Nancy: The Fixer

For reasons I don't know, thoughts of my oldest sister, Nancy, have flooded my mind these past several days. Nancy was thirteen years older than me.  Nancy was pregnant with my first niece, Terri, only weeks after Mom delivered my younger sister, Lydia.  Despite the near constant upheaval and turmoil that dominated Nancy's life, she was always regarded as, "The Fixer," by the immediate family in times of crises.

I considered this role of Nancy's. Why oh why did we seek her counsel during those darkest of times? I may never learn the answer to that question. Regardless, in times of crises, Nancy ALWAYS rose to the occasion. 

She knew what to do. She directed. She delegated. She networked. She always said yes.  How many nights did I spend as a teen at her place when Mom and Dad were their most violent?  Who did Lydia go to when she needed to leave a marriage? Who did Susan send Ray to when he needed a new home? Who did Bill call when he lost his job? Who did Mom lean on when Grandma died?

Yet, Nancy was, by far, the most troubled of us all. The one with  the most heartache and hardship. Drama filled Nancy's life.  

Nancy was a prodigy. A genius. She was morbidly obese and a chain smoker. 

She read Heidi out loud to me when I was in elementary school. She took me to see Rosemary's Baby at the drive-in when I was 13. She let me sleep on her couch so many times in my life. 

All of us knew: You can always stay with Nancy.

So, yeah. I've been thinking a lot about Nancy in recent days. Not sure why. Probably an old age thing.  

If any of you reading this have some similar Reflections of Nancy, please share!

Nancy, w Terri on her lap. Mom (l) Grandma (r)

The Hard Goodbyes are the Hardest

I don't know where to start, so I'll just dive in... Early Wednesday morning July 5, Marzipan was attacked by another animal(s) in our driveway. I found him a short while after the attack quite dead from the injuries he sustained. 

All day long, I kept him inside away from the fireworks and in a separate part of the house, away from the dogs I was caring for. Cats were on one side of the house. Dogs in another. After dark and after several hours of lots and lots of fireworks, things seemed to quiet down. What I did next I will always regret. After begging for whole minutes to go outside, in a moment of poor judgement, I opened the front door and let him out. I intended it to be for only a ten, maybe fifteen, minute break. But, Marzipan never returned.  Several hours later, when I found him, he was stiff, and chewed up by what appears to have been some loose dogs who cornered him in his own damn driveway. 

I'm numb. I'm sick. I'm in a state of disbelief. Given his age, I knew sometime would be his last time, which made me wonder what a Marzipan-less life might be like. How will I walk the dogs knowing he isn't anywhere behind? How will I get to sleep without his warm, purring body against mine? What will it be like to pull up in the driveway and not have him greet me? These all felt like such esoteric questions for "someday". 

But, this day is now. Now starts my life without Marzipan. And I'm not ready.

If you knew Marzipan you maybe understand how his death leaves such a void. He was such a huge personality. When he looks at you, "He looks right into your soul," Tori once said about him. The stories about him are seemingly endless. Like, the time he hitched a ride home in a low-rider. Or, the time the neighbor found Marz inside his house and sleeping on his bed. Or, how willingly he rode in a car. He accompanied me when I walked the dogs as if it was his job. Once, he followed me all the way around Sloans Lake. More than once he followed me to Loretto Heights Park and back. He would follow me anywhere, if I let him. 

But, ever since his death, I continue to see him out of the corner of my eye. Everywhere. In the doorway. On the couch. Outside on the porch.  Crossing the street.... Maybe he isn't all the way gone, yet? I plan to set up an offrenda/shrine like thingy in my front yard, behind the bush where he liked to watch the world go by. I need something tangible.

This grief will come in waves for while and catch me off guard with sweet memories and endless tears. It's just something I have to get thru. No shortcuts allowed. Meanwhile, please know how grateful I am for the kindness each of you showed my cat these many years. So very grateful. 

A guy dressed as a woman was locked up in my neighbor's garage...

I have some very weird next door neighbors. They are the house on the block that the police visit a couple of times a year.  A sea of people come and go all hours of day and night. There is something clearly nefarious going on there. 

Four years ago, the man's wife was found dead when paramedics arrived. This is what the police officer said when he knocked on my door. He wondered if I ever heard any domestic disturbances? 

After she died, the partner she left behind became unmoored. This is when the number of people who came and went dramatically increased. Late night parties happened more frequently. Then, the garage caught fire. The garage that sits a mere eighteen inches from my fence, 36 inches from my house, in flames.  Firefighters, with axes unfurled, raced across my front lawn that cold January and chopped down the double doors of the structure, causing a large flame to issue forth. But it was summarily extinguished with a brigade of fire extinguishers and a fire hose. 

The list is long of unsavory events and questionable house guests that have transpired since.

But what happened today was, by far, the weirdest most unexpected event, EVER.

My newest little foster dog was clearly upset by the people she could hear but not see that were on the other side of the fence. I listened from the back room to hear someone trying to pry and loosen the big garage door open. I heard a woman outside the garage yell, "I think there is a lever to your left that will open it."

Then I hear a voice inside the garage reply.

I decide to go stand next to the fence both to hear better and to maybe see something. The woman continues talking to someone inside the garage. A man with a limp joins her. He pulls a heavy trailer away from the door then uses a crowbar to get the door open. After a bit more pushing and prying, the door finally opens. I hear the guy with limp ask the person inside if they're ok. 

The man and woman step back and a man emerges. He is wearing black sweat pants that sag halfway down his ass. I recognize him as one the quasi street type people that frequent next door. But it is the rest of his outfit that stuns me. He's wearing a wife-beater type white tshirt and on top of that a bright pink fishnet sexy blouse. His hair is done up in pigtails and his face is painted to look like a woman. 

He talks gruff to the other two, directing them how to breakdown whatever had been set up inside.

A large box of items goes into the back of a pick up truck.

A flat panel is stored to the right of the garage. Something else is placed in a pile of junk.

Eventually I quit peering between the slats of the fence and went back inside. 

I have been trying to process ever since what it was that I just saw.