Visiting Willy at Golden Living on Stenton Avenue in Mount Airy - Poem: Once again Evelyn

It was raining when Shelly drove over. Her windshield wipers weren't working properly.

Shel, I said, let's take my car.

I had just gotten gas this morning, 60 cents off at the Giant, since Sarah had spent $300 on food for the Musical Fundraiser, and it all went on my bonus card.


Price of gas is low right now b/c of something going on in the Mideast. People are wondering if the supply will slow down.

Shelly plugged her smartphone into my charger and the Robo guided us. We got there in about 40 minutes.

Golden Living on Stenton Avenue

  It's actually one of 300 homes in 21 states, all over the country.  

Shelly is very much at home there. Her brother Willy was delighted to see her.

Did this photo come out? She took it with her cellphone. I was mad that I forgot my camera.

Shelly came bearing gifts for her brother, who has a perpetual grin on his face. He is a happy man, with a cute mustache. Looks sort of like someone's nice Jewish uncle.

He wanted a pair of shoes, but the ones she bought didn't fit him.

He doesn't walk anymore, just sits in his wheelchair. He wanted a pair of blue and white shoes/slippers, so maybe she'll get him

They must be easy to put on bc the staff doesn't have a shoehorn or the time to struggle to put them on him.

She also brought him food he loves: her husband Billy had made pumpkin pie, which was quite good, I had a taste. And she bought him chocolate filled with peanut butter.

Willy was ecstatic.

  He also likes holding playing cards in his lap and shuffling them back and forth.

The things that make people happy!

I helped myself to some lukewarm decaf coffee, which I enjoyed.

The staff there is notably wonderful! One of the aides, Margaret, had amazing dyed red hair.

  My goodness, you can find a photo of anything on the Internet.

I took two great photos with my cellphone, but I could not figure out how to get them onto my computer. Majorly frustrating!

Aside:  On FB, I just "liked" a couple of people. Am always loath to do this as I don't wanna be involved in their business.

While in the dining room, there was a huge mess on the floor..... carrots and peas. I went out in the hall and BEGGED to borrow a broom. I do not like getting vegetables stuck in the crevices of my sneakers.

To no avail. The cleaners didn't arrive till lunch was over.

Shel and I left Willy in the lunchroom, watching TV, with the playing cards in his lap, while we checked out his room.

He has a very nice roommate, whom I'll call Bruno, an Italian fellow. We don't know a thing about him. Does he have mental health issues? Why is he in there? His speech wasn't particularly cogent. Shelly will have to figure out what's going on with him, right, Shel?

After we said goodbye to Bruno and then to Willy, we went downstairs to see the main social worker, Marcus. He was in conference with two other workers.

They had read my story, "More Decaf, Please" and enjoyed it. That's why it was necessary for me to drink a cup of decaf

When we left, Shelly said she wanted to take me out to get a snack.

"Bonnet Lane?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Terrible food," I said.

"Let's drive down York Road," I said, "and we'll find a place." All I wanted was something healthy... a salad.

  We stoppped at Fill a Bagel in J'town. 

They've been there twenty years! This was one of the fave places of my former client "Evelyn." She loved their cookies.

I had an enormous salad - and ate every bite - and Shelly got a bagel with egg and accompaniments on it.

We had a blast.

What are the chances that we'd hear the song "Brandy" by the Looking Glass on the loudspeaker?

Brandy is Shelly's daughter.

Shel, who has quite the sense of humor, said if she hadn't named her daughter Brandy, she might have been more of an intellect.

Dyou know of any college profs with the name Brandy?

Speaking of coincidences, when I got my nails done thother day at the mall

I sat next to a psychologist, who will be our guest speaker at the Giant on May 2.

Had been lamenting to myself: Who will our guest speakers be? How can I fill these time slots?

All in good time. 

My 96-yo friend, Walter Straus, told me about the beautiful poem "Evelyn" by Robert Browning. Read it here. 

I've written at least six poems about my Evelyn, but dyou think I can find them?

Miraculously I just found one....


ONCE AGAIN EVELYN

once again Evelyn you have with words alone
deceived me like a skillful lover who plies me
with flowers and adoring looks
and boxes of chocolate covered cherries
a woman my own age who has never had a man
or a title or someone to kiss her goodnight
and whose face I noted this morning still bursts with
scabs of unknown origin

your latest caper, as I shall call it,
left me broken and despondent
though I get paid to see you
a handsome amount for doing nothing but
accompanying you to lunch or
watching Hogan's Heroes with you in your
raggedy chair apartment littered with empty
pizza boxes that smell

you’ve spent half your life enraged
and tied up in asylums’ cruel arms
one too many misdemeanors no one
can figure out and
you ask me with your cockeyed stare
why do I do these things, Ruth

and were surprised this morning that
after you’d snookered me and I walked you home
I refused to come in and play the end
of today’s game as you planned

small victories are what I cherish with a woman like you
whose mother drank while you floated inside
forming an oh-so-odd constellation of a human
oh, the millennia of unending combinations that
formed to create solely you
yes, people look when you pass them by
not because you talk to yourself
or wear the same green jacket and shorts in
december
but you're simply out of tune
an always dissonant chord
a jazz tune sailing into the wintry sky
with no accompaniment

you drive all of us away
every last one of us
needing a hiatus from your
machinations
though when I returned home
still smarting from my fall
I realized I’d have to see you soon again
to bring you the box of Triscuits I’d forgotten
Triscuits to show how much I love you.