My husband’s cousin, Sandra, works
at K-Mart as a cashier. In the last twenty years of his life Arthur talked to
her once or twice a week—they were as close as brother and sister during a good
part of their lives. Sandra has told me many times since Arthur died how much
he helped her bear the burden of her job.
Sandra had a thirty-year career
as a telephone operator. She retired early when the job ceased to exist in the
late 1990s. The telephone company offered her the choice of a one-time payout
of the money she’d accrued in the pension fund or a monthly check. She thought
she could have a comfortable retirement by investing the money so she took the
payout. This looked like a good plan in the early 2000s, but after the crash of
2008, when she lost a huge part of her savings, she took the job at K-Mart to
supplement her income. She thought it would be temporary, and now, seven years
later when she’s nearing 70, she’s tired. And stuck. She can’t do without the
pitiful sum she makes working part-time at K-Mart.
Last night after spending
Thanksgiving with some friends I came home to a phone message from Sandra
wishing me Happy Thanksgiving. This was my first Thanksgiving since Arthur died
and she wanted to make sure I was okay.
Sandra mentioned she would be
starting work the next morning at 6am and I realized I had not given a second’s
thought to Sandra’s reality this week. Not only would she be working Black
Friday as usual, she had worked Thanksgiving morning also.
Arthur was always there for her
on these hard days. He’d call her up and get her laughing, telling jokes and
distracting her with memories of their youth; He’d help her see the absurdity
of the human race as reflected in the people that paraded through her check-out
lane. They’d laugh at some crazy customer or two or three she’d encountered
that day, helping her drain some of the stress and frustration and depression
away.
I thought all this as I listened
to Sandra’s message, and made myself a note to call her Friday afternoon.
