Wednesday, October 31, 2012

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 11

    On Monday morning I made a dozen calls to various rooms for rent listed on Craig’s List. Either there was no answer at the number or the room had already been rented. At 9:30 AM I headed for Armitage Street and the café where the woman had promised to ask around for me. I arrived at 10:00 AM and the café was empty. The woman that I was looking for came out to meet me.

“Are you still looking for a room to rent?”

“Yes, ma’am. Did you find something for me?”

“I’m not sure. I want you to go talk to Maggie O’Toole.  She lives about eight blocks from here. Here is the address. She’ll be expecting you. She has two dear little girls.  Here is a bag of goodies for them. Tell them that they are from Auntie Marushka.”

I took the directions and the bag of pastries and bagels from Marie and started walking the eight blocks. When I arrived at the address, it was a three story row house that looked the same as all the other houses on that block. I knocked on the door and it was answered by an attractive young woman, probably not yet thirty. She had dark brown hair and milky complexion – a perfect image of a young Irish woman. Her name was Irish; that was her husband’s name. She was Irish also.

“Are you the woman Marie said she was sending to talk to me.”

“Yes, I am interested in renting a room. By the way, Marie sent this bag of pastries for your girls. She said to tell them that they were from Auntie Marushka.”

“Please come in.”

I entered what had once been a large living room with a ceiling at least twelve feet high. There was a fireplace with beautiful tiles and an ornately carved mantel. Despite that, the room was presently used as a storage room. We left the living room and stepped into a sort of foyer. To the right a pair of steep steps led to the second floor. Under the stairs was a tiny room with just a toilet in it. To the left a door led into a narrow walk way through a sort of tunnel out to the street. The walk continued between two small back yards to the alley.

Straight ahead through the foyer there were two vacant rooms about twelve by twelve feet each. There was linoleum in one room, bare wood in the other. Each of the rooms had a gas heater – the kind with ceramic heat reflectors and a row of gas flames along the bottom. Beyond the second room there was a porch which had been crudely enclosed. In it were a laundry tub with a cold water faucet and a gas cook stove. In the small back yard were clothes lines.

Maggie led me upstairs. As you came to the top of the stairs a comfortable living room was straight ahead. A stairway to the third floor was to the right. Walking away from the living room there was a large bathroom to the left. I could see a bathtub and a washer and dryer in there. As we continued to walk back, we stepped down two steps into a large kitchen with a sink, a stove, a refrigerator, a cabinet and a large table and chairs for meals.

Maggie invited me to sit down.  She had a pot of tea and a plate of cookies there. She poured a cup of tea for each of us.

“Here is what I wanted to discuss with you. Marie told me that you are new to Chicago, that you are looking for a room to rent so that you will have an address and can then look for a job.

“This is my situation. My husband left me last fall, just before Thanksgiving. I haven’t heard from him since. I had to go to work to pay the mortgage, the utilities, and buy food. It has been a real struggle. All I know how to do is to be a waitress. It’s hard work, but I have a reputation for being a good waitress. With tips and salary I have just barely scraped by. All along my girls were in school. I was able to work things around the couple hours between the time they came home from school and the time I got home from work.

“Now it is summer vacation for the girls. I have to do something fast, or I will either lose my job or lose my girls. If you will be a sort of nanny for my girls during their summer vacation, I will give you free room and board. Then when they go back to school, you can start looking for a job. I’ll give you free rent until you find a job, and then it will be $60/week from then on. That may not be too attractive a deal, but it is the best I can do. You’ll have to let me know soon.”

“When do you want me to start?”

“Today?  Tomorrow at the latest.”

“When can I meet your girls?”

“They went to a girl friend’s house. They should be home for lunch soon.”

“I’d like to talk to them before I say ‘Yes’ for sure.”

“Fair enough. Go into the living room and sit down and rest. I’ll be making our lunch and they should be coming home soon.”

I sat down on the couch in the living room, and had almost dozed off. I heard the heavy front door bang shut, and two pair of feet running across the room downstairs. As they ran up the stairs, I heard them both talking at once, trying to get their mother’s attention. When they saw me, they both became silent.

Maggie came up from the kitchen.

“Girls, I want you to meet Dolores O’Reilly. That will be Mrs. O’Reilly for you at all times. Dolores, this is Karen. She is eleven years old. This is Kaitlynn. She is eight years old. Karen, Kaitlynn, Mrs. O’Reilly is considering being your nanny for the summer. She wants to talk to to you.”

“I was once in your situation. I never knew my father. All my life I just had a mother. She had to work hard to support the two of us. If I agree to be your nanny, I want you to know that it won’t be as nice as it is being with your mother. She knows your friends’ parents. If you ask to go to someone’s house, she knows if it is safe, if they are people she can trust. I don’t know anyone around here. When you go out, I will have to go with you. If you want to have friends to visit you, no more than two visitors in the house at a time.

“You will have to listen to me and obey me. I won’t always be right. I’ve never been a mother. If you don’t obey me, I will have to tell your mother that I just can’t do it. I know that you would rather have your mother with you all the time, but that can’t be. Can you accept me as a substitute for the summer?”

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. O’Reilly,” they chorused.

They all went into the kitchen. There were tuna fish sandwiches – a whole sandwich for the adults, wth a cup of tea, a half sandwich for the two girls, with milk.

“You may wonder why I only gave you a half sandwich, girls. Your Auntie Marushka sent a bag of pastries for you. I know that you want to save room in your tummies for one of those pastries.”

The girls squealed with joy.

