Friday, June 6, 2008
While I was in Rochester, the eldest sister kept asking me if there was anything in the house that I wanted.
There wasn't a lot left except large pieces of furniture, and trash, and most of the furniture had pieces of tape on it with the names of the younger sisters and their daughters. The younger sisters and their husbands had gone through the house earlier, filled several dumpsters, and took home a few truckloads of the more portable good stuff. (Legal note - all of it is part of the estate, I'm entitled to a portion of that estate or the value thereof, and I'm thoroughly pissed that none of it had been appraised.)
There were only a few things that I wanted. One is a beautiful genuine Irish blackthorn walking stick I had given to the FIL a few years ago. The other was a few things that Jay had mentioned before he died: projects he had worked on, experimental photographs he had taken, his scouting badges, a carved wooden French Revolution chess set, stuff like that. He would have picked them up during an earlier visit to Rochester, but the FIL was a pack rat, and had no idea where any of Jay's stuff might be. I thought that perhaps the sisters would set Jay's things aside for me. But I didn't realize they were purging the house so soon, and I didn't get my word in before they filled the dumpsters.
The caregiver said she had seen the blackthorn before the FIL died. Now, of course, it's nowhere to be found, and everyone claims they didn't see it. Either someone has it and won't admit it, or several hundred dollars of blackthorn went into the dumpster. The caregiver brought me a box she spotted that had my name and "Jay's stuff" written on it. It contained a battered felt cowboy hat that would have been too small for him (I already have his good hats), a cheap chess set, and a six-inch stack of paper. That's all.
So Wednesday night in the hotel room I spent about three hours reading through the papers. It looks like they just found a file labeled "Jay" and threw the contents into a box without looking at it. It was all materials having to do with Jay's application for math summer enrichment programs when he was in high school. That's all.
He had to write essays for the applications. I read all of the typed essays, and thought, "This isn't Jay. He didn't write these." The style was his father's, not his, including the overuse of exclamation points! Like on sentences like this! That habit of his father used to drive Jay crazy!
And then I found one of the typed essays written in longhand. His father's longhand. Jay had always said that nothing he ever did was good enough for his father, that his father had always taken over on everything. This was almost like a haunting. I was reminded of when my daughter was writing essays for college applications. She would not allow me to so much as suggest anything. In fact, I never saw any of the essays she wrote. I have to contrast that with Jay's father's controlling everything. It was one of the reasons Jay had so much difficulty making decisions.
The stack happened to include a few letters Jay had written home from Paris (in longhand), when he had college summer internships there. Those I kept. All the rest of the contents of the box I threw out.
On Thursday I happened to notice a file cabinet in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I opened a drawer, and it was still full of paper. One file was labeled "Jay". I pulled the contents, and found all the letters I had written to his father during Jay's illness, detailing the diagnosis, the treatments, what was happening with Jay, right up to the end, when I had to warn his father about things he should avoid mentioning in phone calls, since Jay had no short term memory and it would just upset him.
I took those letters downstairs and put them in my tote bag, and didn't mention them to anyone.
.
Showing posts with label Rochester. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rochester. Show all posts
Friday, June 06, 2008
1837 Not Sure Why
Friday, June 6, 2008
I've spent the past few days in Rochester, helping Jay's eldest sister to get the late FIL's house ready to show.
I couldn't believe what they're asking for the house. It's about 1.75 times the size of my house, five bedrooms (the two upstairs are huge, and share a bathroom with double sinks, etc.), 2.5 bathrooms, 40-some windows (I know, 'cause I personally washed about a third of them), two fireplaces (one with an old marble Victorian surround) a huge basement, about an acre or more of land, huge very old trees, in a beautiful old neighborhood where every house is different and all use professional landscapers.
Even in the current depressed market, with what my house would fetch, I could buy his house and another equal to it, and still have $50,000 left over to remodel or decorate. It's crazy. Rochester must be terribly depressed. We did some shopping for decorating touches that took us all over the city, and it seemed like there were a lot of closed and boarded up businesses, and a lot of parking lots of open businesses looked uncared for. Grass growing in the cracks and so on. It seemed like the things we were looking at in the stores (patio furniture, 9x12 "oriental" rugs, towels, silk plants at Michaels, etc.) were a LOT cheaper than down here.
