My Wonderful Sister and Her Own Style of Chaos

My sister Kathy is the best sister I could ever want.  She is smart, loving, kind, enthusiastic.  She will of course give you the shirt off her back and the food off her plate.  She laughs freely. She gives great back and foot massages – even if I’m barefoot. She is a fount of encouragement and self-sacrifice. She welcomes people into her home to stay for extended periods when they need a place.  She is glad to watch your kids and have a pool party.  She is the substitute teacher that the parents like more than the regular teacher.  Children LOVE her.  She gives and gives and gives.

In high school, for our senior paper we had to submit an initial bibliography with one hundred sources, in MLA format. She volunteered to type the whole thing for me because I was tired, and she was the better typist. It was perfect.

When we were still sorting through all of our parent’s stuff (episodically for three years, and still a bit left), I had almost an emotional breakdown.  I went and laid down on the bed and shut the door and sobbed harder than I ever had in my entire life – my whole body was vibrating.  And it wasn’t grief so much as every difficult thing that had ever been part of the dynamics between my mom, my sister and I.  No blame there, but just overwhelming emotions. Fifty years of bottled-up emotions came out. Kathy came and found me and simply laid down on the bed next to me and cried with me. She said, “I don’t know what is going on, but I’m so so sorry.”  It was such an act of caring and emotional intimacy.

Kathy always has your back.

Do you want someone to plan a birthday party?  Kathy’s your gal.  Not only will she provide a yummy and gorgeous professionally decorated cake that she herself has made, but there will be streamers, balloons and other decorations.  Probably a pinata. Lots of other food. All your favorite people will be there, because they all come when she invites. Same with baby and wedding showers . . . she’ll pull out all the fine china, have fresh flowers, make individual cakes or beautiful cupcakes, and over-the-top decorations.  A party fit for a princess.

When her kids were younger, they lived in a house with a pool and would have pool days.  Once a week, all the friends would come over.  The rules were that the parent had to stay and watch their own kids, they bring their own food and drinks (they did have a backyard drinking fountain), and you stay outside except for using the bathroom.  It would go on all day and everyone would have a great time.

Two of the mom’s were talking one day, and one said, “I can’t believe anyone would have people over when their house looks like this.” (It was a mess.)  But the other one said, “Who cares?  Everyone is having a great time!” She once asked her son if the house was too messy; he replied, “Well, it’s never kept me from bringing my friends home!”

If you are going to the park or beach, do NOT underestimate Kathy.  She will make sure there are food, snacks and drinks tailored to everyone’s specific tastes.  She will bring every toy/ball/floatie and sports paraphernalia known to man.  There will be picnic blankets, towels, a shade covering, large bottles of cold water, and a variety of chairs.  Just make sure you are ready to spend 6 hours there, because this is no 90-minute jaunt.

When your time comes to die, Kathy is the person you want to have sitting with you.  She is gentle, strokes you head and softly smooths your hair and holds your hand – not too loose and not too tight.  She will sing to you, talk to you, pray with you; she’ll walk through golden memories with you, and sit silently with you in peace. She is absolutely the best.

She is a fabulous caregiver.  Our parents died two years apart, and our mom went first.  Kathy drove the five hours down, as she did once a month, and ended up spending two months there, caring tenderly for our mom.  She did all the research on the different diagnoses, interfaced with the doctors and was involved with the care facility.  She kept me abreast of everything.  She was incredibly loving the whole time, even though she was physically and emotionally exhausted. We were both there when mom passed, and we cried together. Sadly, both of her (outdoor, semi-wild) dogs died during that time, and we think it’s simply because they missed her.

Similarly with my dad, she sat in the recliner next to him and watched his old, favorite movies for the week he was on hospice, as he went from fully cognizant to passing. I couldn’t be there for those same time periods with either mom or dad, because I lived on the other side of the country and my kids were younger.  But I did make it out at the end.

From all of this, you might assume Kathy is prefect, but I assure you she is not.  (Although she’s darn close to being perfectly loving).  Kathy has a few flaws.

