Ally da Pup needed to walk and it was pouring rain outside. We were both less than thrilled at the prospect, but sometimes “you do what you gotta do.” As we came back, I noticed a relative mountain of furniture and trash bags blocking the door. I assumed someone was moving and didn’t really pay attention. Then I noticed some of the uncovered furniture was starting to get wet. I was a bit appalled by that, and when we came inside I told the doorman what was going on.
Lisa: “You know the owners of that furniture aren’t going to be too happy, their stuff is starting to get wet.”
Doorman: “It’s actually all going to be hauled away.”
Lisa: “Why?”
Doorman: “You know that elderly woman in 8F? No? Maybe you didn’t know her, she didn’t come downstairs very much. Well she had to go live in a nursing home and this is all the stuff from her apartment.”
Lisa: “Doesn’t she have children or friends who might want it?”
Doorman in a whisper: “Her son is a jerk, he doesn’t give a shit about her. He said he didn’t want any of her crap, just to throw it all out. He said he didn’t care what we did with it, just get rid of it.”
I felt terribly sad. To think a lifetime of loved and cherished items ended up in the trash heap, and that her son didn’t even care enough about her to go through her things. It was quite poignant watching it rain on her now unwanted items.
I looked outside again and a pine microwave kitchen stand caught my eye. It was well made and in good shape.
Lisa: “Do you think it would be o.k. if I took this? It’s a really nice piece and I have been wanting one for ages.”
Doorman: “Sure, go ahead. It’s just going to the trash otherwise.”
I also rescued a two record album set, “Satchmo at Symphony Hall.”
I put the pine stand in my kitchen and it looks wonderful. It gives me extra storage space and brightens up the room. Although I never knew her, I said a quiet “thank you” and then said a prayer for her. And I will think of her sometimes.
I just hope she never knows what her son said and did.
Because no one deserves that.
Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA!!!
You didn’t drop the “boyfriend bomb” once during this whole post.
Did you two have another argument? By my calendar, the “shaving hairs on the sink” argument is due for a little exploration right now, and if that is the issue, you should get him a Norelco triple-header as a belated gift. (There–argument solved. If they would only call me from Washington and ask me what to do about a “credit default swap,” the whole country could sleep easier…)
Why didn’t you call HCFG after talking to the doorman and discuss your “feelings”?
Plus, if he was a really hunky doorman, HCFG has a right to know about all the hunky dudes you talked to that day.
Wait–does this have anything to do with the brunch? I sensed some repressed hostility in that post, I knew it…
@ Zen: First of all, I’m LMAO! Second, I’m going to address your comments point by point.
“You didn’t drop the “boyfriend bomb” once during this whole post.”
You noticed!
“Did you two have another argument? By my calendar, the “shaving hairs on the sink” argument is due for a little exploration right now, and if that is the issue, you should get him a Norelco triple-header as a belated gift.”
All is wonderful and nauseatingly Shmoopie, thanks for asking! And if you’re keeping a calendar based on our habits then what can I say besides ICK
“Why didn’t you call HCFG after talking to the doorman and discuss your “feelings”?”
I did, actually.
“Plus, if he was a really hunky doorman, HCFG has a right to know about all the hunky dudes you talked to that day.”
Trust me, he aint hunky.
“Wait–does this have anything to do with the brunch? I sensed some repressed hostility in that post, I knew it…”
You may have sensed my inner hostility towards washing dishes by hand but otherwise all is groovy.
Funny comment! We both laughed a lot
So sad. I’m glad you’ll get to memorialize her. I could get really depressed hearing stuff like this but I’m working on these issues.
Man, that breaks my heart. At least you rescued a few things she must have loved and will appreciate them.
My mom worked in a nursing home in the kitchen for years and she’d come home with things the residents would give her. She wasn’t supposed to take them, but she accepted them anyway, mostly out of respect. Lots of the folks had family, but they’d visit so seldom and mom saw them every day. She talks to people and loves to smile and laugh, so they loved her! Her acceptance of the gifts (usually some small posession) was like acknowledging the giver as “family.” She still has most of these things!
Bravo for you, Lisa.
That is truly sad. I’m glad you gave her memory and her things a place to live. No one deserves to be tossed aside.
Between you and Seamus I’m bawling my head off. Maybe I’ll turn on the mellow tunes and just cry in my cube all day and cleanse my system.
Sounds like a good find! And I’m sure the elderly lady in 8F would be thrilled that you are enjoying it.
That’s just totally horrible. Even if he didn’t want anything, at a minimum an organization like VOA or Goodwill could have made use of it. Jerk indeed.
LisaB, that was so nice of you! What an ingrate her son was. Even if they didn’t get along during her lifetime, he had a responsibility there, but a little part of his shirking it was your gain and an opening in your kind heart for a prayer for a stranger. She heard it too
A star will shine on you when you need it 
Thank you everyone for your lovely thoughts.
@ Bud: I completely understand how you feel.
@ Nat: Thank you very much! Your Mother sounds like a wonderful woman. You’re a lucky lady, as are all the patients where she worked.
@ Boo: I feel that as well, thank you. And sorry about all the tears!
@ Mizmell: I think so too. I will enjoy it and think of her.
@ Carolyn: Thanks Hon. And yes, her son is a yutz. Big time.
I wanted to say a prayer for her not for kudos, but because I felt gratitude and sadness at the same time. I appreciate your understanding, and thanks for your sweet comment!
Just an example, I’m afraid, of every day life. I hope she is comfortable and found some friends.
Sigh–I actaully spent more years than I like to recall as a doorman in Beverly Hills.