Conclusion, if you don't mind snow, and would like being near excellent medical centers and elder-care facilities, Rochester, NY, might be a good place to retire.
------------------------------
The "crew" consisted of one of Dad's caregivers, her two late-teen/early 20s sons, her father, me, and Jay's eldest sister (who happens to be exactly the same age as I am). The boys mostly did outside work, washing the outsides of the windows, power washing the siding and the patio. The father installed several window air conditioners. The caregiver and I cleaned the inside of windows on Wednesday, and washed 40 years of soot and grime off every flat surface. Thursday we scoured bathrooms. I spent three hours on the half bath alone. Every inch had to be scrubbed. The cabinets had to be cleaned out, and --- I'm not kidding --- I had to whack things stuck to the shelves with a hammer to loosen them.
Eldest sister, in the meantime, wandered around rearranging furniture, talking on the phone, making lists of touches to arrange and things to buy, hanging pictures, and otherwise decorating. She didn't even get her hands dirty. She issued orders to the rest of us whenever she noticed something that needed cleaning.
By 7 pm last evening, I'd had it. I was lying on the floor with my head and shoulders stuck in the under-sink cabinet in the master bath, and suddenly I wondered what the heck I was doing, and why. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was being treated like a hired hand. The caregiver and her family were being paid for their time. I was a volunteer. And I wasn't sure why.
At that point eldest sister said she was going shopping for more stuff, and invited me along, and I made a snap decision. I was tired, and I was going back to the hotel. And I did.
(I had been invited to stay at the house, but I knew if I did, I'd be worked into the ground, 7 am to 11 pm, so instead I spent $360 on a hotel. I'm wondering now if I can bill the estate for the hotel and the $60 in gas.)
So, I went to an Appleby's near the hotel, got a takeout dinner, and fell asleep lying across the bed, fully dressed, before I could finish my ribs. I slept 13 hours, straight through.
I went back this morning and cleaned off and dusted some shelves, and then headed home at noon. I sneezed and coughed all the way home, from the house dust. I've been digging black oily dust out of my nose for the past two days.
The realtor is bringing some people to see the house this evening. I hope they buy it!
.
I've spent the past few days in Rochester, helping Jay's eldest sister to get the late FIL's house ready to show.
I couldn't believe what they're asking for the house. It's about 1.75 times the size of my house, five bedrooms (the two upstairs are huge, and share a bathroom with double sinks, etc.), 2.5 bathrooms, 40-some windows (I know, 'cause I personally washed about a third of them), two fireplaces (one with an old marble Victorian surround) a huge basement, about an acre or more of land, huge very old trees, in a beautiful old neighborhood where every house is different and all use professional landscapers.
Even in the current depressed market, with what my house would fetch, I could buy his house and another equal to it, and still have $50,000 left over to remodel or decorate. It's crazy. Rochester must be terribly depressed. We did some shopping for decorating touches that took us all over the city, and it seemed like there were a lot of closed and boarded up businesses, and a lot of parking lots of open businesses looked uncared for. Grass growing in the cracks and so on. It seemed like the things we were looking at in the stores (patio furniture, 9x12 "oriental" rugs, towels, silk plants at Michaels, etc.) were a LOT cheaper than down here.
Conclusion, if you don't mind snow, and would like being near excellent medical centers and elder-care facilities, Rochester, NY, might be a good place to retire.
------------------------------
The "crew" consisted of one of Dad's caregivers, her two late-teen/early 20s sons, her father, me, and Jay's eldest sister (who happens to be exactly the same age as I am). The boys mostly did outside work, washing the outsides of the windows, power washing the siding and the patio. The father installed several window air conditioners. The caregiver and I cleaned the inside of windows on Wednesday, and washed 40 years of soot and grime off every flat surface. Thursday we scoured bathrooms. I spent three hours on the half bath alone. Every inch had to be scrubbed. The cabinets had to be cleaned out, and --- I'm not kidding --- I had to whack things stuck to the shelves with a hammer to loosen them.
Eldest sister, in the meantime, wandered around rearranging furniture, talking on the phone, making lists of touches to arrange and things to buy, hanging pictures, and otherwise decorating. She didn't even get her hands dirty. She issued orders to the rest of us whenever she noticed something that needed cleaning.