“If you are willing to accept my offer, Dolores, I have to leave for work in the morning at 5:30AM. If you could go back to the motel now, and bring your things over here tonight, you can sleep on the couch in the living room until we can get a bed and a dresser and a chair into one of those rooms downstairs.”

I was dizzy from the swiftness that my life was changing. It was a job for the summer. I could establish residence, open a bank account, get an identification card until I could get a license. I could learn a lot more about Chicago, and be better prepared for job hunting in the fall.

Could I manage two active girls?  I had never had children of my own and I hadn’t been around children. This would certainly be a learning experience for me.

I asked Maggie for directions to the el. I took the train back to the Hostel, and told the clerk that I was checking out early. He went back and spoke to the manager.

“You paid for seven nights, but you only stayed four nights. This is past the check-out time for today. However, I think we can overlook that. Strip all the dirty linen off your bed and the blanket. Put them all in a pile on the floor. Put all the towels and wash cloths that you used on the floor in the bathroom. Come back here in about an hour and I will have a check waiting for you at the desk for the three nights.”

I collected my suitcase from the baggage storage, and went to the dormitory to strip the bed and pack my belonging into the suitcase.  I threw the towel and washcloth on the bathroom floor. I realized that I must buy my own towels, wash cloths, and soap before going back to Maggie O’Toole’s house.

I gathered up the newspaper, all the listings I had printed, and threw them away. I kept the maps and directions to various places. In an hour I was standing at the front desk with my suitcase packed. The clerk smiled and handed me a check for $99. I tucked it into my handbag, and walked outside. I went to the variety store and bought a pair of slippers, a bathrobe, a couple towels, a couple wash cloths, a bar of soap, and some shampoo.

When I arrived back at Maggie O’Toole’s, one of the girls came down to open the front door for me. I put my suitcase and bags in the middle room, then went upstairs. Maggie was making supper. She was making macaroni and cheese, and warming a can of sweet peas. The girls were in the living room watching television. I went into the kitchen.

“Is there anything that I can do to help?”

“I have it under control. This evening at 9:00PM the girls will know to turn off the television. I will read the Bible to them, then we will each pray. You can stay in there with us, or leave the room, whichever you want. Then the girls have the bathroom until 9:30. Then I will go in and get cleaned up and ready for bed. I try to be in bed by 10:00. I have to get up at 5:00AM and be out of the house by 5:30.

“When the girls get up, you make sure they are dressed, and have combed their hair before breakfast. There is oatmeal or dried cereal for their breakfast. Make sure they brush their teeth after each meal. After that, you are on your own. I’ll probably be home by 4:00 PM. Give me your cell phone number, and if I have to work later, I’ll call you. Be sure to keep it turned on, and carry it with you in case I have to get in touch with you. I’ll give you my cell phone number. Don’t call me unless it is an emergency. Don’t forget to charge your cell phone.”

After supper, Maggie sat on the couch watching television with Karen on one side of her, and Kaitlynn on the other side. I sat in a chair. At 9:00PM, Kaitlynn stood up, and turned off the television. Karen went over to a stand, took the Bible off the shelf on the bottom, and carried it to her mother. Maggie read one of the parables of Jesus. She asked the girls what they thought the parable meant. After a brief discussion, Maggie prayed. She asked for God’s help in raising the girls, and asked His blessing on them. She asked for help at her work. She thanked God for sending Dolores, and asked Him to bless her. Then they all said the Lord’s Prayer.

While the girls and then Maggie were in the bathroom, I went downstairs. I took one of the towels and laid it on the floor. Then I put clean underwear, stockings, shoes, and dress from the suitcase onto the towel ready for tomorrow. I undressed, put the dirty clothes on another towel. I pulled on my night gown, put on my new slippers and bathrobe. I carried the towel with the dirty clothes upstairs. Maggie had turned the volume on the television low so that I could watch it                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

As Maggie came out of the bathroom, she said to me,

“Don’t forget to charge your cell phone ,and leave your cell phone number on the kitchen table. I’ll leave my number there for you.”

“Okay. And please write down the address of your house.”

I looked in my pocketbook for the cell phone, the charger, and the paper on which I had written my cell phone number. I copied the number and put it on the kitchen table. Then I plugged the charger into a socket in the living room and connected my cell phone to the charger.

I took a long, soaking bath. Then I washed all the clothes I had worn that day in the bathtub before I drained the water. Downstairs there was a rod, probably sawn from an old broomstick, in the doorway between the two rooms. It was intended for a curtain but I used it to hang my wet clothes to dry. Then I went back upstairs, lay down on the couch, pulled a blanket over me, and went to sleep.

 

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 10


Monday morning after roll call, Willard had to report to Captain Castor.

“Sergeant O’Reilly, close the door. Sit down. I want you to tell me what happened to you yesterday on that domestic disturbance call.”

“Yes, sir. As you know my wife left me last Tuesday morning. Prior to that, we were growing apart. I don’t know when it began, but I would criticize her, say mean things, and insult her. I guess that I had it coming to me when she left.

“When we came to the house where there was a disturbance, I recognized the man. We are in the same bowling league and I had bowled against him several times. There he stood shouting insults at his wife, calling her names.  I recognized that those were the same things I had said to my wife and in that tone of voice. It was like I was seeing myself.

“Across the room his wife lay half conscious. She was bruised and bleeding. He had worked her over something terrible. I felt like beating the blue blazes out of him, but I didn’t. I handcuffed him, told him that I was arresting him for aggravated assault, and read him his Miranda rights.

