Part One– Two weeks ago, i was intentionally vague about (two) something(s) that happened. Even after the signs, mediums, dreams, and especially the eight witnessed hummingbird incidents; science and logic still creep in doubt. For me, the last two Fridays were so mind-boggling and personal that I’ve been hesitant to share, needing to reality test and unboggle. But there’s inexplicable, and then there’s fucking unbelievable.
Our tiniest, cutest kitty, Nosy, …was Phyllis’ favorite. The other two, the bully and the recluse, are neither lovable nor livable. But, every morning, little Nosy would jump on the bed, stand not aside, but on sleeping Phyllis, and awaken mybeauty. Phyl always called her “my precious girl”. I could crab or snap at the other two, or any of the other six cats we had, with impunity. But, if I even looked at Nosy in anger, Phyl would cuddle Nosy, say “Don’t listen to your bad daddy”, and not talk to me for hours. If you know her, you know I’m not kidding.
Since Phyllis, Nosy does not come near me. But I could see Nosy was listless. Her nose was warm. For two or three days, she was hiding under the bed, not moving, eating, drinking, pooping. I took her to the vet. After blood tests, the vet said her blood sugar was four times normal, she had a urinary infection, and they had to send for cultures to know more. The only way she would live, is to take care of everything right away and give her insulin shots twice a day for the rest of her life. It’s usually out of the question for me to ever even catch her, so giving her shots twice a day was hardly possible. Without that, they said there wasn’t much I could do. She might last a week. The staff suggested I could take her home, but not to keep her in distress more than a few days, and bring her back when I felt it was time.
Yes, I hate those damn cats; neverending time and effort. But they’ve been here for 19 years, sleep on our bed, are my only company, and, above all, being nuts, I feel what Phyllis feels and talk to her all day. Can’t do this without her.
At home, I just totally lost it. I thought I didn’t care, but I did. I told Nosy, her mommy will be so happy to see her. Then I yelled at God. More like screaming, cussing, and namecalling. I’d only lost it like that twice before, ever, both times those weeks; once when Phyllis suffered an unreal indignity and once, unbearable distress. Every single damn night I ask for only one thing; to see Phyllis again. So my ravings were that I’m fed up and want proof that I’ll see Phyl.
And then, the two somethings happened. I swear I’m not exaggerating a word.

They say second year’s worse, ‘cause of the full-on realization she’s never coming back.  Wednesday, for the second time since it all, i was screaming; furious at God, religion, karma, destiny, anyone over 64, whatever.  Yesterday, i quit bereavement and threatened my beliefs, demanding a sign i’d see her again.  i truly, hardly fucking believe what happened myself, but tonight, midnight, i got a whopper.  Not exaggerating.   Cannot share it, but feel better about Phyl than i have in a long time.

Add animals:  About tomorrow, Adam shared that when they’d watch the Belmont, he’d discuss with his mom, why there’s been no Triple Crown since before he was born.  Adam told me Phyllis’ theory was that whichever jockey won the first two legs, was under such pressure that he’d be afraid not to start fast, and, because the Belmont is so much longer at 1 ½ miles, the horse’d tire and get passed at the end.  Even now, after 40 years with Phyllis, it surprises me how many things she was into and how much i didn’t realize she knew about those things.

Today i told Adam about Paige’s/California Chrome’s same birthday.  We’ll all be rootin’ for you, fella.

piggybacking on last week….
Though Phyllis always watched, no horse has won the Triple Crown, all 3 of America’s biggest races, in 36 years, since Affirmed, the year after Phyllis visited Seattle Slew at Hollypark. (Slew beat Affirmed both times they raced, the only races ever between Triple Crown winners.) Phyl would (and i hope, will) be excitedly rooting for California Chrome to do it Saturday. Aside from her infatuation with the races….
1)Phyllis would love that when the two novice working families paid the bargain-basement eight grand for their first horse, the “old, slow-footed, jittery mare” Love the Chase, whom no-one wanted, they overheard the grooms saying “dumb asses”. And that’s what they named their stable.
2) Phyllis would especially love that the mare, Love the Chase gave birth to California Chrome, the night of February 18, 2011. Only 3 year-old thoroughbreds are allowed in the Triple Crown races Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont. This year, California Chrome turned 3 only 2 1/2 months before the Kentucky Derby; the night of his birthday, February 18, 2014; the precise night Paige Bennett was born.

