Walked the footbridge to meet Bernice at the Hill Street Cafe at noon. Yoicks, what an experience! We had no sooner sat down then she launched into a fifteen-minute recitation about her childhood--geez, I felt like Freud's cohort. I'm sure not going to repeat it all here, but the salient points were:
1. Mum born in the U.K., she thought all Americans were rich, meets father there during WWII, as he was in military; they decide to marry, make plans for her to cross over and he'll meet her;
2. Except he doesn't: She's all alone and turns to the Red Cross. They find him and they reconcile, marry, and move to the poorest place in Arkansas; Bernice is born and four more rapidly follow; they have their fifth on Mum's thirtieth birthday; all seven live in a two-room house without indoor plumbing; Mum is a mean, evil person and remains so until she dies;
3. Bernice is teased and tormented in elementary school because she's so small and thin; they move to Santa Paula, California, where she becomes very popular in high school because she lives next door to the handsome boys, plus her brother is a hottie;
4. Meets her future husband, they marry, they have two daughters, he's abusive and also a pedofile and they divorce; she has a gentleman friend, they decide live together, but he develops erectile dysfunction, and they part;
5. And all that was before we even ordered!
During lunch, I heard that her two daughters and their families (in Ventura and Florida) won't visit her or have her come to their places, even on birthdays, and she has no idea why.
After we ate, Bernice took me to see her house, which she hastened to tell me is completely paid for and she also owns outright, a rental property. The place is huge and why a single woman would ever want to live in a place like that I can't imagine--five bedrooms, four and a half baths, two living rooms, several other rooms. Also, it filled with all kinds of dated furniture--and not the interesting kind--plus pictures and objects that all seem not to have been dusted since 1988, when she moved there. Bernice said she has a thing for fireflies and this struck my eye:
Well, there was much, much more to her saga, but I don't want to recount it here--in fact, I don't even want to think about it.
She dropped me off about 2:30 and I hard-boiled some eggs, prepared the nice butternut squash I had bought the other day, and assembled the ingredients for the cookies I'll make for the pot luck tonight. I was waiting for Ellen and got concerned when she wasn't here by 6:00. Called and discovered she had told me next Tuesday, the 24th, not yesterday. However, there's no rush, in fact, it's probably better, as I'll have more time to assemble the crapola I want to donate. I do have an audiologist appointment that day--think I'll try to change it.
Wonder of wonders, Carolyn Bowman called in response to my "happy birthday" call on Monday (she was 62). We had a long talk--she's kooky as ever, but I have a fondness for her. Unfortunately, she now suffers from eczema, but she said it's abating.
Dudley House dinner tonight.
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