By 7 pm last evening, I'd had it. I was lying on the floor with my head and shoulders stuck in the under-sink cabinet in the master bath, and suddenly I wondered what the heck I was doing, and why. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was being treated like a hired hand. The caregiver and her family were being paid for their time. I was a volunteer. And I wasn't sure why.
At that point eldest sister said she was going shopping for more stuff, and invited me along, and I made a snap decision. I was tired, and I was going back to the hotel. And I did.
(I had been invited to stay at the house, but I knew if I did, I'd be worked into the ground, 7 am to 11 pm, so instead I spent $360 on a hotel. I'm wondering now if I can bill the estate for the hotel and the $60 in gas.)
So, I went to an Appleby's near the hotel, got a takeout dinner, and fell asleep lying across the bed, fully dressed, before I could finish my ribs. I slept 13 hours, straight through.
I went back this morning and cleaned off and dusted some shelves, and then headed home at noon. I sneezed and coughed all the way home, from the house dust. I've been digging black oily dust out of my nose for the past two days.
The realtor is bringing some people to see the house this evening. I hope they buy it!
.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
1245 Sigh of Relief
Sunday, May 13, 2007
I survived the weekend.
I'm still at the hotel. I had reserved two nights because I wasn't sure how tired I'd be, what with the cold and all. Glad I did. I got back to the hotel about 6 pm, and promptly passed out for an hour and a half. I'd have been off the road if I'd attempted to drive home.
Dad's birthday reception/luncheon at the church was nice. Lots of people were there, many from out of town. I was surprised that he had difficulty walking. He takes tiny steps and needed to lean on my arm for balance.
So many of the people who came up to wish him a happy birthday said things like, "Congratulations on making ninety! My aunt was 92 when she died." Or father was 94, or whatever. I dunno, but if I were hearing that said to me, I'd think "Gee, are you telling me I haven't got much longer to go?" Like they were stressing that he's into the single digits left. Yeah, probably true, but he didn't need to be reminded over and over. And over.
After the reception, MS and YS and their families left for home, so I went back to Dad's house with Dad, his aide, ES, and ESH. ES tapped into my auction experience to go through the attic and basement to see how much of the junk was worth saving. There were like seven large steamer trunks and some old suitcases that would go well at auction, some wonderful old multi-tier card-file cabinets, an old child's rocking chair, a wicker perambulator, and a few other things. But most of the stuff either wasn't old enough, in good enough condition, or high enough quality to bother saving. ES says they have to clear out at least the attic this summer, because it must be insulated. Heating costs are going through the roof.
Daughter had arrived at the hotel late last night, after an eight hour drive alone (Hercules had to stay home to care for their cat who'd made a Friday night emergency vet visit with an intestinal blockage - she's ok now), and she actually took advantage of the hotel pool before bed. She was a comfort to me during the reception today. She's very social, and I'm proud of her ability to fit in so easily. She got into conversation with one of her step-cousins (MS's daughter), and got some insight into what the problem is with YS. Apparently it's not just me. There's tension between YS and ES as well.
Daughter left for home after the reception. Seems like a long drive for such a short visit, but she's young.
Oh, well. I'm tired, but I'm alive. I'll be able to sleep tonight. That's more than I thought I'd have after yesterday.
.
I survived the weekend.
I'm still at the hotel. I had reserved two nights because I wasn't sure how tired I'd be, what with the cold and all. Glad I did. I got back to the hotel about 6 pm, and promptly passed out for an hour and a half. I'd have been off the road if I'd attempted to drive home.
Dad's birthday reception/luncheon at the church was nice. Lots of people were there, many from out of town. I was surprised that he had difficulty walking. He takes tiny steps and needed to lean on my arm for balance.
So many of the people who came up to wish him a happy birthday said things like, "Congratulations on making ninety! My aunt was 92 when she died." Or father was 94, or whatever. I dunno, but if I were hearing that said to me, I'd think "Gee, are you telling me I haven't got much longer to go?" Like they were stressing that he's into the single digits left. Yeah, probably true, but he didn't need to be reminded over and over. And over.
