Day 262

Feral says he misses the ladder to the sleeping loft. It was a cat’s playground. Soon Megan and Butters will be next door. Hope to get the room painted before they come. I made plans with my yard worker to plant sod in the front of the sunporch. Now I need David to show up and clear it. I may have to get out there myself again and do it carefully. My chiropractor suggested that I do not move rocks! 

Prompt with CJ friends

It was a time when my long-time partner in the volunteer police patrol left because of health problems. She and I knew each other well. Our conversations in the patrol car were about daily stuff, comfortable as old friends can be. At the next meeting of our group, I looked around the table and realized that everyone was paired up. After the informational part of the meeting, Gene Lyssenko spoke up. His partner had moved and he was looking for a new partner. He wanted another male. I felt a nudge. My intuition is rarely satisfied with a nudge so then I felt a poke. Andd then a serious poke. In a tiny almost inaudible voice, I said, “I”ll be your partner.” Long silence. So long that I had time to sweat. Finally, he said, “We can try that.” We made a day and time. He liked the evening tour 4 PM until 8PM, where we shook business doors, drove behind stores, and patrolled downtown and the harbor.

The first couple of times conversation felt awkward. We talked about our history with the PD and our duty.  I caught on quickly that the harbor tour was his favorite and he began to tell stories about fishing. His trips on the ‘big pond” were epic adventures.  For years he would bring me cleaned and packaged ling cod, snapper, and the prized green ling, salmon, and even halibut. There was far more than I could use and he asked me to distribute the bounty.

Then there was his garden. Huge plantings of vegetables, green house full of tomatoes, about an acre of sunflowers too.  Again, I was the recipient of his generosity. He make blackberry cordial and was sure that I had plenty in case I needed a toddy for medicinal purposes.

In a short time, I could talk about anything. I trusted him as I had never trusted anyone with my hopes and fears. When I needed a male point of view about an incident, I trusted him to tell me the truth. As I learned Gene’s history, five-year-old with his mother and grandfather walking from Ukraine to Poland, years in a German work camp, finally coming to the US at age 13, I appreciated where his generosity came from. He was a small frail man whose bone problems came from lack of nourishment as a child. What I deeply loved about Gene was his wisdom and compassion. I was touched by his stories and his active giving. He had a warm spot for homeless families and would give them food and money.  He loved our country passionately. He was a dedicated Democrat and we had lively discussions. His side often peppered with salty words about Republicans.

Gene is gone. The last weeks of his life, he spoke only Russian. His last word, Babushka, reaching for his mother, he died. Now he is out on the big pond fishing and fishing. Knowing him was a treasure. And I would have missed it if I had not spoken up.