Life of Wry

June moved today.  June is our 93-year-old, two-doors-down neighbor. While I think she’ll be far better off at Covell Gardens, I’m a little sorry to see her go.

She and her husband (who died long ago) owned the house on A Street, but she lived in their home in Willowbank until 2000 when she decided to downsize and move back to the central Davis neighborhood. For the last 14 years, she lived with Tracy the pitbull, who had ridiculously bad arthritis and was grossly overweight, and Charlie the stray cat. Each of them is/was ancient; it was anyone’s guess who’d go first. Tracy gave up the ghost about six weeks ago, which was truly sad. She was a sweet dog but, wow, in a lot of discomfort.. could barely get up and down, in and out, couldn’t hear. Charlie’s still roaming around, but I can’t imagine for much longer. June will probably live to be a hundred!

For the last few years, I’ve been helping her out here and there, mostly with shopping and errands. It’s not unusual to find her at our doorstep, rapping on the front door with her cane (a distinctly unique sound), seeking assistance with a jar lid or to decipher some legaleezy notice that’s come in the mail. She might call us over to reset a thermostat or look for a dropped hearing aid or figure out why her cable is out. I liked doing those things and was glad she asked. At Covell Gardens, she’ll have people for that.

It was really only a few years ago that she started to lose a lot of her independence and had to give up driving and playing golf (she was a great player with a really low handicap and played mostly at the Flyer’s Club). But man, in spite of severely compromised mobility, and diminished hearing and eyesight, she managed pretty well around the house and yard. I’m impressed that she didn’t have more falls and accidents… a few, but not many. Tough bird, that June.

People make very compelling arguments for aging in place and I think a lot of her longevity and endurance comes from having to manage on her own so much of the time. Still, in her case, I think she’ll be better off in a place that’s got round the clock meals, cleaning and laundry service, maintenance people at your beck and call, staff drivers and so on.  She seems very ready and willing to make the transition to an easier life.

I wish I could remember all of June’s stories. She was born and raised in Davis.  Her mom may also have been born here.  Her father was a dairy farmer (Silva family, I believe) and she did a lot of work on their farm, but she lived, interestingly, at the corner of 3rd and C. Her grandmother, or mother, I’m not sure which, planted that huge heritage elm tree near the corner on what is now AT&T property. Over the years, she told me a lot about Davis’ pioneer families and life in the olden days. I should have written down some of those stories!!

Amusingly, 3rd and C is also the corner on which David Breaux stands (stood), my good friend the compassion advocate. I could never really bring myself to tell June about any of the happenings at that corner–David’s work, the Compassion Corner Earthbench–because she’d just literally shit a brick. While she’s an interesting woman with hundreds of great stories to tell, her life’s experience is limited to Davis. She traveled out of town very rarely, preferring to stay where she was comfortable. It’s fair to say she had a low tolerance for diversity. She did not suffer fools gladly, nor anyone really.  Those who know her, know her to be cranky and opinionated. Most of the time, I decided to overlook her off color remarks because she needed my help more than I needed to set her straight.

Anyway.

This is June, on the left. She’s actually talking to my mom, up for Thanksgiving a year ago.

I do have to say, though it’s not evident here, she’s got a great (if rare) smile.  I’ve also lately concluded that her bark is a lot more vicious than her bite. It’s possible that she is softening a little as her dependence on others increases.

I’m also thinking our visits will be far more relaxing now that she’s living at Covell Gardens. I imagine we’ll go to lunch a lot more often. And I’ll see what I can do about writing down some of her stories.