Undaunted Joy #155
Remembering two who belonged to no one but found each other.
In 2000 I worked the front desk at a nursing home in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. I answered phones and did the accounts but my favorite part of the job was when the residents would come in to chat.
There were three levels of care at this facility. For a few it was senior care, they had their own apartments but needed meals and medication. Some residents were there on a short stay to rehabilitate and some would need care for the rest of their life.
I think of Constance and John often. At the time, both were in their mid 70’s. Neither had ever married. They had cognitive and mental health issues that required them to live in care for decades. They had lived in the same facilities. Following each other when a facility closed or became too expensive. It was not that they were attracted to each other. Their relationship was more akin to siblings than anything else. They had an affection for one another. They had grown accustomed to each other as pleasant company.
The two of them enjoyed going to Thrift Stores together. They linked arms and held each other up as they walked as slow as one of those machines that someone drives around a big box store to clean the floor.
Constance was about 5’6” which truly is tall for that age and time. She had just a bit of very straight yellow white hair upon her head which she may have cut herself due to the awkwardly short bangs. Constance dressed monochromatically. It was the most delightful thing. One day she might wear an entire yellow outfit; sunflower slacks with a lemon sweater and mustard socks. Another fuchsia pants with a creamy baby pink button down dress shirt. She had a slender frame except for a descended tummy accentuated by the fact that she always tucked in her tops.
She was a very simple and positive person. She enjoyed coming into my office after a trek to the thrift store to show me her wares. She waited patiently for me to get off a call, then would take out her purchases one by one and slide them onto my desk. She mostly bought “picture postcards” and paperback books. I am actually unsure if she could read. Either from cognitive or eye issues. She always wanted me to read her what was written on the postcard and seemed only to know the made for television version of the paperback. She always said things like “isn’t that lovely?” or “don’t you know?” after everything she said.
John was a strong contrast. John was a few inches taller than Constance and unkempt. His hair was wild. He never tucked in his shirt. All his clothes seemed to be a size or two too large for him. The necessity to wear layers in the Northwest gave him the appearance of an old timey vagabond. His head tilted to the right, as if he was always sorry. And I think he was. He told me some stories from his youth that would have shocked a priest in a confessional. He made references to classic literature and philosophy under his breathe as if only he and I understood these secrets but truth be told, I didn’t always know his references.
John mostly bought fancy rocks from the thrift store. Stones that were polished or split open to reveal crystals. For someone who collected rocks, you would have thought he’d know their names, but he did not. He would dig them out of his pants pockets to show me saying things like “it’s beautiful isn’t it?” or “feel this one, it is so smooth.”
I don’t like thinking of one of them dying before the other. I imagine them in the rec room, watching a made for television movie with one of the lesser-known Charlie’s Angel’s in the lead. John holding a beautiful rock in his hand and Constance with a picture postcard in hers.
Undaunted Joy: The Revolutionary Act is now available wherever you buy your books! Pick up your copy today. If you already have, leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. It helps tremendously. Thank you. Merci. Grazie.