Thomas of the Richmond District

This is an addendum to a post I did last week about my neighbor Thomas who recently passed away. Here's the original post Maggie World: Thomas

Thomas was a lovely, sweet, homeless, mentally ill man who spread good cheer whenever her went. When news of his passing spread on the neighborhood blog there was an outpouring of stories of how Thomas had touched various people in the neighborhood. It was the internet at its most pure: no snark anywhere.

My friend Mark also lives in this neighborhood and told me there was a service planned at Star of the Sea church this evening. I made a point to go. I wondered as I approached the church if anyone would be there. I would not have been surprised to find 20 people there and that would have been lovely.

But I was wrong. I don't know why I underestimated my neighbors or the effect that Thomas had on them.  There were HUNDREDS of people there. The large church was full and there were people standing.

There are this many more behind me too

Folks brought food donations for the local food bank and donated to a collection to get Thomas a burial and headstone. He was a good man and a member of our community and we were there to take care of him. It was so heartwarming, especially on the eve of this very contentious election.

The priest talked about homelessness being the lack of a shelter, which was certainly true for Thomas, but he was not lacking a home. He was at home in our neighborhood under the trees. He was one of us.

After the mass I walked over to the reception with Mark and his wife Pat. Pat said that though she was impressed and moved by the turnout, she felt a little let down because she thought they had a special relationship with Thomas. I felt the exact same way.

The truth is, we did have a special relationship. Each of  us. All of us.

I feel very proud of my neighborhood. But in reality it was Thomas who did it. He was just the embodiment of goodness and shared it with us, his "family."  We were all richer for having known him.

Godspeed to a good man.  

Telling the Neighbors

We have lived in this house since 1987, which is a very long time. We know our neighbors, some better than others,  and have either nice conversations or pleasant encounters depending on the relationship. I can honestly say we don't have any bad blood with anyone.

Many of these people I've know for many many years, other I've seen but don't know very well at all. It's so weird to have to tell them about Maggie. It goes without saying that Maggie was pretty well known, or at least well recognized,  in the neighborhood. If the wheelchair wasn't enough, Maggie was outside for several minutes each morning as we waited for the school bus and every afternoon when she arrived home. This day in age, that's rather unusual. You barely see most kids. Folks would wave at her and she would wave back when I prompted her.

It's a strange responsibility to tell neighbors you see but don't really know. One neighbor from the next block was walking by some months ago and said, "I haven't seen your daughter lately." When I told him she had passed away I though he was going to cry. I wanted to hug him for asking and for his sweet reaction too.  I avoided telling a woman I know up the street when she walked by asking how everything was because her little kids were with her. I didn't want to upset them and figure that is news for a parent to tell (or not tell)  a kid. Later that day I went up and knocked on her door to tell her and her husband.  Let me tell you, there is just no good way to do that.  

Recently I have had encounters with two neighbors I don't know very well. Both are older than I by 10 and probably 20 years One lives up the street and is something of a socialite. The other lives a couple of blocks away and is the dog lady of the 'hood. The socialite  has always been very pleasant to me, but I don't really know her very well. She has some sort of non profit that purportedly helps the disabled, but I've never really been able to suss out exactly what service they do.  Because of that she loved to talk to me about Maggie. Many of her notions of  and terminology about dealing with the disabled are terribly out of date, but her heart is definitely in the right place. The dog lady is something of a know it all, but also very pleasant. Everything relates to dogs. Everything. And you can be pretty sure that whatever you are doing with your dog isn't quite right, but she's happy to instruct you how to do it better. After months and months of quickly waving and ducking inside I had to tell them about Maggie.

I ran into the dog lady at the corner market a couple of months ago and told her Maggie had passed away. Of course she was very kind, but then said she knew how I felt because she had to put her dog down. I just walked away. She was completely clueless that maybe her comments were inappropriate, and I'm sure she completely equates the two situations. I don't. I experienced both situations in the space of a few short months and I can assure you they are very very different. I've run into her again at the park now and then and she has decided I will never feel better - ever, as long as I live and tells me that. Now I do my best to avoid her.

The socialite was a different story. She was walking by the house, which may be a first in the 28 years I've lived here. I've never seen her outside her car unless it's right in front of her own house. I decided it was time to tell her about Maggie. She was lovely, though she used a few of her out dated expressions, I took no offense. She's very sweet, but it's just too hard to take.

