (black) guy standing up in the car and holding on to a roof strap and with sunglasses on, and a blue t-shirt that said:
REALLY
REALLY
RIDICULOUSLY
GOOD
COOKING
. . .
At the home itself, there was an early afternoon piano-and-singer pop concert, followed by coffee and cookies.
There, I chatted with this one (elderly) (female) (artist) resident, who I hadn't seen in a while, but who I used to work with a lot and who is always into politics, she's a total Rachel Maddow addict.
As it turns out, though I thought she's American, she was actually born in Britain and lived there a lot of her early life; her dad was a wool merchant and a German Jew who had immigrated and naturalized there, and her mom was British British, and they lived there through the late 30s, till her dad was able to get them to the U.S.
As she said it, way back in the early 20s her dad knew Hitler for who he was, and laid the groundwork for them to emigrate.
Also, as a teenager, she remembers going in to London to Whitechapel, and there protesting against Hitler, and all the cops were all around the protesters on these big white horses.
"Big," she was like, leaning in to speak.
She also doesn't quite remember who put on the protests, but she's almost certain it was the Labour Party.
"There was just Labour and the conservatives at that time," she was like. "Liberals weren't really around much, then."
At that same event, I also caught up with another resident, too, this one woman in her 90s who has a great sense of humor.
"Nice red shirt and blue pants," I was like, "Very appropriate for the holiday!"
"Yeah," she was like, "And my underwear's white."
Later that night, there was a cookout party on the patio and a band was playing, all the way up until a neighboring social club started their annual fireworks display.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Resthome happenings (1 of 3): Levity.
The other week at the resthome, this one (older) (psychiatrist) guy who I help out a lot, had his motorized wheelchair out and was using it to go into the dining room, when he misjudged distances and drove one wheel into the back right leg of this one woman's chair, and it turned her out towards him as his wheelchair veered towards her.
"What!?, she was like, "Are you trying to sit in my lap?! I can barely handle myself!"
And, at that, everyone there laughed.
Late that night I saw a private aide who had been there, and she was still laughing at that crack.
"What!?, she was like, "Are you trying to sit in my lap?! I can barely handle myself!"
And, at that, everyone there laughed.
Late that night I saw a private aide who had been there, and she was still laughing at that crack.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Subway happenings (2 of 2): Puzzles.
The other week later that same week, I was coming home from work, and I was doing puzzles in my little puzzle magazine on this slightly drawn out commute, since there was a baseball game getting out and so there was some crowding problems on a lot of the cars and then there was some rail delays that slowed us down for a bit at a couple of stops.
Then, towards the latter half of that commute home, this (younger middle-aged) (taller) (big-boned) (black) woman next to me and I who had been chatting about delays, started doing puzzles together, since I had noticed that she was looking over my shoulder at what I was doing with this one word search puzzle and so I asked her if she wanted to do it with me and help me out.
It took us a while to finish the first puzzle from a set of four, but then we banged the second one out really quick right before my stop, though it seemed like we wouldn't have had the time.
Then, we began the third puzzle from the set, and since it turned out that she had to get off at my stop anyway since the train was suddenly going to go express to way farther down the line than she needed, I stuck around a few minutes on the platform to see if we could finish that third puzzle.
We couldn't.
So, I had her check answers, to see if we were on the right track in guessing the category that you had to find words from.
We weren't!
We both laughed, and I left to go home as the next train was pulling up, that she needed to get on.
Then, towards the latter half of that commute home, this (younger middle-aged) (taller) (big-boned) (black) woman next to me and I who had been chatting about delays, started doing puzzles together, since I had noticed that she was looking over my shoulder at what I was doing with this one word search puzzle and so I asked her if she wanted to do it with me and help me out.
It took us a while to finish the first puzzle from a set of four, but then we banged the second one out really quick right before my stop, though it seemed like we wouldn't have had the time.
Then, we began the third puzzle from the set, and since it turned out that she had to get off at my stop anyway since the train was suddenly going to go express to way farther down the line than she needed, I stuck around a few minutes on the platform to see if we could finish that third puzzle.
We couldn't.
So, I had her check answers, to see if we were on the right track in guessing the category that you had to find words from.
We weren't!
We both laughed, and I left to go home as the next train was pulling up, that she needed to get on.
Monday, July 2, 2018
Subway happenings (1 of 2): Two commutes on the same day.
The other week, I was going to work, and the car was decently crowded.
Across from me was this (little) (black) (boy), just sitting there next to a guy who I guess was his dad and just staring out into space, and for a while when we were going through downtown, he would repeat word-for-word in synch the pre-recorded subway announcements at each stop, with the name of the stop and the doors-opening-and-closing bits and the lists of intersecting lines, and it was just amazing, he had it all memorized.
Some (younger) (white) woman sitting next to him on the other side of his dad heard it, too, and it caused her to smile as well, and we caught each other's eyes and we both smiled to each other, it gave both of us a kick so much.
On the way home that night, someone hummed for a bit that one famous Pomp and Circumstance march, but I couldn't see who it was.
Across from me was this (little) (black) (boy), just sitting there next to a guy who I guess was his dad and just staring out into space, and for a while when we were going through downtown, he would repeat word-for-word in synch the pre-recorded subway announcements at each stop, with the name of the stop and the doors-opening-and-closing bits and the lists of intersecting lines, and it was just amazing, he had it all memorized.
Some (younger) (white) woman sitting next to him on the other side of his dad heard it, too, and it caused her to smile as well, and we caught each other's eyes and we both smiled to each other, it gave both of us a kick so much.
On the way home that night, someone hummed for a bit that one famous Pomp and Circumstance march, but I couldn't see who it was.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
A dream of objects.
The other month I dreamnt -
I'm looking at the back of my grey winter coat that I got like a decade ago, and down towards the bottom there's a straight tear right across the back, it's so old and the fabric got so weak.
. . .
I'm looking at the back of my grey winter coat that I got like a decade ago, and down towards the bottom there's a straight tear right across the back, it's so old and the fabric got so weak.
. . .
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