Two Phone Calls

The phone rings. It's Ray, across the street. He tells me that A, who lives three doors down, passed away last night. We know she's had cancer, but she has looked so good every time we've seen her walking on the street for the last few months. Shit. Now I have to say 'was.'

A was a really, really nice person. We went down to their house to watch the election returns in 2008, and the four of us danced around like happy puppies when Barack won. And now S will be in that great big, wonderful craftsman house, all by himself. Jeez.

Sixty seconds after that phone call, the phone rings again. This time it's The Great PD, with news from down in Stiletto.  Another old neighbor is near death. I don't have to say 'was' yet but he's in hospice. K is a harmonica player, a really good one. He lived down the street from us too, and has a son PD's age. The mom died four years ago and now nobody knows what's going to happen in that house. You can say there are some issues.

The thing is, you can always think of a reason not to get involved. Somebody else, closer to the family, will do it. And they will. But this is a sticky situation.

The Great PD wonders what he should do. So do I. We knew this boy for most of his life and he's got nobody now. 

But for right now, it's time to go down the street and talk to S and find out how we can help him. When you get to our age, you've been here before. You know what to do.