“I took him out to the patrol car and put him in the back seat. Patrolman Colvin had called for an ambulance and was with the wife. He kept talking like we were buddies, and that men had to stick together. After I put him into the back seat of the patrol car, and stood up, the grief of losing Dolores really hit me hard. Somehow, mixed with my revulsion at how badly beaten the wife was, I was recognizing myself in his abusive language. When it all combined, it was like an explosion inside of me. I disgorged everything in my stomach, and staggered to the steps where I bawled like a baby. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never done anything like that in my whole life.”

“I believe you, Sergeant. You’ve heard that old saying, ‘Every dog is entitled to one bite.’  No harm was done. You arrested the attacker, handcuffed him, and put him in the patrol car before you allowed yourself to release your emotions. I’m not going to refer you to counseling. This is not going on your record even as verbal counseling. I’m going to let you be the judge. If you need counseling, then you go on your own volition. If you need time off, now or later, to deal with this, to get away, take some leave time. You are a good officer. I respect you. I’m proud to have you in my command.”

Willard knew that he had been given a pass.

In the patrol car, the air was frigid between him and Ginger. As they pulled out on the highway, he saw a pickup truck with two men and bearing Texas license. Mud was smeared over the license so that he couldn’t make out the numbers. He turned on his blue lights and pulled up close behind the truck. The truck neither slowed down nor speeded up.  He used his loudspeaker, “SLOW DOWN! PULL OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD,  AND STOP!”   The truck continued at the same pace.  He repeated his message. He called to the dispatcher and asked him to call the County Sheriff’s department and the State Police. He asked permission to continue to pursue until a County or State Police joined pursuit.

“The Lieutenant says to continue to tail the truck, but do not attempt to stop it on your own. If it is the smugglers, they are heavily armed.”

He continued to tail the truck. It seemed to ignore him.

Ginger said, “We really should not have begun this pursuit. Our patrol area is within the town of Prattsville.”

After a while a State Police car joined them. The State Police trooper pulled alongside the truck and motioned it to pull over. Eventually it did. The State Policeman pulled in front of the truck, Willard pulled in behind. With his loudspeaker he told the driver to turn off the engine. The driver ignored him and kept the motor running.

Ginger said, “Maybe he is Mexican and doesn’t understand English.”

The trooper was walking toward the driver’s side of the truck. Willard got out, pulled his pistol and was covering the trooper. Suddenly the truck roared back, slammed into Willard’s patrol car, cut sharply to the left and roared out into the stream of traffic. Willard had jumped to keep from getting crushed between the truck and the patrol car. The trooper was directly in the path of the truck and had to leap for the side of the road. The truck had pulled right into the path of an oncoming car in that lane. Willard could not fire because of the danger of hitting the oncoming car.

He told Ginger to call the dispatcher and report what had happened. He ran over to the trooper to see if he was hurt. He helped the trooper stand up. The trooper couldn’t put weight on his right foot. He thought the bumper of the truck grazed his foot as he was leaping out of the way. Willard helped him sit sideways on the seat of his car and found a blanket to put around him. The trooper was starting to feel pain and was showing signs of shock. Willard ran back to his car and told Ginger to call for an ambulance.

The dispatcher said that the ambulance was out of the County and asked if they could transport the trooper. Ginger came up and told Willard.

“Pull our patrol car up alongside. I’ll help him get into the passenger side of our patrol car. Then I’ll drive his car behind you to the hospital. Call the dispatcher and tell him what we are doing. When you get to the hospital, drive right up into the emergency entrance. Turn on your siren, and don’t waste time. I don’t like his looks.”

They raced back to town. As Ginger was pulling into the Emergency entrance, Willard stopped, jumped out of the trooper’s car, ran into the Emergency Room.

“We need some help out here. Bring a gurney. A State Policeman is injured. I think he has gone into shock.”

Willard got out of the way while a nurse and an aide ran outside with a gurney. They lifted the trooper out of the car and onto the gurney. Willard followed them inside. A woman doctor, so short she didn’t come up to his shoulder, asked him what had happened.

“We had stopped a truck out on the highway. The trooper was approaching the driver’s side.  I was standing behind the truck to cover him. Suddenly, the truck roared backwards slamming into my patrol car. Then it cut sharply to the left and leapt forward into approaching traffic. The trooper jumped toward the side of the highway, out of the truck’s way. When I went to help him up, he couldn’t put weight on his right foot. He said that he thought that the bumper of the truck caught his foot. I helped him get to the seat of his car to sit down. By then his face was ashen and he was starting to sweat. I got a blanket and put around him.”

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“Yes, but they said it was out of the County and asked if we could transport him.”

“Thank you. They are getting him stable now. Later, we will x-ray his foot. Have you notified his family?”

“I’ll do that.”

He followed Ginger back to the station. When he exited the State Police car, he locked it, went around and tested that every door was locked, and took the keys inside and entrusted them to the Desk Sergeant.

From the station, he called the State Police headquarters. He informed them of what had happened, that their trooper was in the Emergency Room, and his car was parked here at the station. He said that things had happened so fast that he never even got the trooper’s name. The trooper’s family had not been notified as far as he knew. He went by the dispatcher’s room and asked if they had heard whether any other police units were in pursuit of the truck.

“I passed the information on to the County dispatcher and the State Police dispatcher. I haven’t heard any more.”

After he wrote up the report, he found Ginger and they went out on patrol again.

At the end of the shift he stopped at the hospital Emergency Room to ask about the trooper. Anyhow, he needed the trooper’s name to finish his report. He saw the doctor and asked about the trooper.

