Noteworthy
June 20, 2011
Because of their poor hearing, Alice and her new dining room partner, Celia, have started passing notes back and forth to learn about what’s going on in one another’s lives. They worry about how other people at The Place might react to what they’re writing because these very people are often the subjects of their exchanges. So they tend to treat the notes like CIA operatives would treat missives about undercover operations. In other words, they all but eat them once they’ve been read.
At first they tore the small pieces of paper into tiny bits, but now they’ve taken to crossing everything off with loops and lines so that if they accidentally lose a note on their way back to their apartments (where the notes are interred in their under-the-sink garbage containers), the finder won’t be able to decipher it. A typical note in this state of play looks like this:
The always surprising and often inappropriate Libby is usually the focus of at least one note per meal. For example, a recent note featured an exchange about how Libby had given everyone in her section of the dining room a massage before lunch. She went from person to person with her hands stretched straight out in front of her and wiggling like antennae to find her next patient and then the next. She rubbed and kneaded each one “like there was no tomorrow,” according to Alice.
Later, Alice wrote to Celia that Libby had buttonholed the manager of The Place to tell him she planned to write a song for his upcoming wedding.
“I think I heard that somewhere,” Celia wrote back.
Alice thought a minute and then wrote, “I think I told you yesterday.”
Over the weekend, the person they both call The Big Man made one of his rare appearances and sat down at his table, directly behind Alice.
The Big Man gives off a no-touch-no-talk vibe. Nevertheless, Libby approaches him enthusiastically the moment she arrives in the dining room for a meal.
When Alice felt a stir behind her, she wrote to Celia, “Is she here?”
“She’s here,” Celia wrote back.
“Is she squeezing him?” Alice wrote.
“She’s squeezing him.” This made them start giggling like schoolgirls. “There wasn’t anything to laugh about really,” Alice told me later, “but we were having such a good time laughing.”
The notes between Celia and Alice on Father’s Day concerned (who else?) Mr. Fickle. For some reason, an accordion player showed up to play for the fathers. Rumor of an accordion in the building brought a big turnout. Alice wanted to see what was happening so she stood at the edge of the crowd and watched her fellow residents sway back and forth to the music.
Mr. Fickle placed himself near the center of things, bouncing lightly to the beat and swinging to the left and to the right through several songs. She was impressed and naturally she wrote to Celia about it at mealtime.
It turned out Celia had been watching too, from the other side of the large room.”I saw him,” she wrote. “His daughter came to visit today. She’s pretty. I think that man must have been a humdinger when he was younger.”
This expression was so ancient even to Alice that she had to laugh and was still laughing when Mr. Fickle himself came strolling up.
Alice held two pieces of butterscotch candy. She’d intended to give one piece to Celia and eat the other piece herself, but when she saw Mr. Fickle she handed her piece over to him at once. “He liked that,” she told me.”I said Happy Father’s Day. He took my hand and turned it over and kissed the palm.”
After he left, she wrote to Celia, “Well, I won’t ever be able to wash that.”
“And what did Celia write back?”
“Nothing, but she got the joke.”
“You probably won’t agree with me,” she said, “but there’s something about Mr. Fickle that reminds me of an actor. He’s a little like Clint Eastwood. Yes,” she went on dreamily, “he’s kind of Clint Eastwoody.”
To each her own.
Here’s a priceless tribute to The Man with No Name:
To protect privacy, no real names (other than family names) are used in any of these posts.
June 20, 2011 at 9:05 pm
Hysterical! As Philip would say, ‘what a clever bunny you are’. Delicious post.
June 20, 2011 at 9:30 pm
I never miss one of your posts. You bring Alice so vividly into my life. I’m honored to be a part of it, even though we don’t know each other. Thank you for your warmth, your exquisite writing, and the communion. Wende Wylie
June 28, 2011 at 8:55 am
Thank you, Wende, for your very kind words.
