death, patience, humor, timing – Alexandra Langstaff

My brother in law, Bill, said, “We had a party at work yesterday and people were doing the Griddy. It’s a football thing.”

His demonstration reminded me how much fun we have dancing together, although it’s been awhile.

“It must be named after gridiron”, I said as I step-chugged in my work boots. Although I’d never heard of the Griddy Dance, the movement felt familiar.

It’s what I do my when I dance too long in the kitchen and need to catch my breath.

“Nah, it’s the guys name.” He replied. “What is a gridiron anyway?”

“It’s an old term for football” I declared, feigning wisdom.

That’s another thing I enjoy doing with Bill.

“No, it’s the metal posts at the end of the field that look like this.” My sister, Dee said, standing proudly with her arms up and elbows bent.

“What do you think Chad?”

Our brother mumbled something about markers and lines.

“No, you’re all wrong according to Google.” Bill sounded pleased.

“Actually we were all really close to being right. What do you expect from three Smith kids who grew up eating and breathing football?” I interjected.

“Wait? Did we?” Dee asked.

“Obviously not” I replied. “I just always wanted to say that.”

We had gathered on New Year’s Day to take a walk up the new logging road behind Dee and Bill’s house.

“Twenty years ago the forester said we’d be able to pay for the girl’s college from the sale of the timber. More like 2 semesters of text books.”

Bill groused and then continued,

“I think we should start compiling family lore, let’s start with you Chad.”

“Okay, here we go” Chad groaned. (This sort of random change in the conversation is not uncommon by any of us.)

“How long did you live at the Hotel Carter?” Dee asked.

Before he could answer, she continued, gaining speed.

“One review said it was the filthiest hotel in NYC. Another said the bar was like the scene in Star Wars, all kinds of riffraff and oddballs. Apparently it finally got shut down when people were openly selling crack cocaine in the lobby. When did you live there?”

“It was in the 80’s, only eight months and it wasn’t that bad”, Chad answered patiently. He knows that being patient is the only way that the spotlight will turn on to someone else’s lore.

We had gone about 25 feet up from the landing. The mud was so thick and gummy that I had the sensation of walking in quick sand. It was a little unnerving.

Chad was behind me. “If I pushed you over, you wouldn’t be able to stand up on your own” I announced to him.

I would never do that but it was fun to verbalize the possibility, especially one so threatening.

He didn’t respond…another example of patience.

“We can climb up here, get off the road and find a drier section above.” Of course Bill would suggest bushwhacking straight up the hill, after all, he reached the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro last July.

We plodded around in the muck and mire for a few more seconds and then decided to ignore his suggestion and head back to the house.

Along the way the conversation jumped from one observation to another.

“Look at all the different fungi on this stump.”

“Here’s some major scat.”

“There’s the remnants of the tree house that the girls used exactly once.”

“Is that what they call blow down?”

“There’s so much mud on the bottoms of my boots that I feel like I’m wearing platform shoes.”

“Let’s do this another time when there’s snow and we can find animal tracks.”

When we got back to the house I said,

“You know where the telephone line crosses your driveway? An owl flew over my head like a missile. I even ducked a bit.”

“Wait. When? Today?” Dee asked. “That is so great, it’s like a sign!”

Actually this was the fourth owl sighting I’d had in two months.

Owls can symbolize mysticism, intuition, and wisdom; however, what’s more remarkable are some of their physical traits. The ability to sit quietly, high on a branch, moving its head 270 degrees so that it’s large eyes can detect movement, even in the dark of night, and ears capable of hearing mice creeping deep in the grass or snow, is all quite something. However, eating its prey whole and then regurgitating pellets of fur and bones is quite naturally magical.

Observing nature reminds us to observe ourselves.

Can we trust our gut, get rid of what we don’t need, learn from our surroundings, be efficient, know when to move quietly and when to make a lot of noise?

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the owl when you first got here” Dee said, a bit surprised.

“I got sidetracked, giddy with the Griddy” I answered.

When the doctor told my mother in law that she couldn’t drive anymore, all of us breathed a sigh of relief. No one wanted to broach the subject.