A day or so later I found a note in my mailbox that had a bow around it. I though we were invited to a wedding or something. It was just a lovely handwritten note offering her condolences and her insights into losing a loved one, especially a person with special needs (not her words). It was really quite extraordinary. I realized though that had she said those things to me in person it would have been really strange and at the same time if  the dog woman left a note stating her observations it probably would have been quite lovely. Sometimes the medium can make or break a message.

I don't have a pithy ending for you. I'm just relaying another strange layer of this world I live in. As you get farther out in your circle, it becomes a different kind of strange. The inner circle of family and friends knows and tells the next circle of people for you and that continues as long as there are people we know in common . But then there are the outliers, the people who aren't really our friends, but acquaintances. If we don't tell them they won't know and Maggie was a tangential part of their lives too.

It's just so strange.  And it really doesn't get easier.

Won't you be my neighbor?

Every morning after Maggie is fed, changed and dressed, we quietly do all the frantic rushing. We get the talker programmed and packed, fill the portable oxygen tank, hang the fully charged and equipped suction bag on the back of the chair, and put a jacket on both Maggie and me. We put the pole for the talker on the chair and put the wheelchair tray out side the front door.Then we get out the back door, down the elevator, through the basement and out the garage door to wait for the bus.

The bus arrives somewhere between 7:30 and 7:40 On good days we are down there all put together and calm at 7:30. On other days we open the garage door while holding a feeding tube and buckling the last of the 7 straps and hope the bus isn't already out there with the lift down waiting for us. Good days and other days are fairly equal in number. Today was pretty good. And that gave me a few minutes to observe others in front of their houses getting their mornings underway.

Unless our next door neighbors happen to see us getting in to the elevator on the back deck, no one sees any of this. They really have no idea what it takes for us to get out in front by 7:30 AM (ish).  By the time the garage door opens we are together and ready to greet the neighbors walking dogs or driving by. For all they know we are carefree and easy going. But I also have no idea what it takes for them to be outside and ready to go at that hour either. While their circumstances are not like ours, the frantic rush may be in their houses too. Once we're out in front, that is all behind us.

This morning it dawned on me that they put up with a lot having us as neighbors. We are in a row house so there is a lot of togetherness. They can hear the drone of the elevator every time we take Maggie up or down. They can see the lights on in the middle of the night as the nurse works with Maggie. They hear the van that drops off the night nurse and picks her up again in the morning - especially when it honks its arrival. (I ask them not to). They see the delivery vans or the oxygen guy double parked in front of my house every few days.

In short, we are not the most convenient neighbors to have.

But none of them complain. Ever. This morning I watched my neighbor try to pull out of her driveway and navigate around Maggie's school bus just as she does almost every morning. Her kids need to get to school too, and they generally leave when the bus is here. She just waves at me and carefully maneuvers out of her driveway.  I watched my other neighbor wait for cars to go by so she could get around the bus and proceed on to work. She rolled down the window and yelled good morning to Maggie as she did that.   I watch the young guys next door come out and say hello to Maggie asking her questions that she can answer with a yes/no and marveling when she does so. They are a lot closer in age to Maggie then they are to me. All they want is to go get their morning cup of coffee at the nearby cafe but they always stop to say hello.

They all accommodate us in 100 different ways every single day and I never really stop to appreciate that. I bet they think nothing of it, it's just part of being a good neighbor. Even if they don't know the specifics of what goes on in our house, they get that we need a wide berth to get things accomplished. Life would be very unpleasant if they didn't make these accommodations for us, or if we even had to ask them to make them.

Asking is very awkward  because either the people feel bad that they didn't think of it themselves or, rarely, they really don't want to make the accommodation and resent being asked and lash out.  That is unpleasant for everyone. But we have never had to ask our neighbors anything.  They just do it automatically. And that's so nice.

 It's a neighborly day in this beautywood.

Christmas in April

Ok, I know it's only March. But the title works better with April.

This morning I awoke to the sound of a truck idling outside. Oh good. It's 6:30 AM Monday and the contractors are back at work next door. The hammers start flying at 7, but today we had a nice early arrival of some sort of large truck. Excellent.

I understand the need to get to work early, and I have to admit I am impressed with the work ethic of the crew. There is not a moment wasted, those guys are hard at work form 7:00AM to 5:00PM. But this is week number eight - of about 24 -  and it is getting tiresome, to say the least.

Things are going as well as can be expected with such proximity and bother. There was the incident I wrote about before when the bracing was in my yard blocking Maggie's wheelchair access. The boys hopped to and fixed it straight away. Last week someone tipped over the portable toilet and I called the owner of the house to let him know. In fairness, that was probaby some high school kids  Then the other morning,  I got Maggie downstairs, and opened the garage door just in time to see the bus pull away. Seems the big boss told the bus to move so he could hitch up his trailer full of crap and take it away. That required him to block my driveway for several minutes delaying the bus access for several minutes while he worked on the trailer. That was REALLY not cool.