“He had more than a sprained ankle. He had had an impact on that leg that caused a nasty break up and down the bone. You are very lucky that in transporting him you did not cause more damage or even sever an artery. You did what you were told to do, but it could have ended much worse than it did. As it is, he is in serious, but stable condition.”

 

Thursday, October 18, 2012

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 9

    Saturday morning I arose early. Everyone else was sleeping in my dormitory. I took my clean dress into the rest room along with my pocketbook and the needles and thread. I put most of my money in the two pockets and then sewed them shut with large stitches. It didn’t take long and now I felt more at ease. I went out to breakfast and then went in search of a newspaper. I took it to my bed and put it under her pillow. This evening I would scan the classified section for rooms for rent and also for jobs.

The walking tour was at 11:00 AM and I was signed up for it. First I was going to go to the Library. I wanted to use a computer to get directions off the Chicago Transit Authority website for St. Stanislaus Church – I wanted to go there tomorrow – and then directions to some of the other streets with Polish bakeries that might be Polish neighborhoods – Addison, Courtland, Belmont, and Halstead. Finally, I wanted to look on Craig’s List to see if there were any Rooms For Rent listed on it.

I was at the Library when it opened at 9:00 AM. I was able to print out the maps and directions I wanted, and I found a couple of promising ads on Craig’s List. I left the Library at 10:40, raced to the Hostel, put the printed sheets under my pillow with the newspaper, and joined the group in the Lobby at exactly 11:00 AM. The leader was just beginning to speak.

We went to Millenium Park, Buckingham Fountain, and the Art Institute. We ate lunch in the lunch room there. From there we went to the Field Museum, and then to the Shedd Aquarium. We didn’t go into the Museum or Aquarium but just walked by them so we would know they were there and could visit them at leisure on our own. When we returned to the Hostel, I was exhausted.

I went out to the store to buy a head scarf. I remembered from my youth that when I went to Catholic church with my girl friends, we had to cover our heads inside the church. Some of my girl friends would put a fancy handkerchief on top of their head and fasten it in place with bobby pins.

After eating a hard roll with deviled ham for supper, I took out the TracFone™  I bought. I had to use the payphone in the lobby to call TracFone™  to activate the phone and to add the extra minutes I bought. After I hung up, I called the payphone from my TracFone™  to complete the activation process.

I decided to call Willard. This would be his second night off. I called our number and the phone rang and rang but there was no answer. About five minutes later I called again. Still no answer. I didn’t know what to think. Was something wrong at their house, something wrong with Willard?  Every policeman’s wife has a never-ending fear that their husband will be injured or killed on the job. Maybe my TracFone™ ™ wasn’t working yet. It had called the payphone number all right. Maybe it took longer before it could make interstate calls. I will try tomorrow.

For now I had the newspaper classified ads, the Rooms To Rent list off Craig’s List, and the maps I had printed to go through. I had enough paper to make a nest.

The next morning at breakfast I sat across from a Japanese girl. Natsuki introduced herself and said,

“Are you a tourist from Europe?”

“No, do I seem European?

“In some ways, I guess. Forgive me. I should not be so bold.”

“I am originally from Baltimore, Maryland. For twenty-five years I lived in a town in southern Arkansas. Now I have come to Chicago to start a new life. Are you a tourist?  Your English is very good.”

“Thank you. My father is an executive with Nissan Motors. We have lived in America for three years now. I went to an American high school for two years and I have just finished my first year at Case Western University. It is possible that my father will be transferred back to Corporate Headquarters in Nishi-ku, Yokohama.  I want to travel around America this summer and take a lot of pictures to remember it.”

“I am going to services at St. Stanislaus Church this morning. I remember while I was living in Arkansas that a powerful Senator named Rostenkowski made them change plans for the route of the Kennedy Expressway, because it would have meant tearing down St. Stanislaus Church. So I want to go there, attend services there. I haven’t been to church in over twenty-five years.”

“I know this is bold, but can I come with you?  What time are you leaving?”

“I’d be glad to have your company. We can leave whenever we are ready. Catholic Churches usually have one service after another on Sunday morning. You will have to cover your head inside the church. I bought a scarf last night to wear.”

“I have a pretty scarf I can take. I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

We walked down to Jackson and got on the Blue Line going toward O’Hare. When we were almost to Division, where we got off, the el crossed over the Kennedy Expressway.

St. Stanislaus Church was filled with people. Natsuki and I looked for a place to sit. I almost fell over a lady because I forgot that Catholics kneel and cross themselves before moving into their pew. I saw that the only women with scarves or hats were very old ladies.

To say that the Church was ornate hardly describes it. There were statues, wood carvings, paintings, gold, jewels, marble.

The priest was wearing a microphone. Even so I could not understand anything he was saying during the ritual. I could hear his sermon clearly. The ushers came through taking the offering. When the priest began the Mass I again could not understand what he was saying. Soon the ushers were taking groups forward to receive communion. I got up and motioned for Natsuki to follow me. Some people seemed annoyed, but I know the word Mass came from the word “Dismiss” meaning nonbelievers should leave.

Outside I explained, “Only people who have been baptized and confirmed in the Catholic Church can take communion.”

“I understand. Let me take some pictures of the Church. You stand by the signboard and I’ll have your picture and the name of the Church”

While Natsuki was taking pictures, I noticed the pigeons. I had been so busy going here and there that I really hadn’t noticed them before. They were everywhere.

As we walked to the el, Natsuki  said, “You said that you wanted to start a new life. What did you mean?”

I briefly explained what had brought me to this junction in life.