There are ofttimes when “if only Phyllis were here, she’d love this” is the thought that abides seemingly everything.  This week was one of those times.  Both kids moved and needed help.  Paige is smiling and making noises.  We met Tracy’s Mom.  Tracy’s realizing what Phyl always said; it’s different with a boy.  Jody’s starting work on the first show he’s created.  Cuckookitty (Phyl called her Black Beauty) came out from under the bed.  There’s now a Girl Scout Cookies Thin Mint (her absolute fave) ice cream.  Phyllis would’ve loved the Modern Family wedding finale, the new “Jersey Boys” movie, and Goldie in Katy Perry’s “Birthday”.

But, incongruously, the allusion that makes me cry is California Chrome.  Everyone knew Phyllis loved animals, but most people were unaware of her fascination with the Derby and Triple Crown of horseracing. Nearly every year since 1977, when we’d go to Hollywood Park to see Seattle Slew, she’d watch the Kentucky Derby, and if the same horse won the Preakness, you can be sure she’d watch the Belmont, to see if he’d win the Triple Crown.  No-one did.  When Adam was home, she’d watch with him.   Big Brown, Smarty Jones, Sunday Silence, Alysheba, and she particularly loved Funny Cide, owned by a regular bunch of high school friends.  All lost.

Now, she’d so enjoy California Chrome going for it.   Bought for not millions, but under $10,000, not by a syndicate but two novice ordinary working guys, trained not by bigtime winners, but an 80-something who’d never had a good horse nor been east, bred not in Kentucky but right here.  Stable name Dumb Ass Partners, and, created purposely by their wives, the insignia on the horse’s colors is a jackass.  She’d be reading and watching everything she could, excited and tuned in for sure.  She’d love these people and this horse.  I know she would.  If only….

Phyllis was the most unpretentious person ever.

no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive; what you see is what you get.  same with everyone.  she was the same phyllis with shleps or celebrities: ray romano or ray bradbury in the libraries, caroline kennedy or jay leno in the store, larry bird or garrison keillor in the airport. and many more.

we went to multiples of her favorites concerts:  beach boys, mccartney, manilow, neil diamond (true love is me sitting beside her through multiple neil diamond concerts without committing hara-kiri); but her fave was joan rivers.  not only did we sit in front at her concert, but phyl bought and wore joan rivers qvc jewelry.

our drama class had scheduled a weekday night performance the same night joan rivers was doing a book reading in hollywood.   i had to end our performance early to get to hollywood.  when phyl arrived, she walked right through the admirers surrounding joan rivers, who undoubtedly, as i did, expected a request for her autograph.  phyl said, “joan, the watch i bought from you isn’t working.  it’s warranteed, and i’d like a replacement please.”

Phyllis was very brand-loyal. She wore Dansko shoes, Rogers Optical big red glasses, Dooney and Bourke handbags (of course, a Winthrop girl called them pocketbooks). But, by far, she was devoted to Jeanne Bice’s Quacker Factory.
If Quacker Factory clothes were on QVC at 3 a.m., Phyl’d be watching. Jeanne Bice’s voice would awaken Helen Keller, so I’d be up too. If Jeanne Bice put out a sparkled Hitler sweater, Phyllis might look at it. Phyl would tear up at Jeanne Bice’s stories of her cats and woes, trying to sell her first bandanas, living out of an Edsel and eating outdated ramen and dirt until she was 50. Phyl would laugh hysterically at Jeanne Bice’s stories of her husband downing a bad banana, sinking in quicksand, or being eaten by piranha. Phyllis cried when Jeanne Bice became ill, and Angel Smedley (I didn’t make that up) took over.
Phyl loved it when a woman would notice her clothes, and both would pledge their like-allegiance, by declaring, “Quack, quack”. It happened far more often than you might possibly imagine.
The common denominator here, as any friend who knew her can attest, when Phyl was devoted, she was all the way. Whether to a friend or to what she wore….the shirt off her back.

Jody called it ‘Mom-ing’

was going to post the phyllis-joan rivers story, but it’s mothers day.  adam, jen, jody, tracy, and I went out, with always-our-main-event, paige.  and  jody had a perfect story….

wednesday, jody and tracy, anticipating their baby boy in september, moved.  the week before, the moving company supervisor clued jody into a money-saving opportunity.  jody and tracy could use a $-off coupon from yelp, or a current %-off coupon on the movers website.  jody said the supervisor made it clear “about 20 times” over the next week. that they could not use both coupons.

when the movers came wednesday, jody said tracy, pregnant hormones raging, told the supervisor she had a yelp coupon, and she’d found a website coupon too.  he said she had to choose only one.  she asked why.   he said he was the one who had told jody about the coupons and had explained to jody a bunch of times that the company could only accept one or the other, and tracy and jody had to choose.