• She buys way too many of her clothes at Goodwill, and isn’t particularly discriminating. The flag dress which she wore on days other than the 4^th is a case in point.

·       She has no intuitive ability with Excel.

·       She can be a little over-enthusiastic.  She will dress up for anything, even when she’s the only one doing it.

·       She’s been known to be a little indecisive.

·       She processes everything in triplicate, out loud.  Even something like which toothbrush to buy.  She has to look at Every.Single.Option and carefully consider.

·       She doesn’t really think about hanging things on the walls; she simply puts pictures up on the hooks that were there when she moved in.

·       House cleaning is not her strength, but fun is.

·       You don’t want her to plan your vacation. 

When her son played college football in Oregon, they would travel up for the home games, including her husband and two daughters.  Did they get a hotel room?  No!  They put a foam mattress in the back of the Suburban and all slept there in the long term parking at the airport.  I can’t even.  None of us are particularly petite.  If I tried to do that, I would end up with no sleep (I’d probably get out and try to sleep on the asphalt) and suffer enough aches and pains to put me in the ER.  I don’t understand this. Frugal but way too painful.  But they were fine, apparently. They did this repeatedly.

But this is our launching point, and you will now hear the saga of the San Francisco Marathon.

Kathy’s eldest daughter took up running in college, and her grand achievement was to run the SF Marathon.  All registered and good to go.  But Kathy waited too long to get a hotel room.

If you know anything about San Francisco, you know that it is surround on three sides by water.  The southern edge of the city goes right into extremely expensive neighborhoods and then into all the wealth of Silicon Valley. Thus a finite area for hotel rooms.  When they are gone, they are gone.

Kathy had looked online and been calling around.  Nothing was available except The Fairmont at $400 a night, a bit out of budget, especially back then.  Finally, she found someplace affordable.  She was on the phone telling me about it.

Kathy:  “It’s cheap! It’s only $59!”

Me:      “Uh, where is it?”

“I don’t remember the name, but they said it was in some District.”

“The Wharf? The Presidio? Golden Gate Park?”

“No, I think it had District in the name.”

“The Marina District? The Shopping District? Haight-Ashbury?”

“No, no, that’s not it.”

“Chinatown?  The Financial District?”

“Ummm, no.”

“Oh no, Kathy. Oh no.  Please tell me it’s not the Red Light District.”

“Yes, that’s it!”

“No, Kathy. Just no.  You cannot take your daughters to the Red Light District. There are prostitutes and drug dealers and bed bugs. No.”

“It’ll be fine.  Rob (her husband) will be with us.”

“Did they charge by the hour?”

“Well, they gave us the option, but I told them the whole night.”

“You can’t be serious.  Do NOT do this.  Go to The Fairmont.  I don’t care how much it costs. You can’t stay in the Red Light District.”

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“But your daughter needs a good night’s sleep before running.”

“It’s fine. She’ll be fine.  It’s what were doing.  There’s no way I’m spending $400 for a hotel. It’s done.”

Holy crap.  I couldn’t believe it. But there was nothing more I could say. Obviously, I would have been staying at The Fairmont no matter the cost, even if horrendously unaffordable. 

So they go to the Red Light District, her daughter runs the marathon, she finishes inside the window to get the finisher’s bag with all the goodies. A really good haul. And they drive home that night.

Talking with Kathy a few days later, I asked,

“How was it?  How did she do?”

“Great! It was tough but she finished. Rob joined her for the last few miles to encourage her to the finish line.”

“And how was the hotel?”

“Well, we had made a reservation for a room with an in-room bathroom.  But when we got there, they said they had just given away the last one.  The bathroom was down the hall. The girls weren't happy.”

“Were there drug dealers and prostitutes outside?”

“Well, yes.”

“What did your daughters say about it?”

“Never again. They were not happy. Never. Again.”

Well, okay then.

Fast forward ten years and the girls suggest going on a hiking trip to Bryce and Zion National Parks.  Sure!  But one stipulation from the girls:  we get to choose the hotels and make the reservations.  Agreed.  They went and had a fabulous time.