“I think that I understand. Japanese men expect women to be their slaves. They can also be very mean to their wives. The younger generation of Japanese women are not satisfied with that. They want more of a role that, if not equal, is at least respectable, honorable.

“Did you know that some early Christian believers in Japan were crucified?  It is true. I think that there were twenty-six in all. It was in 1597 in Nagasaki. The rulers were trying to wipe out Christianity in Japan. They succeeded pretty much. Christianity never did grow in Japan like it has in other Asian countries like China, the Philippines, and Korea.”

“No, I don’t know as much about Christianity as a lot of Americans do.”

We walked to the Blue Line and got on. At Jackson we got off and began to look for a nice place to eat. By chance we came upon a Japanese restaurant.

“Let’s go in here Natsuki. You can introduce me to your culture.”

Natsuki ordered in Japanese so I didn’t know what to expect.     

 Our meal came on a quadrangular tray with a number of various sized sections. The largest section contained rice. On the tray was a package of chopsticks.

“I’m sorry, Natsuki. I’ve never eaten with chopsticks. Would you ask the waitress to bring me a fork?”

“Yes, of course.”

I could not recognize any of the foods. There were spoonfuls of several condiments in the very center of the tray. One was yellow and looked like mustard. When I started to dip a piece of meat into it, Natsuki giggled. “Be very careful. That is wasabi. It will feel like a fiery coal in your mouth.”

The tea was fragrant but very mild in taste. We both drank many cups of tea as we talked. I told her a little bit about life in southern Arkansas, and that I never was able to make friends the twenty-five years that I lived there.

“I can’t imagine that you didn’t have friends. It seems like you and I have become friends already. You are like my mother to me.”

“How does your mother like America.”

“Unfortunately, my mother died when I was a young girl. My father has raised me as a single parent. That is very unusual in Japan. Of course, he could always hire nannies and housekeepers. Some of them were very cruel to me but I never told him.”

“My mother raised me as a single parent. My father left her before I was born. She worked hard to raise me. I don’t know how she did it. By the time that I was a teenager she was bitter. My maiden name is Polish. My father must have been Polish, although my mother wasn’t. A lot of my girl friends were Polish. When I went to church I would go with them. I never joined and my mother never went to church.”

“I know that you are looking for a place to live so you don’t have an address. I’ll give you my address. When you have an address, will you send it to me?  I’d like to write to you and I’d like for you to write to me. I can tell you things like I would tell my mother if she were alive.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Of course I will, Natsuki.”

We walked on back to the Hostel together. I said,

“I am going to indulge in an American tradition, a Sunday afternoon nap.”  

Natsuki giggled and they hugged “good-bye.”

When I awoke from my nap, I went to the kitchen and made a supper of my remaining hard roll, tuna fish, two fruit cups, and a cup of coffee. Then I went back to my bed in the dormitory and gathered up the newspaper, the maps, the printouts and took them to the lobby.

When I looked at the clock in the lobby, I realized that Willard might be home by now. I called our number. Willard answered.

“Willard, this is Dolores.”

“Dolores, where are you?  Are you all right?”

“I am all right, Willard. I am in a motel in Chicago. I left by myself. I didn’t leave you for another man. I just have to be on my own and prove to myself that I can make it on my own. You called me a fat sow who laid around watching television all day. The first part of that was becoming true. I was getting fat. I had started exercising and walking and I’m not as fat as I was at the beginning of the year. I didn’t lay around all day. I did a lot of work for you, as I suspect you are discovering.”

“Yes, I am learning every day what all you did for me. I have been an ungrateful jerk.”

“That is all past. I don’t hold any grudge against you. But Willard, my mother used to say negative things; for at least the last fifteen years you have been saying negative things about me.  My image of myself is pretty low. I need time to convince myself of my own self-worth. I can’t love you until I love myself. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know if I understand. I know that I am more sorry than you can believe for all the mean things I said to you. Today I had to go out on a domestic disturbance call. The man had beat up his wife pretty bad. While I was arresting him and his wife was half conscious on the floor, he was saying some of the same things I used to say to you. It really got to me. After I put him in the back seat of the patrol car, I threw up and then I went over to the steps of his house, sat down, and cried my eyes out. Ginger reported me for it.”

“I’m sorry, Willard. That wasn’t right what Ginger did.”

“Will you come back, Dolores?”

“I can’t. Not now. Maybe sometime in the future. I’ll call you in about a month. I should have an address by then. Good-bye, Willard.”

“Good-bye, Dolores. I love you.”

I was shaken up by several things. I couldn’t image Willard being so emotionally upset that he vomited and sat down to bawl his eyes out. I was upset that he said, “I love you.”  He hadn’t said that in years. It made my decision harder.

 

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 8

     Willard got up early on Saturday morning. He had one more day off. He fixed a breakfast of instant oatmeal and instant coffee and orange juice. Then he went outside to look around the property. The grass definitely needed mowing. He went into the garage and found the mower. He also found the gasoline can. He filled the gasoline tank and started pulling on the rope. When he was completely out of breath, he sat down on the step and rested a few minutes. Then he pushed the mower out to the car and put it into the trunk.

“I’ll take it to Grady Olson and let him fix it. I wonder how Dolores has been managing to cut the grass with this mower?”

He walked around the house looking at the gutters and the clapboard siding. The gutters were sagging in several places. The clapboard needed to be painted, but first he would have to scrub off the black mold and the dirt from the boards before painting them. He could see that he was going to be busy for the next month scrubbing and painting. For now he would get the ladder and put those sagging gutters back in place. They were probably filled with leaves. He’d go all around the house flushing the dirt and leaves out of the gutters.