You could put anyone in one of those monkey suits and let’s just say that People Magazine would not be voting him “Sexiest Man Alive” that year.
That I guess was a lucrative gig for the time–oh, let me stop kidding myself–that is a shitty job.
PS–If you two are still in the Schmoopie Period and have not moved on to the Underwear on the Doorknob/High School Bowling Trophy Display Argument/Power Struggle Phase, I am going to have to throw out my whole 100-[age Master’s thesis on Chick Psychology–so please don’t play around with me like that!!
Sad. My family and I are still trying to find new homes for all of my aunt’s belongings. I could never imagine dumping it all on the curb.
I would dearly love to be sure that son gets a bit of a shock when they get to the part of that lady’s will where she says, “I leave my son all of my furniture and possessions. By the way, there are stock certificates hidden in the pine kitchen stand and my Louis Armstrong live album.”
I miss out on all that is Lisa…..
The son will live in a lake of regret, but that’s not your problem.
So…new man….same dog…same blog….what else is new????/
May I never know what it’s like to have that sort of relationship with a family member! Good for you on rescuing some of the stuff.
We found ourselves in an estate sale once in Seattle and were astonished that the kids left so much history. The sale agent had much the same to say about the children as your doorman said. It suddenly started feeling really weird being there. I was in the market for some slide carousels and there was a whole wall of them – 75 actually and I bought the lot. We were amazed that they were still populated fully with slides. I’ve often wondered what the story was there that the kids would care so little for their past.
That’s sad… and something I see way too often. Especially when the nursing facilities put the “one box and two suitcase” limit in effect. Half the time, the children don’t even live in the same time zone much less the same city so they have no idea what they’re doing.
So very sad.
you have a doorman? how positvely swanky (or is that de rigeur in NYC??)
what struck me most about this, other than the fact that her son is obviously a tool, is how disposable our society has become
sad
@ Paul: I also wish that for her.
@ Zen: You were a doorman? What an interesting life you have led!
Oh and of course we squabble about the underwear on the floor stuff. BUT, time to toss the thesis cause we are still nauseatingly shmoopie on an ongoing basis
@ Kailyn: I can’t imagine that either.
@ GW: IF ONLY… I would love to see karma kick his backside. Alas, not the case but that’s no biggie. Great comment!!!
@ Tish: Welcome back! I have missed you! Let’s catch up soon via phone, ok?
@ TF: My personal nightmare as well…
@ Seamus: Nice to see you ’round these parts again! And I hear ya on the kids not caring about their history.
@ NYCWD: A terrible shame…
@ Kathryn: More de rigeur for medium to large buildings, anyhoo. And her son is a major tool!
Hi Lisa: I have my Laptop back (even if Vista is slow). I was very angry towards the son in this story who sounds like a jerk alright. But then, I’m glad you created a new memory of your neighbor with music and the microwave stand. Did you ever bump into her at all? She might enjoy a visit from you and Ally! We all tend to forget that mortality means we will all be her age (God Willing) someday. Fortunately, we know so much more today about staying strong and healthy so we can all hopefully avoid winding up in a place like where she went off to. A sweet post, Lisa B!
)
I was deeply affected by this piece, starting when Lisa called me to tell me about what happened, and I am still moved after re-reading it. So it’s taken me a while to weigh in with my thoughts.
Lisa and I (along with Cute Fun Teenager, Lisa’s name for my college-age son) just spent two weeks at my parents’ house. Since my mom is (shall we say politely) a bit of a collector, this story hit home particularly hard.
My mom taught little kids for decades and amassed an enormous collection of books. In particular, she has tracked down literally hundreds of versions of a really popular fairy tale, spanning 200 years, dozens of languages, and every continent.
She also has an eye for folk art, especially Christmas decorations. Every horizontal surface has multiple Christmas decorations on it, all uniquely hand-made and from a different part of the world. And there are decorations for most other major holidays (though I believe the line is drawn rather rigorously before we get to Arbor Day and Groundhog Day).
My dad, too, has a lot of keepsakes over the course of his career (he’s a prolific inventor with dozens of patents across a broad range of industries), and he’s no slouch himself in appreciating decorative arts.
So there’s a lot of stuff in the house.
My parents are in the pink of health (knock wood). But at some point in the future, they’ll be gone and it will be left to Impressively Artistically Talented Sister (IATS) and I to take care of things. My parents know this isn’t an easy task, and have even joked that “whichever one of you treats us the best will get less stuff in the will.” After the obvious junk and the stuff that has sentimental meaning to each of us, my sister and I will still have a huge amount of work to do.
IATS and I are fortunate that we both have managed to build solid adult relationships with our parents, after the late teens/early 20s angst. So as I thought about Lisa’s story, I realized that going through my parents’ stuff is not really a burden though the process will be a lot of work. Instead, I see it as a way to understand them better. One of the doorways to adulthood is being able to see one’s parents as humans, separate from the mythic characterizations we have of them in the role of all-powerful providers that we learn in childhood. So looking at what they’ve accumulated and treasured in life is a great way to understand them better. And by valuing the stuff they treasured as we find good homes for it is a great way to honor their memory and acknowledge the best of their essence, which has hopefully found its way into who I am today.
Lisa’s story about how her son didn’t care a bit about her earthly possessions also reminded me how important it is for me to build a great relationship with my son for the future, as he matures. Just as I don’t want to subject my parents to the treatment that this insensitive clod heaped on his mother, so too do I want my son to see my good qualities at the very end of my life. After all, I would love it if he could respect the good from me that is now a part of him, just as I want it to be easy for him to go beyond my limitations as a man and failings as a parent.
Score!
But how sad.