I didn't say anything at the time because I was so mad I was fuming. I know that it is best that I keep my mouth shut when I'm that angry because there is just no telling what will come out. Steve made the mistake of making light of it when I came back into the house and I nearly tore his head off. (It's a dangerous job being married to me.) I said/screeched, THEY DO NOT GET TO MESS WITH MAGGIE. (and I may have used a different word than "mess".) Steve quickly understood that I was NOT pleased. The next day I mentioned to the foreman that was unacceptable and that I instructed the bus driver to ignore them from now on. He got it right away. I think he was very sad to see that garage door open before he finished and knew he was caught red handed. I told him they can do their job, but they cannot interfere with my life - except for constant noise for six months. Even a day later, my tone was clipped.

I believe we have an understanding now.

It is difficult because this is a row house. They have a lot that is 25 feet wide and it abuts my lot that is 25 feet wide. To give you an example, this is what I saw while I ate breakfast the other day. It is a workman redoing the window in my neighbors dining room, and it is taken from my dining room table.

Today has been particularly loud and shaky. A picture frame on my bookshelf fell over a couple of times. Finally I just laid it down and will put it back up when they move away from that corner of the house.

I am glad Maggie is at school all day - but next week is Spring Break so I'm not sure what we will do then. Lots of outings, I guess.

Oh and just to complete this Monday morning I have to share another ridiculous fashion choice by the nurse.  First of all, the nurse I have on Sunday night does everything in the morning, which is very helpful. Maggie is in her chair with all the equipment attached which saves me at least 15 minutes in the morning. It's good thing though, because I often have to change Maggie's clothes when this particular nurse is here. There have been some very odd outfit combinations.

This morning Maggie looked fine, though I was a bit perplexed at the 4th of July shirt. Didn't matter, Maggie is a proud American and she can show it all year long. I left it. It wasn't until I was getting ready to head downstairs that I noticed the socks.

Sure,  St. Patrick's day is over, so lets' get out the fuzzy Christmas socks with the snowflakes.

We changed those while we waited for the bus to arrive.  The workmen watched and wondered, but they seemed to be staying on their side of the hedge.

They don't want to cross me again so soon.

Get OFF My Lawn

There's nothing quite like scaring the crap out of two grown men first thing in the morning.

They are doing a massive remodel to the house next door to us. Work started a month ago and  will continue for another five months. The neighbors had to move out and the house is completely gutted at this point. The demolition was particularly noisy and as I write this, there is some heavy equipment running. They are pouring concrete and a tractor type thing doing God knows what. But, like anything else, you get used to the noise and it fades into the background. The contractors are nice guys. There are a slew of workers over there and the two boss types are both Irishmen. It's always a pleasure to listen to that accent and they are very friendly and accommodating to us.

I've mentioned before that I live in a row house. There is zero space between the properties. Before the work started I told the neighbors and the contractors that we would be fine with whatever they had to do, but they had to be mindful of wheelchair access. Our elevator is in the backyard and we take Maggie out through the garage.  That area abuts part of the remodel. A week or so ago they took part of the fence down between the properties. They told me they might be in our yard, and I said that's fine, but remember the wheelchair issue, and they assured me they would. They did what they had to do and there was no problem.

Yesterday they poured the concrete for the new foundation. I traded pleasantries with the foreman as the truck got into place. I walked to the store, came back, waved at the guy again and went inside.  They never mentioned that they were using part of my yard to brace the foundation. If they had asked  I would have said yes, of course, but once again I would have reminded them about the wheelchair access. Steve was moving something at 11:00 PM last night (don't ask) and couldn't get through because the forms were blocking the path.  

They arrived at 7:00AM. I called over there from the back deck, but they didn't hear me. I went out in front and the two boss types were standing in the driveway. The looked up and smiled. I just said, "Hey, I am happy to cooperate with you, but you have to move those forms so I can get the wheelchair out to the bus in the next 15 minutes. And If you are doing something in my yard ASK ME or at least tell me. I am going to say yes, but I do NOT like surprises."

Jaysus! They hopped to! That stuff was gone in a flash.

I took Maggie out to the bus with no problem and the big boss was falling all over himself apologizing. I said "it's ok, but you have to understand we have emergencies all the time and I cannot have something in the way that I don't know about. Even yesterday I had to leave early because of a problem with her feeding tube. And that doesn't really qualify as an emergency around here."

