You never know...

            I was reading the Health section of the Washington Post last week, when I suddenly realized that the lead article concerned a woman I knew!  In spite of knowing her (albeit not well), I had no idea that she had been dealing with some pretty serious health issues over a fairly long period of time. 

There is no need to recount the details of the case.  This story, and many like it, was featured in an on-going series about medical conditions that are initially difficult to diagnose, but ultimately are identified and dealt with.  As always, the story was fascinating; the patient's perseverance was extraordinary; and the health care provider who resolved the issue, exemplary.  Still, given that I knew the party involved, this particular story stayed with me for days.   

I asked a friend who knew this woman much better if she thought it would be okay if I wrote to her about the article.  (The woman in the article had recently left the area & I didn't want to appear intrusive.)  This mutual friend thought it would be fine. I felt compelled to let her know how glad I was that she was doing well and to compliment her on her perseverance.  By all outward appearances, she always seemed to be carrying on with work and the business of life.  There was no hint of how she was wrestling with  issues. 

This evening I sat down and wrote a letter.  This is an excerpt: 

"Upon reading your story I wanted to reach back in time and offer you some encouragement and comfort.  I didn't know what you were dealing with daily.  Unfortunately I can't go back, but now that I know I resolve to pay it forward. From now on I plan to pause before responding sharply to someone; I hope to be a little kinder and not so quickly annoyed when someone doesn't hear me or appears to be distracted.  Your journey made me think about the burdens that others may carry.  I was sincerely moved by your story and impressed that you shared it.  I wish you the best as you pursue a new chapter in your life.  Take care and be well."

         It’s a little thing – writing this letter -- but, it’s something and maybe I’ll be better for it. 

I’m just saying…

  

The Queen Mum

Primroses, the Spring may love them, Summer knows but little of them. 

-Wordsworth-

Pam & Peggy Under a Sombrero

Just about everyone remembers the first adult who didn’t treat them like a kid.  For me that adult was Mrs. Pearce, or as I took to addressing her in her later years -- the Queen Mum. 

If I close my eyes, I can see the Pearce’s kitchen in their house in Southampton.   I can see the low wall with bookcases that separated the kitchen from the dining area.  I can also see and remember the day that Mrs. Pearce called me over and kindly offered to lend me “Something that I just might like”.  That something was a paperback by Agatha Christie.  A paperback that I could not have afforded to buy; a paperback that expanded my horizons and made me an intimate of Hercule Poirot and Miss Jane Marple; a paperback that triggered my love of the English mystery novel – a love that endures to this day. 

I was flattered to be singled out by her and trusted with her beloved books.  I always treated her books with great care and made sure to return them in good shape, as soon as I finished them.  And like all children who are treated with respect & kindness, I realized that this gesture by an adult, the mother of my best friend, was a singular honor and not one to be taken lightly.  From that day forward, Mrs. P. continued to loan me books.   As I got older we swapped books.  Later in life I would occasionally pack up an entire carton of books and ship them to Indian Head or Cumberland or North Carolina.  (I believe once, Tony actually shipped a carton on to Florida where she was spending the winter with Gayle and Kim.)

While books were a big part of what she gave me, it certainly wasn’t all.  She welcomed me with open arms (and the occasional glass of sherry…) when I retreated to her house to escape from adolescent woes with my parents.  She listened to me, laughed with me and I believe she loved me – for that I will always be grateful. 

The Pearce household was always my home away from home.  I remember once when Mike and I reviewed a bunch of old 8 mm films he’d taken over the years.  Here were the Pearce’s on Christmas morning, opening their presents and drinking coffee, still in their bathrobes and PJs and suddenly the camera panned right and there was ME!  Me, fully dressed and out and about on Christmas morning, sitting on their couch with the other Pearce kids and the odd grandchild or two.  I said to Mike, “What the heck was I doing at your house on Christmas morning?”  He just looked at me and chuckled, “You were always there,” he said.  And he was right; it was not the least bit odd.  I always felt at home at the Pearce’s.  And, I was always welcome.  That’s just the way it was.

The warmth and caring nature of Mrs. Pearce, our own Queen Mum, is legendary.  She loved her husband Jack, her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren.  She had true and long-time friends from her many years in Bryans Road and maintained a close relationship with her sisters and her entire family “across the Pond” in England.  She will be sorely missed by many. 

She had some rough patches in her last few years; but thankfully she had Mike and Rita to care for her and make her as comfortable and carefree as possible.  Her move to High Grove last summer was to be her last and I will always remember it as the last place -- and time -- I saw her. As always, she greeted my arrival with a big smile and a hug.  “Pam.” she said.  Rita and I sat with her in the dining room at High Grove.  I pulled my chair up to the table next to her and took her hand in mine.  One of the ladies was playing the piano and another rose from her chair to sing.  From time to time she’d look up at me and pat my hand.  I will cherish that memory and all the many, many others I have of my dear friend – The Queen Mum, Mrs. Peggy Primrose Pearce.  