First he needed to take the mower to Grady OIson so that it would be ready the next time that he was on break. When he drove up to Grady’s business establishment, an old garage building behind his house, Willard took the mower out of the trunk. He wheeled it into the garage and waited for Grady to look up from the rototiller that he was working on.

“Would you fix this up for me, Grady?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It won’t start. It probably needs the blades sharpened and a new plug and air filter.”

“When you go to the doctor, do you tell him what to do?”

“No.”

“Then don’t tell me. When are you coming back for it?”

“Next Friday morning.”

 “It’ll be ready.”

Next ,he went to the hardware store to get some brackets for the gutters. Then he remembered that he needed fruit, soda, and bottles of tea from the grocery.

Sandy Briscoe was at the check-out counter.

“Is your wife sick, Sergeant O’Reilly?”

“No, why?”

“She is the one who usually buys the groceries.”

“Is that so?”

He took the groceries and drove home. He put the groceries in the refrigerator. Then he took the brackets from the car, went to the garage for some tools and climbed up the ladder to repair the gutter.

As he suspected, the gutters were filled with a sludge of dirt and sand from the shingles topped with a layer of leaves. He went back down the ladder and connected the hose. He turned on the water and climbed back up the ladder with the hose. He cleaned the gutter the whole length of the one side of the house. Then he installed the new brackets. He repeated this process on the other sides of the house. The gutters now hung properly.

By this time it was early afternoon. He was really hungry. He opened a can of ravioli and put it on the stove to heat. He took the carton of cole slaw, an apple, and a bottle of tea from the refrigerator. By then the ravioli was simmering in the pan. He let it simmer while he put a plate and a fork and spoon on the table. He poured all of the ravioli out on the plate and put the pot in the sink to soak. He sat down to enjoy a welcome repast.

That afternoon he started washing down the clapboards. He began by working on the ladder, washing the clapboards beginning at the eaves of the roof. One advantage to starting high is that the soapy water ran down onto the boards that he would be doing next.

He worked hard and was finished by the time it was dark. He put the ladder, tools, hose, and scrub bucket away. He was really hungry but he was so dirty that he couldn’t do anything until he had a shower. Never mind a shower. The way his back and legs were hurting from climbing up and down the ladder, he needed a hot bath to soak away his pain.

While he was in the bath tub the phone rang several times.

“Whoever it is can call back later.”.

He was so hungry he could eat a cardboard box. He thought of going to the Acropolis Café but he was too tired to drive. He thought of ordering a pizza delivered but he was too hungry to wait. In the end he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on two slices of bread. He ate a banana and drank a glass of milk to go along with it. He ate while sitting in his recliner watching television.

He woke up in the middle of the night. The empty milk glass was on the table, the banana peel had dropped on the floor. He got up, carried the saucer and the empty glass to the sink, and threw the banana peel in the trash. He went upstairs, set the alarm and crawled into bed. He was soon sound asleep.

The Chief of Police in Prattsville, Arkansas was Captain Hollis Castor. Ginger Sackman was their first female patrolman. She had good scores on all her tests at the State Law Enforcement Academy. He assigned her to Sergeant Willard O’Reilly as her partner. After several days working with him, she came back to Captain Castor madder than a wet hen, a wet red hen that is.

“He is rude and crude. He doesn’t do anything the way they taught us at the Academy. He isn’t friendly to me at all. Please put me on with someone else.”

“Ginger, he was a military policeman for three years, and he has been on this force for twenty-five years. He has handled some very sticky situations. He is tough and smart and has good instincts. Forget about liking him. Just watch him, copy him, learn from him. You’ll be glad that I partnered you with him.”

Ginger swore to herself that some way, somehow, she would get another partner.

Willard came to roll call aching all over. He had taken two aspirins but they hadn’t helped at all.

Lieutenant Hageman, the shift commander, said,

“We received a “heads up” from the Memphis Police Department. They have been catching a few drug smugglers carrying drugs in pickup trucks. Evidently these trucks pick up drugs in Texas and Arizona that have already been brought across the border. They are taking them to Nashville, Louisville, and points beyond. The drugs are usually found in the big tool box in the front of the pickup bed.

“They had been catching them on I-40. Now they believe that the smugglers are sticking to dirt roads and state highways to avoid the inspection stops on the Interstates. They believe the smugglers are coming through our county on their way to the Mississippi River bridge at Helena. Keep your eyes open. If you stop a suspicious truck, call in and I’ll try to get a warrant to search it.”

After roll call, Willard and Ginger went out to their patrol car.

“Did you find out any more about your wife?”

“I decided not to pursue it. Since I know that she wasn’t kidnapped and didn’t leave by coercion, I didn’t see the point in trying to find out where she went. Since there is no crime involved, it would probably be illegal for me to use any of the police department’s resources. I filed a missing person report. That is as far as I am going to go.”

“If I walked out on my husband, I would want him to try to find me.”

It was Sunday, so they checked the front and back of the businesses on their patrol beat. They made sure the doors were locked and none of the windows were open. They took turns. He would do one business, she would do the next one. They had a call that an alarm was ringing outside a small warehouse where the driver stored Frito-LayTM products that he delivered to stores. They waited at the warehouse until the driver arrived, opened the door, turned off the alarm, and checked all around inside while Sergeant O’Reilly walked along with him.

Willard remembered about the mower being at Grady Olson’s. He couldn’t get it today, it is Sunday.