here’s jody’s version of an hour later….

tracy: I have a coupon.

supervisor:  I know.

tracy: but I have another one too.

supervisor:  can’t do it.

tracy: why not?

supervisor:  we only take one.

tracy:  but I’m reading each one, and …

supervisor:  Sorry.

tracy:  then I’m going over here to ask Miguel.

miguel:  sorry, we can’t do that.

tracy (back to supervisor) : here’s a coupon

supervisor:  ok

tracy: I have another one.

supervisor:  I know.  You have to choose.

tracy:  but I have this one AND another one.  I have this one.  AND another one.

jody said “tracy was channeling mom.”  we were hysterical laughing.  jody said, “The only difference was that mom would’ve got the guy to give in.”

though tracy is one of the most brilliant kids I’ve ever met, as jody said, “ dad, she’s not to the level of mom’s tricks yet.”  we love you very much, tracy.  And, myphyllis, we couldn’t miss you any more than we do.  happy mothers day.

We always left a cash tip on the table.  Phyllis would never let us put a tip on the check, because she believed some employers or fellow servers would not share fairly.

No matter what cleaning product Phyllis was using, when Phyl cleaned in her library, house, car, she always used Windex too.

Phyllis never got mad at the cats.  Didn’t matter where they pooped, what they knocked over, when they awakened us.  If I got mad at one, she wouldn’t speak to me.   She’d hug whichever cat and say, “Don’t listen to your Bad Daddy.”

Trash pickup is Monday morning.  If there were even one Monday morning scrap of paper or tissue used before the garbage (Waste Management) truck neared the house, Phyllis had to make sure it also was picked up.  And she was Phyllis, so, of course, she’d talk with the trash guys.

Cynosure—an entity that attracts attention by its shining brilliance.

Baby, you’re a firework

Make ‘em go, ‘Aah, aah, aah’

As you shoot across the sky-y-y

You’re gonna leave ‘em all in awe, awe, awe

–Katy Perry, “Firework”

*

You’re turning heads when you walk through the door,

Everyone else in the room can see it; Everyone else but you.

–One Direction, “That’s What Makes You Beautiful”

*

And everything around her is a silver pool of light

The people who surround her feel the benefit of it

It makes you calm. She holds you captivated in her palm

KT Tunstall, “Suddenly I See”

Look at any picture of Phyllis, there’s that incredible smile.  Any picture.  She enervated a room immediately.  Any room.  Never sat back.  The shortest measurable unit of time in recorded history is the instant between Phyllis entering a room and Phyllis speaking to everyone in it.  I was there.

In that way, we were opposites.   In social situations, I am nonassertive and extremely shy.  Worked well dating.  Nowhere else.  I’m called “unassuming”, which is euphemism for colorless wallpaper.  Background.   And with background comes my unique talent for being overlooked.  When stuff is passed around, as long ago in school or present-day on a plane, too often the passer comes to my turn, is distracted by a fly, a remark, a daydream; really anything, and skips me.  Repeatedly, in the group I attend, even their Thanksgiving dinner, I’m the only one uncalled upon.  At a deli counter, dentist, coffee shop, car parts store, they’ll inevitably serve people who came in after me.  In a pull-a-number for service, if I were 57, 56 would get served, then invariably 58.

And married to the most beautiful, effervescent, genuine girl in the world, I was a desultory gnat trying to keep up within the flitting aura of a sparkling firefly.

The most common addenda to our fiends’ or family’s storytelling is “You were?”  As in….

Friend or family: So, Alan, you should’ve been with Phyllis and all of us, that July 4^th night, when we went out to the Truro Dunes, and…

me: I was there.

Friend or family: oh.

(or worse)

Friend or family: Did we ever tell you about the time Phyllis faked fainting to get in first class?

me: She’s my wife. I was with her.

Friend or family: You were?

And I never minded one bit.  The librarians of California Readers and I just finished arranging Phyllis’ book scholarship.   Candy, who organized the scholarship and their annual culminating affair, told me, every year, far more people would request to be seated at whatever table Phyllis was seated.  Of course, I would’ve guessed that.  It was the same at AHS, CHS, PHMS, and moreover, every single family or social group of which she was part.

Phyllis had no ego at all.  She never, ever attempted to be the center of attention.  But she had a remarkable facility, a gift really, for making other people feel they were the center of attention.  That gift, I’ve written as, the unique ability to make people feel they were close, along with her verve, made her a bazillion friends.

She is and always will be the most special firework ever.