Bringing Wisdom to the Role of Will Executor

“I suppose you’d toss it; that’s your answer to everything.”

The work of finalizing our dear friend Loretta’s earthly life has been a tedious process. It has been tedious for me and I haven’t been the one doing it, for the most part. Ellie has been doing it and doing it ( I don’t mind saying so ) rather well. She has brought a level of wisdom to the procedure that I am sure I would not have had.

Loretta was nothing if not organized, and, boy, was she organized! Ellie has found many boxes with a handwritten comment on the side, purportedly describing what’s inside. And, viola!, that is what she found inside. And she has found things ranging from pictures of her trip to Greece, to slides ( yes, transparencies ) of her two trips to Israel, to undeveloped film canisters, to papers documenting some family
history … birth certificates, marriage licenses, death certificates and the like. Ellie’s found things with huge sentimental value to Loretta. These things strike an emotional chord for Ellie; but they are, ultimately, of no value to her. As mentioned previously, Loretta was a voracious reader; there have been enough books to both float a battleship and choke a horse.

We’ve taken over 50 pounds of paper to be shredded and I’m not sure we’re done. Ellie has carefully decided that each of the sheets is not worth saving. She has set aside a fairly significant number of pictures, planning to offer these to Loretta’s nephew. She has asked my opinion about something, I’ve given it, and she has accused me of insensitivity, “I suppose you’d toss it; that’s your answer to everything.” There is more truth in that than I’d like to admit, and it’s her willingness evaluate everything that marks the wisdom that I say she is bringing to this endeavor. I am almost certain I would not be doing that.

Organizationally, while there have not been glitches at every turn, there have been enough glitches to keep it “interesting.” Our attorney failed to send us copies of various communications mailed on our behalf. Different people at the financial institution that held Loretta’s investments gave us different answers to the same questions. The nephew who lives in Chicago decided he would take the care after initially declining it. When I called our Department of Motor Vehicles to see about transferring the title the answer was, “Talk to the Illinois Department of Motor Vehicles, that’s where the car will be titled.” When I spoke to the Illinois department, she asked whether the nephew will have the necessary paperwork to drive the car to Illinois, “after all, it’s not his name on the title.”

Good things, too, have happened.

Communication with our attorney and the investment company is improved.

Loretta’s estate sale is scheduled for next month. A real estate agent recommended to us will be selling Loretta’s condominium after the estate sale.

About the cats, the friend of a friend of a friend of ours ( or , perhaps, the friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of ours … I get confused ) is looking to replace a cat. Via this chain of friendship, or somehow, she heard about Loretta’s cats and we are in the process of exploring with her the possibility of her having them. We pray for a successful outcome there. Please pray with us.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

My Spouse is still not Home

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I said, recently, that, after caring for our dear Loretta, burying her cremains, and staying to get her affairs in order, Ellie is coming home; I was excited. I was also premature.

The work to get ready for the estate sale, scheduled for mid-January and for which Ellie has to be out by the end of December, is still significant and both Ellie and I have found it advantageous for Ellie to stay at Loretta’s to be close to the work. Moving home and driving eight or so miles to the work, is both unappealing and a huge hassle. 

Of course, that’s not the whole story.

I also said in my prior post, “I will be sharing the space of which I have had exclusive (mis)use for over 10 months ... ” Consider that (mis)use. My belief is that it would not be unusual for a man, in my circumstances, to turn the place into what I would deem a pigsty. Used unwashed cups, plates and silverware are everywhere; clothes too; crumbs and other reminders  of meals past are on the floor; seat cushions are in disarray; dust bunnies are everywhere and dust is an inch or so thick on all horizontal surfaces.

Except for the dust issues, none of that is me. What is me, however, is paper almost everywhere. Office paper. The kind delivered  by the USPS. I collect these under numerous categories. One is, “Gee that was mailed to Ellie; she doesn’t need to see it now, but she should see it someday.” A pile begins. Another is information she and I should go over ... sometime. Pile 2 begins. An information packet that clearly has a home in my office in the basement; but I am upstairs and not going to the office right now, so I put it on the stove near the stairs to pick up next time I go that way. There are several subcategories like this, and so several piles accumulate on the stove. Another category is, “Yes, I really want to read this, but I don’t have time right now.” Anothert pile starts. I can’t keep track of all these piles, so I might start a second pile for a category for which I’ve already got a pile going. I have a serious tendency to do this to paper ( Ellie calls it a sickness; I cannot disagree much ) but Ellie would not put up with it. She’s not here, so there’s nobody to call me out.

