Looking Back Then Forward--A New Year Dawns

12/24/2016

Our niece Wendy brought us a beautiful ornament on Christmas Eve naming her dad, Audrey, and Jerry all of whom have passed. Of course I cried. So did her uncle.

It got me to thinking about the special gifts each person I have loved and lost bought to me over the years. I thought I would share them with you because once something is written to the Internet it leaves a footprint and these special people deserve to have a place in our non-physical universe.

Jerry Senior
My dad, Jerome Wertenberger: I don't remember him well as he died when I was 5.

His legacy is the American bus system. It was his job to break the trolley car unions so buses could replace electric and/or rail systems in big cities. Of course, this was before pollution and back when GM and Firestone were ruling entities along with Standard Oil and the rest who wanted oil and gas to run the world--not electricity.

My dad worked for the Fitzgeralds who ran National City Lines and in the 20 years my mother and father were married they moved 17 times. Whenever there was an issue my dad was sent off to take care of the unions. He and others like him were caricatured in the movie Roger Rabbit.

I do know that he was my world. Back in the early 60s you didn't talk about death to a kid so in my eyes he just disappeared. For years I believed he was really in a convalescent hospital like Jack Kennedy who was kept from his daughter Caroline. At 5, I had already learned how to read and I latched onto the tabloids at an early age. This made for some pretty gnarly confusion over the next few years.

My Mother
Lou was a math wizard. She could add up long (seriously long) columns of numbers in her head. Her ability used to mesmerize me as I sat and watched her. No need for a calculator with her around. I don't think anyone on this planet loved her children and grandchildren more than she did. They were her sun and moon, her reason for being as she grew older. I can still smell her perfume, odd that it happened right now.

Sadly, she never recovered emotionally from the death of my father.

Jerry
Brother, father, best friend, hero. He taught me unconditional love. Through him I discovered love was possible even when the person himself was impossible. Fortunately, that person didn't appear often--a left over remnant of the loss of our father, our mother's grief and Vietnam. No matter what he was doing or where he was I never doubted his love. I was always his little sister and he was always my hero.

His downhill slide began with his treatment for Hepatitis C which consisted of the poison Interferon and Ribvairin. I often wonder if he would still be alive had he not taken this treatment. Yet, in the end, he was virus free. The once a day pill worked after they pulled him off Interferon and it worked well. His heart and brain however, never recovered.

Audrey and Don Carroll my in laws. They taught me so much. Audrey taught me loyalty, Don humor. Although I admit to being scared of him in the beginning. I didn't know any men aside from my brother so I wasn't sure how to relate. Audrey, on the other hand, took me under her wing and helped Karen, my sister-in-law (and dearest friend) and I grow into warm-hearted mature adults with a strong sense of fair play.

I don't know how to explain how wonderful Don and Audrey were. I miss both of them to this day and although it's been a year since Audrey died I still find life difficult without her. She was my greatest champion and fan. She was my mother, my sister, and my friend.

Terry Carroll

I laughingly keep trying to load Terry's picture but my computer won't let me. Either that or.... Terry was always pretty vain and the picture I have is not one of his best.

In short, Terry was the bravest man I have ever known. He suffered more than any human being should suffer for months and before that for years. Terry taught me that family is more important that anything. That a human being will suffer just one more day to be with his loved ones even to the point of losing his feet and legs. Yes, you heard me correctly. His liver transplant due to Hep C did not go well and the fungus Aspergillus decided to grow in his veins cutting off oygen.

Terry taught me how to fight and how to never ever give up. His humor shined when other's would have dimmed. To lose him so young to a disease many Vietnam Vet suffers from is a stain on our country's soul. In his honor and my brother's and Pete's below I will continue on with my Hepatitis C journey to completion with the military. How I wish they all could have known where the disease came from and partaken of its cure.

While many Vietnam Vets are in treatment many more are not. Most do not even know about it. If you know a vet from the 60s and 70s tell them to get tested now. If they were innoculated with a jet gun make them run not walk to the nearest testing center. Hepatitis C is curable. No one need ever die from it again.

Pete, pictured below, the guy with the pony-tail is also a Vietnam Vet. He is also no longer with us. He died from liver cancer directly related to Hepatitis C. Pete made people laugh where ever he went and while he was not a family member per se, he was one with us by proxy. He too was too young to die and he left behind grieving friends and family. Such a shame. Such a dirty secret swept under the rug by our military. Of all the people we have known who have died from Hep C all were Vietnam Vets. Of all the people we know currently undergoing treatment all are Vietnam Vets.

B00-ba-loo

Bobby is the one with the crooked glasses, the one Pete is squeezing. He was Dennis and Terry's adopted much older brother. Bobby was born a blue baby. He had gone without oxygen for too long and his brain and physical body were severely damaged. My mother-in-law and father-in-law adopted him when he was in his mid-twenties. (I told you they were good people.) He had difficulity seeing and was deaf in one ear and almost deaf in the other. Don and Audrey didn't believe Bobby couldn't learn so they took him under their wing and taught him how to get along in a world that at the time, had no room for the handicapped.

Bobby became chief maintenance man at Don and Audrey's first store in Hayward, CA. He wiped off the goods and swept the floor. It made him proud and it gave him happiness. At first, people had a hard time understanding him, but as time went on his speech improved under the ministrations of my mother-in-law. Once you grew familiar with his speech patterns he made perfect sense--for a 10 year-old. Bobby never grew up. He was always 10, even when his joints failed him and he went blind and even more deaf than he already was. When he came to live with us, we altered the house for him, put up grab bars and took up the throw rugs. What he gave back was laughter (most of the time) and lessons in courage.

One day, Karen and I were sitting in the front yard shooting the breeze. Bobby came outside and stood on our front stoop. All of a sudden Boo-ba-loo started doing the Chicken Dance, a somewhat difficult dance for a physically handicapped person. Within seconds Karen and I were cracking up and Dennis came out of the garage to see what was going on. We never knew when Bob's humor was going to appear and to this day I wonder what my neighbors thought as Bobby chick-chick-a-boomed about the front stoop.

Another time, I tried to help Bobby to the car. Walking was difficult but he persevered even when the pain on his face registered agony. He refused pain pills as they made him groggy. This day, he struggled down the walkway to the car. I asked him if I could help. He said no. I asked him if he would please use his cane and he said no. This came with a disgusted 10 year-old's stare that how could I even suggest such a thing. He was, after all, the kid with the signed Roy Rogers' picture hanging on his wall.

When he finally got into the front seat and I climbed into the back while Dennis drove, I said, "How can you walk when you are in so much pain? "

He turned his head and looked at me. After a quick smile he said, "You gotta walk through the pain, Lucy."

Sometimes 10-year-olds are smarter than the adults.

Saying good-by to those you love is never easy. It leaves a hole too big to fill and only time eases the pain. I owe so much to these wonderful people who no longer walk this Earth. How grateful I am they taught me to love unconditionally and to see the beauty in a damanged soul. You really can't judge someone unless you've walked in their shoes. Sure, we all get hurt feelings or get pushed out of shape, but really, in the big scheme of things it means nothing.

I would give anything to see each of them just one more time. Don't let misplaced hostility keep you from those you love. Make each day a day to say I love you. Tomorrow may not be just around the corner.