It was nearly noon and Willard wanted to get to the bakery for his Sunday treat. On Sundays he would get a jelly filled doughnut, a piece of cherry cheesecake, or maybe a sweet roll. He always picked something different. He always got a big coffee to go. Then he would sit in the patrol car, eat his thousand-calory Sunday indulgence, and drink his coffee. That was lunch for him on Sundays. Ginger would take out her bag lunch, thank him for the coffee he brought to her, and eat sensibly. Today Willard had a large size doughnut which was overstuffed with blueberry filling.

“Ginger, there are whole blueberries in this filling!  Are you sure that I can’t get one for you?”

His doughnut was only half eaten when there was a call for them on the computer screen. It was a domestic disturbance which had been called in by neighbors. Reluctantly Willard dropped his half-eaten doughnut into the bag.

“Ginger, be extra careful when we get there. You stay behind me unless I tell you otherwise. There is nothing more dangerous, more volatile, than a domestic disturbance call. I’ve had wives come to the door screaming, ‘Help me, he’s going to kill me. He beat me. He pulled a knife on me.’  Then when you arrest, and start to put handcuffs on him, the wife will turn on you, maybe with the same knife, or say, ‘Don’t take him. He has to go to work tomorrow. We can’t afford for him to lose any more days from work.’”

When Willard drove up to the house, he recognized it. It belonged to one of the guys in his bowling league. He had bowled against him.

As they approached the house, the sound of a man’s angry voice could be heard.

“You fat, lazy sow. You lay around the house watching television while I go out to work. It looks like you could do some house cleaning and cook a decent meal once in a while.”

Willard’s heart was racing, his gut was churning. He recognized those words as being the same as he had used on Dolores many times.

He banged loudly on the door. “POLICE DEPARTMENT. OPEN THE DOOR!  OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”

“YOU DIRTY B****. YOU CALLED THE POLICE.”

“OPEN THE DOOR OR I’LL BUST IT DOWN!”

The door was opened by a very angry man dressed only in boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Across the room a woman was lying up against the wall. Willard couldn’t tell if she was conscious or not. She was bleeding; her lip was swelling; there was an angry red patch on her cheek. Willard pushed him out of the doorway. “Ginger, see about the woman. Call an ambulance. I’ll take care of this scum bag.”

He whirled the man around, put handcuffs on him, told him that he was under arrest for aggravated assault, and read him his Miranda rights. Then he escorted him out to the patrol car and put him into the back seat.

“Willard, what are you doing?  We are bowling buddies. We men have to stick together or these women will take us to the cleaners and suck the blood right out of us. It used to be a man’s world. Not any more.”

Willard felt something come over him. It had started when he heard the man using the same language about his wife as he had used about Dolores. He detested the man for what he had done to his wife. That was transferred to himself. When he saw the woman, what the man had done to her, how he justified it, was still justifying it, it all kept building up in Willard. To these were added all the grief and shame attached to Dolores leaving him. It all built up to a critical mass and then exploded from within him. Willard hurled his insides out onto the curb and the side of the police car. He went back to the steps of the house and began crying and wailing.

Just then the ambulance arrived and Ginger had to run out and tell the EMTs that the victim was inside.

After the woman was loaded into the ambulance they made a quick check of the house. They drove to the station where they booked the abusive husband. Willard told Ginger to write it up. The watch commander gave him permission to go home, get cleaned up, and change his uniform. Ginger wrote an additional memo detailing his emotional display in the course of the arrest.

When Willard returned, he was called into the office by Lieutenant Hageman.

“Sergeant O’Reilly, Patrolman Sackman has reported your emotional outburst during an investigation of domestic disturbance today. I know that you found out that your wife left you last week. If you were my partner, I would have kept that between us. Since Patrolman Sackman has included it in her report, I have no choice but to forward it on to Captain Castor. He will probably send you to counseling sessions. I’m sorry.”

 

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 7

I had a restless night. The other women in my room seemed nice but I still was afraid that someone would steal my money. I don’t question that I did the right thing in leaving Willard. It is just that I am in a position now with so many unknowns. There are so many things to fear. The first priority has to be to find someplace to live. Without an address I can’t look for a job. Without an address I can’t open a bank account. Without an address I can’t buy the Chicago Plus rail and bus pass which gives unlimited rides for a month. I can only buy a Chicago Pass and each ride is deducted from the amount deposited on the card. Without an address I can’t even register the Chicago Pass. If I lose it, anyone can use it.

In the morning, sharing the bathroom and showers with seven other women was a real circus. I took my empty suitcase out to the luggage storage on the way to breakfast. Breakfast at the Hostel was generous. All of the guests were friendly. I sat with another woman my age named Ouida. Ouida was from Nebraska. When I asked her where she was traveling and what she wanted to see, she said,

“I lived for forty-five years in the same farm community in Nebraska. There were no more than a hundred people that I saw all my life. I married a boy who lived on the farm down the road. We had a happy life together, raised two children, worked hard, loved each other more every year. Last year Fred was trying to clear a jam in the manure spreader. It grabbed him and pulled him into it. Then somehow the tractor kicked into gear. Someone in a neighboring field saw his tractor and the manure spreader going round and round in the field. He ran over and saw what had happened. There wasn’t much left of Fred.