I have not kept this a secret. Ellie knows I have work to do to make Ellie feel like something other than she’s moving from an estate project to moving to a fix-up project when she walks through the door. I want to do this and have not done very much yet. My excuse is that I am still spending a lot of time with Ellie at Loretta’s. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

A Time to Think of Giving Thanks

The Thanksgiving holiday is always a good time to take stock and recall what we're thankful for. The last time I did this publicly was two years ago; I shan't compare the two reflections. As I ponder the year, numerous events and people which inspire gratitude come to mind. Some events are horrific ones generating gratitude because I was not part of them.

I am thankful for:

• Ellie, my sweetheart of a wife.
  
  I would hope the reason for this is obvious.
  
  
• The downing of the Russian passenger aircraft, for which ISIS took responsibility ( and wanted, can you believe it, credit ).
  
  My gratitude is that neither I nor any of my loved ones were on that plane.
  
  
• The visit of Pope Francis to the United States.
  
  I am grateful that he is the leader of my faith family.
  
  

• The synod on the family that Pope Francis called and presided over.
  
  The specific outcome(s) of the Synod are not important; I am grateful for his calling for it, for his asking for input about it from the laity, and for his consistent message to the clergy in attendance: speak your mind, disagree if that what is on your mind, debate and disagreement are the marks of a church that is alive.
  
  
• The many snippets ( sound bites if you will ) that Pope Francis has uttered ... and some of these precede this year The general tone is home-spun rather than intellectual wisdom, the kind most everyone can relate to. And it speaks of a church more interested in the people of the Church than the Church itself. A sampling:   
• "Who am I to judge?"
• "I see the church as a field hospital after battle."
• "I believe in God, not in a Catholic God, there is no Catholic God, there is God ... "
• "Men and women are sacrificed to the idols of profit and consumption:"
• "It is harder to let ourselves be loved than it is to love."
  

• The ISIS attack(s) in Paris
  
  While I certainly abhor both the attacks and the evil behind them, I am grateful they didn't happen here and that they didn't directly touch anyone that I know.
  
  
• On a much more personal level, there are a number of 2015 events and people I encountered that inspire gratitude.
• The retreat I went on just after Easter; it was a wonderful experience.
• The fall that Ellie experienced while I was on retreat did nothing more than worry most everyone connected with it.
• Ellie's moving in with Loretta to help care for her cancer ... I am grateful she was able to do that and proud of her for so doing
• My ability to cope while Ellie was gone.
• The extraordinary grace Loretta brought to her entire dying experience.
• The friends of Loretta's who came to see her while she was in hospice and brought more than enough love to fill the room.
• The staff at the Hospice who did so much to keep Loretta comfortable and welcome Ellie and everyone who came to visit Loretta
• The staff at the Basilica who did so much to make Loretta's funeral and burial a celebration of her life.

There is much for each of us to be thankful for. Please do it. And please take a small amount of time at the end of every day to notice the beautiful things that happened and the people who touched your life that day.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

Taking the Chill out of the Air

“Fire department!”

It's a brisk fall day. Ellie and I return to Loretta's after lunch, and she is chilled. She had spoken, half-heartily I thought, as if it's too early in the season, of having a fire in the fireplace. I seat myself at the dining room table. "I don't see the flu control," she says, "will you look?"

I come. I look. I fail. I am about to get on the floor and look for the handle up in the chimney.

"There it is," Ellie says, pointing at a lever that moves horizontally over the fire place door. I move it; we hear the flu change position. I return to my newspaper, Ellie lights the log and sits next to me at the table.

Soon ... "I can smell the fire," I say; "should that be?"

"It's ok."

I return my attention to the paper.

