An interesting day. I called Holy Spirit (h.s.) to ask if I could pick up more copies of the HSHS quarterly magazine with the piece on Pat so I could send to my children. Spoke to Sue, the director of Educational Advancement (that means fund-raising, folks). She was very nice and I went in to pick them up. What a warm, pleasant, and interesting person she is. She walked me out and as we chatted, she told me she knew where Pat was buried. Startled, I asked how. She said her brother is buried two plots down. I asked his name and now remembered...
...A few months ago, I noticed a fresh grave nearby and went over to look at it (I'm nothing if not nosey). Saw a temporary marker and read the name on it--an unusual one, starting with "Z." A few days later, I was intrigued to notice that on that grave, a large "Z" was traced out in pine cones. Well, that's her brother's grave. He was only 53, an undercover cop, and he died in March of lymphoma "in nine days," Sue said. I took that to mean nine days after diagnoses. Sue said she goes to the cemetery often--and I sure do, so we'll probably meet there. I liked her so much, so that's nice to know.
Went to the supermarket and planted the white begonias. Late in the day, around what used to be dinnertime, I often get lonely, so I drive somewhere. Got in the car about 5:30 and went over to Atlantic County, with no real destination in mind. Got to Galloway, where there's a several-mile long stretch of mostly woods before you reach Smithville. I saw a woman walking slowly on the side of the road. She looked about fifty, small and thin, very pale, but nicely dressed, and was carrying two cloth bags with things in them. I could tell she wasn't just out for a stroll, as she was walking very slowly and looked distressed. I passed her, but decided to turn back. I parked on the shoulder and asked if she needed help. "Ah don't know where mah apartment is," she began. It turned out she had moved here three days before from Alabama, had gone out to the drugstore and now didn't know how to get back. She said the name of the complex was "Fox Trace," but I'm not familiar with the area and didn't know where that was. I told her I'd get her there and she got in the car.
It turned out that after she left the store, she had headed in the wrong direction, so was miles away from where she lived and steadily going in the wrong direction. She told me her name was "Jane" and directed me to turn left at CVS into Smithville. I did and we drove around. She kept saying some things look familiar--"Wah, yes, ah've seen that before"--but then decided her place was on the other side of the highway. We went back and she told me to go straight, but that wasn't getting us anywhere, either. I finally decided to see if niece Donna, who lives nearby, was home; maybe she could help. When I pulled into her driveway,though, it occurred to me to ask Jane if we could use my cell phone to call somebody at home. I was afraid she didn't know the number, but she did and I called. A male voice--"Frank," Jane said, and confided that he's her "companion," answered and when I told him the circumstances, said "Thet woman will be the death a' me!" Apparently, Jane has gotten into scrapes before. However, he directed me to drive past CVS to the complex, which is "Fox Chase," not "Trace." I did, dropped her at her door, and drove home. Jane thanked me over and over, but the fact is, I enjoyed the excursion and the little mystery involved. Does that go to show I have a lively and inquisitive persona or that I'm a poor soul with little in my life to engage me?
AND--how incredibly verbose am I that I filled this entry so hugely? I must learn to pare down what I write! But not yet. Not now. Not.