Our friend Jane died over the weekend. When we bought our house in the Spring of 2016, we found a lovely HOME SWEET HOME doormat at our doorstep when we arrived. Jane had purchased it for us. It's there still. The photo above was when she and her husband attended our wedding on our patio. She was 80 when she died and had been battling cancer for the last few years until her doctor and she determined that there was nothing more that could be done that would prolong her life.
My sister Ann and Jane were in the same class at Western Airlines in the mid 1970's. That was when they met and have been friends ever since. When Jane and Tony, her husband, bought a home in this gated community in Indio, Ann would soon buy a home here, as well. When Mark and I would decide to live here, as well, we already knew Jane and Tony.
Jane's sister officiated at our wedding in 2019, before the Pandemic. The three daughters and one son were children of an English mother and a U.S. G.I. during WWII. When the war was over, Jane and her siblings sailed on the Queen Mary to America with their mother, to reunite with their American father.
On the morning that Jane died, we had already scheduled another annual visit to our Step Sister Pam in San Pedro, to take Pam to lunch. Ann needed the distraction, so we went anyway. I always drive.
Pam is about a month older than I. She has gained considerable weight in the last few decades, and now it's easier for her to get around in a wheelchair rather than use the walker she had been using on our previous visits.
Lorri, our half sister, does use a walker and has for the past year and more. So Mark and I have to load up her walker when we pick her up elsewhere in Indio. And then we had to load the heavy wheelchair into the back of the Tiguan after we all used the bathroom in Pam's apartment after the nearly 3-hour drive.
Pam lives in the same apartment building where Mom used to live from about 1977 until earlier the year she died in 2002. Pam lives in apartment 610 whereas Mom lived in 1010. Same side of the building, essentially the same view, though a bit lower. Mom could see the Southern tip of Catalina Island on a clear day, gazing West from her balcony. She could also see the cruise ships sailing down the harbor, out to see or in to port, and most especially watch the Christmas boat parade, with all of the vessels of various sizes decorated for the holiday.
You cannot see the channel anymore from Pam's balcony. I doubt if you could see it from Mom's old balcony were she still alive and living four flights up. Mid and high rise buildings now block almost all of the view. A restaurant on the corner of Harbor Blvd and 5th Street called The Grinder is long gone, replaced by a six-story mid rise with shops on the first floor and condos above. Ports O' Call Village where Mom would bike to for breakfast in the first several years when she moved to San Pedro after I left for the Air Force in 1973, and was still ambulator is also gone, completely torn down. (In her last years, Mom also used either a cane or a walker after a bike rider hit and knocked her down, breaking her hip on a sidewalk in Long Beach.)
Mom had a friend who worked at a Chinese-American-owned shop at Ports O' Call called Wings. Mom was always sad that her friend seemed always to have to work there, even on holidays such as Christmas and only made minimum wage. Her friend has likely passed on.
Whenever I visited Southern California while Mom was alive, I usually stayed with her. We would often go to breakfast at a little restaurant on 5th Street, half a block from Mesa St. that you could see from Mom's balcony. We would occasionally go to The Grinder for lunch or dinner. Once in awhile, we might drive to The Acapulco, a Mexican restaurant in Ports O' Call Village. But, that, and a seafood restaurant, also disappeared when the Village was torn down.
Pam's small, one-bedroom unit has the same floorplan as Mom's former unit. It's always nostalgic to see Pam's place and be reminded of Mom's apartment. I spent several 4th of July holidays (Mom's birthday) and Christmas and New Year's staying with her, sleeping on the convertible sofa.
One year I arrived on Christmas Eve and had to have a pathetic little breakfast in the morning at Jack In the Box because we had not stopped to get anything at a market, not realizing that nothing would be open on Christmas morning.
This time the drive was exhausting as we headed up and down the Harbor Freeway to an Olive Garden in Carson, CA, where Pam wanted to go for lunch. Ann would later say to me that if Pam is still with us next year, she might just take Lorri, buy some food, and eat at Pam's apartment instead of trying to go out to eat. I did not give that much thought, for that will be next year, and we have many months to live in between.
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