"Whoop whoop." Suddenly, a smoke detector is blaring. There are three smoke detectors within spitting distance of one another ( code requirement ) at the end of the hall ... one in each bedroom above the door, and one in the hall ceiling, inches from each door. I see no smoke, and I’m positive I need only to move a little air past the detector and we'll be home free. "Which one is it?" I wonder as I scoot down the hall. I find it and wave my rolled up newspaper at it; silence. "I knew it," I said to myself, "darn I'm good," and walked back to the table. Before I sit down it, or another detector, is blaring. "Well, rats," I say, and begin another trek down the hall.

Long story short, we are seeing the smoke that's setting off the detectors, I've exchanged my rolled up newspaper for twelve inch by twelve inch lid to a plastic litter box pail, I'm frantically waving it and I'm unable to silence the detector(s). We have to put out the fire. I douse it with water but this creates, of course, even more smoke.

We have all the windows open, one vertical fan left over from summer is running on high, and we're looking for another, smaller, fan to blow right on the alarm in the ceiling. ( This one seems to the one causing the most noise announcing: "smoke, fire, evacuate, evacuate" loud enough to drown out most commercial jets ). All the noise and/or commotion is bothering the cats, too; their high-pitched yowling is adding to it.

Suddenly, on the apartment door, Bang. Knock. Knock Bang Knock. "Fire department!"

Grateful they didn't break down the door, "Hi, I'm Walter."

Realizing there was no fire danger, they brought a huge fan to the outside doorway at the foot of the steps, and I immediately feel a cold draft from this fan. The lead fireman walks down the hall, saying, "The alarm will not shut off until the smoke is cleared," just before finding and using the kill switch on the detector. Silence. Golden silence.

The fireman determined the fire was, indeed, out, and, inspecting the fireplace, found the flu closed. Ellie and I had closed the flu immediately prior to lighting the log. Well ... no wonder, then

The fireman took Ellie's name for the report, told us there'd be no charge for the call, and we thanked him for coming as he left. Ellie and I, feeling weak-kneed and foolish, sat on the sofa, overwhelmed by thoughts of worst-case scenarios.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

My Spouse is Coming Home Again

“They have to eat.”

Ellie is still living at Loretta’s ( for which I blame the cats ) and this is getting harder and harder. In addition to her wanting “just to be home” and my wanting the same, the actual caring for the cats is starting to wear on her. They eat ( and if  you know anything about cats you know that means she feeds them ) pretty much every three to four hours, 24x7. So, yes, even overnight they are yowling, meowing and expecting food.

I say, “They’re spoiled. You’ve done it.”

Ellie says, “They have to eat.”

Friends have urged us to consider putting them down … “They’ve lived a good life and you’d be sending them to Loretta,” goes the thought process. Neither Ellie nor I believe that’s a good idea. Even though we blanch at the idea of taking them home, and there don’t seem to be any viable alternatives on the horizon, both of us prefer that to putting them down.

We visited the cats’ veterinarian, who has four cats of her own ( and is hugely disinterested in adding two cats to that number ), to try to get a handle on some of this. “I keep my door closed at night or I wouldn’t get any sleep.” That pretty much sums up the meeting. Oh, in addition, “You’ve rewarded them for their behavior so changing that behavior will be difficult.”

On putting them down, this vet subscribes to the American Veterinarian Association’s position: she will not do euthanasia for convenience – which is how she would see this because the cats are healthy. Never mind that we received the cats accidentally and neither Ellie nor I have every actually had any cats of our own, or had a desire for same. Were we to take them home and things not be going well after two weeks or so, that would change the “for convenience” tag.

So … unless something quite unforeseen comes up very quickly, my life will soon change dramatically. I will be sharing the space of which I have had exclusive (mis)use for over 10 months with both my spouse ( finally ) and two cats ( yikes, really? ). This is clearly very good news with a dose of bad news mixed in. ( If you’re not sure which is which, you have clearly failed to pay attention. ) I’ll keep you posted.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

Returning to the Neighborhood

"It was good seeing you again!"