“I cried and cried for days on end. Then I was in a daze for months. My kids would come and ask me what I was going to do about the farm. I guess I just gave them a blank stare. Neither of them is interested in being a farmer. Finally, just before spring I decided to sell the farm. I divided the sale price into thirds – one third for each of our children, one third for me. I had a mover come and put our things in storage. Now I’m going to see America. I went to Mount Rushmore, the Mall of America, now Chicago. From here I’m going to Niagara Falls, then Boston, and Maine. I don’t know where I’ll go to from there. If I find a place I like, I will settle down there. I’m never going back to Nebraska.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes. What a horrible experience Ouida had been through. I wished that I could travel to all those places. No, I don’t. My purpose is to prove to myself that I can support myself. From there, I want
to prove to myself that I have worth as a human being. If I had, in truth, been a “fat sow who stayed home watching television”, those days are ended.

After breakfast, I went out into the busy Chicago streets. The first place I went was to a large drugstore. I found one near the Hostel. I purchased a TracFone for $29.95 and bought a 200 minutes/90 days card for $39.95. While there I bought a couple pairs of pantyhose and a small bottle of shampoo.

Back at the hostel I went on the Internet for directions to the Chicago Transit Authority, and from there to Clifton Street and Armitage Avenue. While in the lounge at Union Station, I had searched for Polish bakeries knowing that these would lead me to the Polish neighborhoods. I grew up in a Polish neighborhood in Baltimore. My maiden name is the same as a Polish hero of the Second World War. I never knew my father. He walked out on my mother before I was born. I thought that in a Polish neighborhood I might find a room for rent.

I walked to the Library and went into the subway station for the Pink Line. I took the train going to 54/Cermak and got off at the Clinton-Green station.  From there it was about a block to the Chicago Transit Authority headquarters. I was directed to the second floor and there I bought a Transit Pass. I deposited a hundred dollars on the card.

Going back to the subway station, I took the Pink Line to the Loop and got off at Clark/Lake station. There I took the Brown Line going toward Kimball and got off at the Armitage station.

Riding on the trains, I was still worrying about how I could secure my money. I can’t be carrying a pocketbook all the time. I can’t open a bank account without an address. Then I glanced down at my dress. Both of my dresses have pockets. I will put most of the money in the two pockets and sew them closed. I’ll just leave out what I expect to spend that day. I can easily take out the stitches when I change dresses.

When I disembarked from the el and walked down to street level, the neighborhood I saw was very much like the old neighborhoods in Baltimore. I walked down the street for several blocks, hoping to see a ROOMS FOR RENT sign. I knew that I was in a Polish neighborhood. In many of the store windows was a sign for Zywiec beer. Through the windows of the houses could be seen pictures of Pope John Paul II, President John F. Kennedy, and the Black Madonna of Czestochowa.

I was tired, thirsty, and hungry when I came upon a neighborhood café. I went inside, sat down, and was soon facing the woman who ran the café.

“What can I get you to drink, Sweetie?  A beer, ice tea, coffee?”

“I’ll have an iced tea, please. Do you have hard rolls and cream cheese?  If so, that is what I would like to eat.”

“I have hard rolls and cream cheese, but how about a pirogi filled with berries and topped with sour cream.”

“Oh, that sounds so good, yes, bring me that instead.”

When the lady returned with my iced tea and the pirogi, I said,

“This neighborhood reminds me of my childhood. I grew up in a Polish neighborhood in Baltimore. My maiden name is Kosciuszko. This brings back a lot of happy memories.”

“What brings you to this neighborhood, Sweetie?”

“I’ve come to Chicago to start a new life. I’m looking for a room to rent. I was hoping that I would see a sign in one of the windows ‘Room For Rent.'”

“You say that you are starting a new life. Did you just get out of prison?”

Dolores laughed. “My husband and I broke up. I couldn’t bear to remain in that little town in Arkansas where we were living. I decided to go to Chicago to begin my new life. I need to find a place to live, first thing. I can’t apply for a job or anything else until I have an address.”

Just then a customer came in. She patted me on the shoulder, “I’ll ask around. If you haven’t found anything by then, come back in to see me Monday morning about 10:00 AM. That will be between the breakfast and lunch crowds.”

“Thank you.”

I had a leisurely late lunch. I left a generous tip at the table, went to the restroom, and then paid for my lunch on the way out.

“I’ll ask around for you, Sweetie.”

I continued to walk along Armitage Street, then walked over a block and came down the street parallel to it. I saw a sign “Rooms For Rent” and my heart leaped. I walked up to the door and knocked. It was answered by a women whose clothes were dirty, her hair was in disarray. Dogs were yapping all around her. The air coming from the house was foul. I said, “I’m sorry I must have the wrong address. “ I left rapidly.

I hadn’t even considered the fact that the rooms for rent might be in dirty homes, that there might be dogs and cats roaming the house, or that the residents of the house might not be desirable people to live with.

I hurried on down the street for several blocks until I saw the elevated line. I turned right and followed it back to the station at Armitage Street. Now I have to take the Brown line going back to the Loop. From there I take the Pink Line back to the Library and walk back to the Hostel. Along the way, I looked for a store where I could buy needles, thread, and scissors.

Back at the Hostel I gratefully lay down on the bed to rest. I realized that I would soon go to sleep lying there. I had to go out again and buy a few groceries at the store for supper tonight and for some meals during the weekend. I bought some hard rolls, a package of fruit cups, cream cheese, a can of deviled ham, and a small can of tuna fish. I also bought a box of seven single serve packets of instant coffee and a sampler box of herbal tea bags.

When I returned to the Hostel, I prepared a simple meal of hard roll with cream cheese, fruit cup, and coffee. The cream cheese and fruit cups I put in the refrigerator. The remaining items I left in the grocery bag with my name written on it on a shelf in the kitchen.

Looking at the bulletin board, I saw that there would be a walking tour tomorrow. I decided to go.