How my mom tells me about a new resident where she works (independent /assisted living facility).
*Names have been changed to avoid profound embarrassment.
Mom: So, we got a new resident today. She’s from Denver. Cherry Creek. Remember when we first moved to Colorado (I was 12) and drove downtown for the cherry blossom festival near Metro (my college alma mater) and ate at that cute little cafe that was decorated with British decor kinda like that pub we ate at in Colorado Springs when we drove down there with Auntie Carol and Michelle after we drove through Garden of the Gods?
Me: Um, no. What does that have to do with your new resident?
Mom: Oh, yeah, so she’s 93 but doesn’t look it at all, she’s from Denver and recently lost her husband who used to have a financial advising office in Brookridge where I used to work at the shopping center office. In fact, his office was four doors down from the picture frame shop you worked at while you were in high school where that one day you called into that radio station and won $100 which you used to pay for dinner at that French restaurant on prom night with Ben, and there was that Ground Round where we’d go eat sometimes because your brother liked throwing the peanut shells on the floor.
Mom: Well, they moved here to retire, but he had cancer and sadly passed away. So, her kids helped her sell the house and find this place because it’s close to the son and his two children who can come and visit often. His kids are so cute. His wife’s name is April. Oh, remember the Asian babysitter you had when you were 5 and we lived on Havenhurst whose hair was so long and you loved to brush it?
Me: Yes. And?
Mom: Anyway he has a girl who’s about 9 and a boy who’s 11. The daughter is named Christy like your best friend in high school with the long funny last name who lived near the rec center where you taught gymnastics. And the son is named Bobby. He plays baseball and is a huge Yankees fan like your brother Bobby was when he was little. Remember that Thurman Munson jersey he wore all the time and that he tried to put on when he was 14 and it was so tight that he couldn’t get out of it? Oh, and what about when Munson died in that horrible plane accident. Remember how Bobby cried for days after that, almost as badly as he cried after we saw The Champ with a very young Ricky Schroeder bawling at the end? We went to Granny and Poppa’s after the movie for dinner and Bobby wouldn’t stop crying.
Me: And your new resident?
Mom: Oh yeah. Well her name is Rose like Kate Winslet’s character in Titanic. I thought it was pretty good but I remember that Zoe (my daughter) loved that movie so much when it came out that you took her to see it, what, 17 times in the theater and afterward she made you and Grant (ex-husband) call her Rose. Actually, it was Rosen, wasn’t it?
Me: Is there a point?
Mom: Well, Rose wanted an apartment on the 4th floor because she said four is her lucky number, but there weren’t any available, so I suggested the 8th floor because you know my favorite number has always been eight, but Rose didn’t want to be that high in case there was an earthquake since we’ve been recently feeling those they’ve been having in California. Oh, remember when we went to see Superman in the theater in LA, and during that scene where Gene Hackman’s Lex Luthor slammed his cane onto the huge map he had on the floor, as soon as it hit California, we had that earthquake, and everyone was running out of the theater like crazy and I laughed because I thought is was part of the movie until I realized it wasn’t. Anyway, there was an end unit on the 3rd floor which Rose liked because of the view of the Strip instead of the desert like that view you had when you got that free suite at the Rampart and could only see the desert from that huge bathtub in the back bathroom that had the bidet that you wrote about.
Me: Yes, I remember. Could you finish your story please.
Mom: Our new resident moved in today. Rose. She’s very nice.
“Truth is ever to be found in simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things.” ~ Isaac Newton