June 20, 2011 at 9:59 pm
Having spent most of ninth-grade algebra class passing notes back and forth with my best friend Mary, I can most certainly relate to the scribbling out of lines. Having been caught once and made to read it aloud, we learned discretion really is best.
The best part of notes, when you’ve been exchanging them with someone for a time, is that you develop your own language, your own shared jokes, your own shorthand, until the really funny bits become all but unintelligible to someone who might read it later.
I’m happy to be well past ninth-grade algebra, but I do miss the note passing. (Surprisingly, Mary and I got in trouble more often for bursting out in hysterical laughter during class, rather than for the actual act of passing notes.)
But, enough about me…
I’m still laughing at the “I think I told you yesterday” bit… I have so been there!
June 28, 2011 at 8:59 am
Lucky are the very few kids who don’t get caught, but notes (and the friendship) are so worth it. I bet Mary remembers the fun of it, too.
June 20, 2011 at 10:10 pm
This is such a satisfying read–accordion music and a romantic moment: does it get any better than that? Somehow Alice must hear this ukulele orchestra piece–it could become her own internal sound track for future encounters with Mr. Fickle.
June 28, 2011 at 9:02 am
How I wish she could hear it, Leigh, although maybe some version of that studly anthem plays at the back of her mind when she sees him.
June 21, 2011 at 3:27 am
Morning Andrea, this is a wonderful post – I have such a vivid picture of The Place, Alice, Celia and Mr Fickle … I almost feel I have been there. You never disappoint and the orchestra was just the icing on the cake today! Thank you, I really enjoyed that five minute break
June 28, 2011 at 9:04 am
Maybe that little British ukelele group will come to a village near yours. It would be fun to see them in person, wouldn’t it? If you ever do, let me know.
June 21, 2011 at 6:45 am
this reminds me of sitting around the kitchen table with my relatives drinking coffee & listening to stories – but now I’m not a kid – I’m closer to their age and they are closer to Alice’s age now – accordians & butterscotch candy – life is good!
June 28, 2011 at 9:06 am
Sounds like we got the talkative Scandinavians, Kerry. I understand the other kind exists, though I haven’t met them. Can you imagine growing up with relatives who don’t tell stories?
June 21, 2011 at 8:39 am
Ahhh, the note passing! I always crave the next Alice post – now I’m after more of the ukulele orchestra!
June 28, 2011 at 9:07 am
If I’d known you better way back when, we could have passed a few interesting notes back and forth, Bev.
June 21, 2011 at 1:05 pm
I love that Alice reminds us that we can incorporate play and mischief in our lives no matter what. And I also love the adjective-ization of Clint Eastwood! How Alice-ey!
June 28, 2011 at 9:09 am
Play and mischief–keywords for Alice.
June 21, 2011 at 3:17 pm
Another funny, heartwarming, charming post.
I’m so happy Alice has found a new “partner in crime” in Celia.
The ukuleles – priceless!
June 28, 2011 at 9:09 am
Thanks, Kim.
June 26, 2011 at 5:55 pm
Love this post! It’s so easy to picture the scenes you draw with your words. Alice is endlessly entertaining. I think she and Celia should have their own TV show.
BTW, I was happy to see that you made it past the Comment Guards this past week!
June 28, 2011 at 9:12 am
I agree. Alice’s favorite show of all time was I Love Lucy, and over the years she’s reminded me of Lucy now and again.
As for the Comment Guards, I stumbled on a workaround. I only hope I remember it for next time.
June 27, 2011 at 3:30 pm
At least they’re not burning the notes! (A college roommate of mine did this and ended up setting off the fire alarm in the middle of the night…the entire dorm, all 3 floors, had to be evacuated!)
The first thing that struck me about that note was how straight the lines of writing were. Wow.
And Mr. Fickle as Clint E…I think I’m having to adjust my mental image of him!
June 28, 2011 at 9:14 am
Now that’s paranoia, burning the notes and sending everybody into chaos. There must have been a LOT of notes.