I previously mentioned that this summer brought the end of an era to my neighborhood card game. The traitorous couple ( said with the utmost in humor ) that moved to Arizona was in town recently, and the visit promised both a dinner involving all 4 couples and a 4-hour all-male card game. I looked forward to both as soon as I knew of them.

The dinner, held two houses from mine, was splendid. I enjoyed seeing the transplanted couple. The food was very good, the atmosphere warm and amiable. Ellie, still recovering from the exhaustion of caring for Loretta and in the throes if a nasty cold and worse cough, was not in attendance. Because of her absence, I told the story of Ellie, us and Loretta's cancer. It was the first time I told the whole story to this audience, ( We didn’t talk a great deal when playing cards – we’re four men, after all -- and Loretta had died after the breakup of the game.) and the wives knew only what their husbands might have told them, which I suspected wasn’t much. They were quite caring and understanding about the situation. Pre dinner talk moved to the topic of life in Arizona, the move and related things.

When we sat down to dinner, ( corn bread and wheat buns, both a green and a fruit salad, ham, scalloped potatoes ) the hostess, suggesting she'd make a care package for Ellie, asked if Ellie likes ham. 

"It's one of her favorites," I told her.

 "Wonderful. I'll package that up. Don't leave without it." As if I could.

The meal was wonderful; the conversation included many follow-up caring inquiries into our life of the last year and dealing with both Loretta's estate and caring for her cats. I went home with both a care package and a heart full of gladness for our caring neighbors. And, of course, an eager anticipation of the next day's card game.

The game was a reprise of our monthly competition. We drew for partners, our special option rule was in effect, and we were scheduled for four hours. The singular difference was we were playing during daylight. I drew the new Arizona resident for my partner, and that pleased me; we shared a level of communication I did not share with the others.

We got off to a bad start; before my chair was warm, we had played just two hands but lost our first game. Before I got up for my first serving of snacks, we were down three to nothing. Luck was against us; when we bid, bad things happened. When we bid nulo ( this is a hand in which the bidding team intends to take no tricks ), we'd find big cards in the middle, and small cards in the opposing team's hands. When bidding high, we'd find the opposite. Soon enough it was five or six to nothing.

My partner is a very rational man, but he got up and, for good luck, walked around his chair twice; naturally, that made no difference. Not being superstitious, I got up and, somewhat desperate, walked around the table. That was equally (in)effective. Finally, I changed the pen I was using to keep score. Almost immediately our luck changed.

But not that much. I would love to tell you we started making no-trump hands, and setting them when they bid ... but I'd be lying. Our luck did change, but not that dramatically, and the 4-hour game ended, mercifully, with the score 9-3 (or, 3-9 if my team's score is mentioned first). We got up from our seats and thanked our host. My neighbor went to pick up his wife to drive up north, and my partner and I went outside.

"It was good seeing you again!" we said practically simultaneously. We hugged--a little awkwardly. ( Well, I’m not actually sure we hugged, but if we did I am sure it was awkward. ) He climbed into the car he had borrowed from his son and drove off; I walked home.

If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to  walter.comments@inkfounta.in.

And Where Have You Been?

My coauthor Walter recently took some time off of blogging for very good reasons.  I took that as an excuse to take some time off too.  That's a good reason.  Right?  Right?  Well, I did need to wander the Mojave Wasteland circa 2281.

I was a huge fan of Skyrim, logging hundreds of hours.  I knew it was built on the same engine as the Fallout games, but never really looked into them.  They appeared to be the same game, but with a less interesting setting.  Boy, was I wrong.

With all the hype about Fallout 4, I decided to spend the $10 on the previous game, Fallout New Vegas.  I was immediately surprised by the polish, and style.  The way they convey emotion and story with camera angles, and eye movement.  Even the way scenery was arranged told a story.  Then came the real shocker.  It came out before Skyrim.

Part of the explanation came from the fact that fans have created texture packs that I took advantage of.  The rest of it all comes down to game design.  I do enjoy urban fantasy stories, and there does seem to be some of that in the game.  The world has just enough fantasy to be interesting, but enough reality to be believable.  The world is fully flushed out with history and lore.  And it has something Skyrim never had; style.

A month later, and a couple dozen hours into a $10 game; I regret nothing.