It’s not like her driving was that bad, it’s just that the kid who last ran into BT’s car was worse.

She was in her early nineties so it was only a matter of time before she would have a more serious accident, whether or not it were her fault.

Although I had been married to her son, Peter, for nineteen years, this was when we really connected. I became her chauffeur.

Our weekly trips to town were predictable, post office, pharmacy, grocery store, drugstore and dry cleaners. She had a list and we stuck to it, unless of course she had off the list requests.

“I’d like to go to Brooks Brothers, I’m running out of white handkerchiefs,”

“Let’s stop at the art gallery and see if they’d be interested in displaying Herb’s paintings.”

“I want to stop by Dorr Oil, there’s a problem with my bill.”

I’m not a spontaneous chauffeur; I like a planned route, so I pretended I had all the time in the world and was paid by the hour. It was a valuable lesson in patience and futility.

One day we ran into her postmaster, of many years, at the drugstore who said he was retiring at the end of the week. “Oh noooo,” she wailed as she hugged him. “I will miss you so much!”

Afterwards, in the car, she got angry and slammed her tiny fists into her legs. “Why do things have to change?”

She had progressive speech aphasia that made communication difficult at times, although this was not one of them.

“Well, people want to retire eventually, just like you,” I said calmly.

“Yes, but don’t they know I’m old!”

I took a deep breath. “You are old aren’t you?”

My delivery was good. She laughed. Another lesson learned; timing is essential when dealing with difficult matters.

Another morning, as we waited at the check out at Shaws, there was a distinct smell of an electrical fire near the meat section. As dark smoke started to gather at the ceiling, and move to the front of the store, an announcement was made. “Attention all shoppers. Please leave the building immediately. This is an emergency!”

BT may not have been able to speak clearly, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. It’s possible she didn’t smell the fumes but I choose to think she chose to ignore them. She wasn’t budging. As the fire trucks pulled up I said, “We have to leave this stuff and go, unless you want to go out in fireman’s carry.” She was not happy, and my patience and timing had gone out the window.

“I can go back later and pick up your things”, I offered contritely as we picked up cat food at the vets.

“You don’t know what I had!” She snapped back at me.

“I do too, we’ve gone over your grocery list once a week for at least two years now, I can recite it from heart, here test me!”

She acted impressed at my recitation, and used that moment of flattery to beg me to go back to Shaws “just in case”.

In the nearly empty parking lot, surprisingly agile, she moved quickly to the entry. “Don’t move my groceries, don’t move them” she repeated twice loudly.

Oh my gosh, is she going to scream at the poor traumatized employees?

“Wait, don’t yell at the workers!” I yelled after her.

“I’m not! I’m talking to God!” Oh phew.

Yet another lesson, how one practices one’s faith is personal.

Inside, the floors were slick with water and some mysterious foam that someone was trying to dry up with cat litter. “STAY HERE. DO NOT MOVE” I ordered her. Then, softening my voice I added, “Give me your credit card and I’ll see what I can do.”

I swear she was smirking at me.

“These are my mother-in-laws groceries, is there any possibility that we can check them out now?” I begged as I motioned back at BT who looked suspiciously calm. Then again, she knew many of the employees and regularly gave and received hugs from most of them. She was much more at ease than I was.

As we walked out with her three bags of groceries, and others were turned away, the doors were shut and locked behind us.

“Boy, you really do have God’s ear don’t you?” I said admiringly.

Later that day, her son Stephen called, “I hear there was quite a scene in town today.”

I explained what had happened but assured him everything worked out fine.

“Yes, except for a slight problem. She was charged just over $200.”

(I may have slightly panicked and not payed attention earlier.)

“Okay, here’s what would have been purchased.”

I recited her list, that came to an average of $65 a week, by heart, something I will be able to do until my dying day.

The electrical snafu had wreaked havoc with the registers, however, he got a refund, no questions asked.

BT was a woman who loved her children, her extended family, her God, her friends, and lists. I will miss the predictable unpredictability of her.

Namaste – her loving laughter makes my day.

Category: death, patience, humor, timing

Apologies to Allen “Griddy” Davis

Thanks for lessons learned.