After the reception, MS and YS and their families left for home, so I went back to Dad's house with Dad, his aide, ES, and ESH. ES tapped into my auction experience to go through the attic and basement to see how much of the junk was worth saving. There were like seven large steamer trunks and some old suitcases that would go well at auction, some wonderful old multi-tier card-file cabinets, an old child's rocking chair, a wicker perambulator, and a few other things. But most of the stuff either wasn't old enough, in good enough condition, or high enough quality to bother saving. ES says they have to clear out at least the attic this summer, because it must be insulated. Heating costs are going through the roof.
Daughter had arrived at the hotel late last night, after an eight hour drive alone (Hercules had to stay home to care for their cat who'd made a Friday night emergency vet visit with an intestinal blockage - she's ok now), and she actually took advantage of the hotel pool before bed. She was a comfort to me during the reception today. She's very social, and I'm proud of her ability to fit in so easily. She got into conversation with one of her step-cousins (MS's daughter), and got some insight into what the problem is with YS. Apparently it's not just me. There's tension between YS and ES as well.
Daughter left for home after the reception. Seems like a long drive for such a short visit, but she's young.
Oh, well. I'm tired, but I'm alive. I'll be able to sleep tonight. That's more than I thought I'd have after yesterday.
.
Friday, May 11, 2007
1242 Taking My Rotten Chest to Rochester
Friday, May 11, 2007
I am so sick. Miserable. We're in the "coughing so hard I wet my pants" stage now. Last night Miss Thunderfoot was so worried about me she kept patting my hand every time I managed to fall asleep. (Thank you for your concern sweet kitty, but sleep is a GOOD thing....) I can't believe I have to drive to Rochester, a six-hour trip, tomorrow.
Calling Jay's eldest sister and telling her I have to cancel because I'm sick is simply NOT an option. Two of Jay's three sisters don't like me, I don't know why, and the third, the eldest, does at least think I was very good for Jay, but she has the kind of management personality that will not accept "no" as an answer for anything she wants, and she can get bitchy. She can be maddening.
So telling them I'm sick won't fly. I'll have to go and show them that I shouldn't be there but cared enough to make the effort.
A nice neat package of virus. Perfect gift for the father-in-law's 90th birthday. I'll stick a bow on my nose.
I'll go to the party at the church, and a backyard picnic, but I probably shouldn't go into his house.
I haven't been out of my house all week, so I haven't got a card or gift, either. I'll have to do that this evening, which means going across the river to the mall. Most of today has been spent waiting for the yearly visit from the furnace cleaning guy, and I'm already tired. I have NO ideas for a gift. What do you get a 90-year-old who has everything, can't see well, can't hear well, has no interests, no short-term memory, and flakes out by 4 pm every day anyway? He won't notice if I get him nothing, but the sisters will.
I want to "call in sick", and not just because of the cold.
.
I am so sick. Miserable. We're in the "coughing so hard I wet my pants" stage now. Last night Miss Thunderfoot was so worried about me she kept patting my hand every time I managed to fall asleep. (Thank you for your concern sweet kitty, but sleep is a GOOD thing....) I can't believe I have to drive to Rochester, a six-hour trip, tomorrow.
Calling Jay's eldest sister and telling her I have to cancel because I'm sick is simply NOT an option. Two of Jay's three sisters don't like me, I don't know why, and the third, the eldest, does at least think I was very good for Jay, but she has the kind of management personality that will not accept "no" as an answer for anything she wants, and she can get bitchy. She can be maddening.
So telling them I'm sick won't fly. I'll have to go and show them that I shouldn't be there but cared enough to make the effort.
A nice neat package of virus. Perfect gift for the father-in-law's 90th birthday. I'll stick a bow on my nose.
I'll go to the party at the church, and a backyard picnic, but I probably shouldn't go into his house.
I haven't been out of my house all week, so I haven't got a card or gift, either. I'll have to do that this evening, which means going across the river to the mall. Most of today has been spent waiting for the yearly visit from the furnace cleaning guy, and I'm already tired. I have NO ideas for a gift. What do you get a 90-year-old who has everything, can't see well, can't hear well, has no interests, no short-term memory, and flakes out by 4 pm every day anyway? He won't notice if I get him nothing, but the sisters will.
I want to "call in sick", and not just because of the cold.
.
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