I'm just saying...

Moving On

“That’s why I’m moving on, I’m moving on.  I’ve been hanging around too long.  It’s time I was moving on.”

-Gary Moore

It’s time for that obligatory, end-of-the-year, sum it up piece where I drone on about what things I am grateful for and what has and has not worked in the past year.  It’s been done to death and I’m way past the start of the New Year.  But, here’s my excuse, I just celebrated a birthday and that entitles me to a “look-back” at my year.

Now that I’ve justified myself, I’ll continue to contemplate my navel and submit my take on the past 12 months.  Over and above everything that happened this year, moving stands out as the key event.  After 21 years, my 3 story townhouse (and lovingly tended garden) sold in record time (“zero” days on the market, as it was never listed publically).  If I sound regretful, I’m not.  I found exactly what I was looking for.  Even after all these months, I sometimes have to pinch myself to be sure I’m not dreaming.  We lost virtually no square footage and gained a dwelling that is a balm and blessing to my replaced knee.  For the last five years in the old house, I had to carefully climb two flights of stairs, dozens of times, each day.  I do not miss that. 

            A move is truly a major life event – on par with marriage, divorce and death.  In light of that, I can’t say enough about the help and kindness I received from my friends and family and even from some strangers.  Throughout this journey, my realtor and friend kept me calm and centered with her incredible marketing skills, wise counsel and steadfast support.  Our next door neighbors/friends let us stow countless boxes in their basement as we streamlined and staged.  They soothed us with wine as we perched (with our cats) in their kitchen and watched our potential buyers and a team of inspectors crawl all over our home looking for God knows what.  My long-time contractor and primo carpenter took care of the minor adjustments needed to seal the deal.  I’ll always be grateful to our wonderful pet sitter and friend who adopted the cat we rescued and couldn’t take to the new place (They had a 2 pet limit.).  Another friend recommended a fabulous charitable organization, “A Wider Circle”, who gladly took away our gently used furniture.  They, in concert with Habitat for Humanity, furnish houses for those without and also provide men and women with donated business attire.  Such a pleasure to turn over some 13 suits, 20 dress shirts, and at least 50 ties that Bob no longer needed and know that they would be put to good use!  

I was struck again and again by how friends we’ve made over the last few years through our volunteer work, were just as forthcoming as friends we’ve had for years.  A friend and fellow docent oversaw the movers while we went to settlement and then provided snacks and wine for the day of the move.  Help came from all quarters.  When it occurred to me that we’d have no place to stay the night after the truck was packed, a young friend used her influence to find us a most comfortable hotel suite for the night we were between houses.  

My sister and my niece were incredible in the first days after the move.  They trekked from Virginia bearing food and drink, rolled up their sleeves and helped unpack 100s of boxes.  New neighbors dropped by with cookies, fruit, bread and jam and even more wine.  In the weeks that followed, old friends visited from Delaware and North Carolina and our younger friends spent their evenings hooking up our computers and electronics.  My sister came back and stayed a few more days to help me recover my dining room chairs!  (Note:  Do not attempt to do this– ever.  Hire a professional J.)

            As spring turned to summer, I found that while I missed my garden, I had rediscovered cooking.  We’ve had more dinner guests in the last 6 months than we had in the last 6 years in the old place.  It seemed like everyone wanted to visit.  Of course I couldn’t imagine having people over without feeding them!  So, after adjusting to a gas cook top, a convection oven, a fridge that dispenses ice and water from the door and a Microwave with a control panel similar to that of the Starship Enterprise, I hauled out cookbooks, perused the Times & Post food sections and consulted with a friend who is a fabulous cook for suitable dining fare.  Instead of planting, weeding and mulching, I found myself chopping, stirring and simmering.  I am happy to say I fed most of my family, lots of my friends, and many old and new neighbors. 

            Well, I guess this isn’t technically my “Year in Review” It’s mostly a review of our move and how incredibly fortunate we are to have such a supportive network.  I hope I thanked all the many folks who helped us complete this somewhat stressful, but oh so rewarding journey.  If you don’t recognize yourself in the descriptions above – here’s my best shot:  My heartfelt thanks to: Bob, Gaylen, Janet, Lou (may he RIP), The Malka Family, Dana, Bob H., Bill, Oliver, Boo Boo, Beverly, Kai, Hannah, Tom L., Barbara, Denise, T.J., Greg, Carole, Allen, Brandon, Sara J., Susan, Jane, Harriet, Shelly, Silvia, Greg K., Elaine, Ella, Karla, Mike, Rita, Wafi, and Tom G.   You all played a part in this successful move.

I’m just saying…