 He looked sheepish and genuinely contrite. I don't expect there will be any more issues like that. Or at least no surprises. I put the fear of God into them. Or at least the fear of the crazy lady next door. It was only a matter of time until they discovered the real me.  Steve just said, "ah, the poor lads" in his best Irish brogue.

Poor lads, indeed.

It's nice to know I still have it.

Parading around the Neighborhood

We live in a 90 year old house, but we are only the third owners. The first owner had it from 1922 until sometime in the early 50's when my grandparents bought it. My grandfather died in 1958, but my grandmother lived here until January 1987 when she passed away at the age of 97. That's when we bought it.  Ronald Reagan was president. We were "newlyweds" (still are!), newly licensed lawyers with no children. Everything in the house needed work and we started tackling one project after another

This house was so BIG then. It was just the two of us and we had all these rooms..  Over the years it became much much smaller as we had kids who kept getting bigger and gathering more things. Then the boys moved out and it felt bigger again, but since they left most of their stuff,  it has never felt as big as it first did. Also, once we moved Maggie downstairs and turned the breakfast room into her bedroom, the flow of the house has been very different.

Even though we've lived here  for 25 years, we do not have "seniority" on the block. I guess there are about 40 houses on the block and I know at least 6 have residents who have been here longer than us. Another 5 have been here 20 years. That's amazing. Some of the oldest neighbors have passed away and young families have moved in just as we did 25 years ago. Those houses that were neglected came back to life right before our eyes.

People tend to stay on this block. But not everyone. This week one of the new families moved away. Hilary and Wendy had only been here a few years, but decided to move across town to cut down on commutes to school and work. We were sorry to see them go. They have three little kids, two boys and a girl, who brought such a great energy to the block. One of the boys who was only three or four had a very DEEP voice and would shout for mom, or for one of his siblings. We cracked up every time we heard him.   They were always outside playing and having fun with one of the moms watching them. When I saw the "For Sale" sign on the house I was sad. I looked forward to watching the kids grow up.

Moving with three little kids is no for the feint of heart. It's a ton of work (though not having 24 years worth of crap would make it slightly easier). They worked diligently for several weeks and were ready when the moving trucks arrived last Friday. During one of the purges in preparation for the move, Hilary found a box with her kids Halloween costumes from a couple of years ago. They pounced on that box when they saw it and decided to have a parade up and down the street wearing a mish mash of too small costumes. They pulled the gay pride flag out to make it even more parade like. It was hilarious. They happily stopped for the paparazzi (me).

We will miss them and wish them well. 

With them gone it will fall to us to run the parades around here. I will festoon Maggie's chair. It just won't be the same, though.  

  

Gone with the wind

Usually the only vehicles stopping in front of my house in the morning are the school bus with the wheelchair lift quickly follwed by the van service that picks up the night nurse who is still recovering from knee surgery.As I raised the shades in the front room this morning I saw a limo outside. This is not an everyday happening. I told the night nurse her ride came early.

 In the moment I stood there my next door neighbor came down the stairs. The limo driver jumped out to help him with his stuff.


Our next door neighbors are guys in their mid to late 20’s. They are professionals of some sort, but I don’t know what they do. There used to be three but one moved away to go to grad school so now it’s just two. They are nice enough fellows but we’re not close friends or anything. When they moved in a few years ago they were all just out of college and a couple of fraternity like parties got the relationship with neighbors off on the wrong foot. After one particularly raucous evening , they came over with a bottle of wine and an apology. That impressed me. There hasn’t been a raucous party in quite a while now, I think they have grown out of the “college boy” phase. They are polite but they keep their distance. It makes sense, I could easily be their mother.

It’s funny that they live in this neighborhood. It’s not exciting, it’s all families, middle aged like mine and now younger with small kids. Many kids their age live in the Marina or the Mission where there’s more happening. They’re smart, though. They rent a full sized house instead of a small apartment and they have a place for all their toys. There are a lot of toys. They have windsurfers, golf clubs, bicycles and any number of other things showing they are fully enjoying their lives.

As I watched,  the limo driver come up, grabbed the windsurfer case and tried to make it fit it in the trunk. I don't know where my neighbor is going, but he has a limo driver dealing with his windsurfer.  I thought to myself, "Man, these guys have it figured out."

Maybe Maggie and I should try windsurfing. I'm sure that's easily adaptable for wheelchairs and trachs. Ok, maybe not. I'd be happy to just go down the to the bay to watch the windsurfers.

I'll be outside waiting for my limo.