Perhaps you should not try to adjust your mental image of Mr. F. I have a hunch it’s fine as it is.
June 28, 2011 at 8:48 pm
The note writing is so perfect! I’m grateful Alice and Celia found one another…but what about befriending Libby with her roaming massage hands??
June 28, 2011 at 9:08 pm
I’m relieved she has a friend but Libby, despite her talents, is not so desirable as a pal. She was Alice’s former dining partner and it didn’t work out (to say the least). See “Whatever Libby Wants — Updated (http://andreacarlisle.com/2011/04/10/whatever-libby-wants-updated/) if you want to know the gruesome details.
July 21, 2011 at 5:54 pm
[...] “Celia and I have talked a lot about how our things were sold against our will,” she said, referring to her dining partner and friend. “I could tell her I thought this ring had been sold too, but then I found it today.” [...]
August 13, 2011 at 12:31 pm
[...] dining partner and good friend, Celia, complimented Alice on her all-black-and-white outfit and then they dug into what was advertised on [...]
August 28, 2011 at 11:28 am
[...] loves her new ring. She couldn’t wait to show Celia, who usually arrives in the dining room wearing sparkly baubles of her [...]
September 8, 2011 at 2:00 pm
[...] Celia (see “Noteworthy”) has also noticed Mr. Fickle’s vest. The moment he walks into the dining room with his vest on, the topic of the notes she and Alice have been passing back and forth switches to this article of clothing. One note leads to another and, as so often happens with both writing and conversations, they always end up a great distance from where they started. [...]
September 26, 2011 at 5:44 pm
[...] in school in those days,” she said with enthusiasm. “And the other night after dinner, Celia and I were just about to leave the table when for some reason—I don’t remember what it was [...]
October 18, 2011 at 2:55 pm
[...] phoned my cousin and began talking to her as if she were my niece; she called me and thought I was Celia, [...]
November 21, 2011 at 2:51 pm
[...] Monday, at lunch time, Alice (age 96) and Celia (age 95) sat at their table scanning the coming week’s menu. “What is ‘Fall [...]
November 28, 2011 at 10:09 pm
[...] the traditional meal, which was served at lunch time, we wrote notes to one another on a tablet, just as she and Celia do. I felt like one of the [...]
December 29, 2011 at 10:26 am
[...] Celia arrived a few minutes later with her sixty-something son and they came to greet us before sitting down at a table nearby. Lyle, a WW II vet, wheeled slowly through on his way to the Rosary Room, where he’s been banished to eat meals due to his constant stream of profanity and insults, not to mention the likelihood that at some point during every meal he’s likely to shout out, “Those damn Japs!” which causes his fellow residents to jump and then shake their heads in disapproval. Glenda buzzed up in her electric wheelchair with a basket of candy, her hand shaking as she offered Hershey mini-bars to Alice, who took the gift and then held both of Glenda’s hands in her own for a few seconds. More people waved at Alice as they came in, using walkers and wheelchairs and canes and, in many cases, only their own steam to get to their tables. Baby Jesus lay sleeping through it all in a manger in the Fireside Room, on the other side of a low wall. Tiny white lights winked all around us. Paper Santa place mats replaced the usual laminated ones. Santa triplets [...]
January 29, 2012 at 11:26 am
[...] the report on big changes in the well-being of both Celia and Mr. Fickle in the Winter Stars post, several readers have written me to ask for an [...]
March 24, 2012 at 9:07 pm
[...] crazy about her new shoes, lunch was disappointing except for laughing over various things with Celia, Mr. Fickle has been taking lengthy naps lately in the Rosary Room (yes, still wearing his coat all [...]
April 1, 2012 at 2:51 pm
[...] After the cocoa she was anxious to get home and rest. The past several days have not been easy for her. She’s still in pain, and it’s a long, slow road back and forth to the dining room, so sometimes she asks for meals to be brought to her apartment. She’s a bit depressed, and she misses Celia. [...]