Reinke Faces Life

In going thru her jewelry box, I found “my” id bracelet. Boy did that bring back memories.

Remember I was in college when we met, the “meat grinder” in Viet Nam was in full operation. All college students were automatically granted a student deferment. So I was given that deferment when I entered Manhattan College.

As a result of arm twisting by both our mothers, she “decided” that she wanted to wait to marry until I graduated. I wasn’t overjoyed at that, but it was 3 against 1. And these were all “pig headed” Irish women. You might convince one; three, never!

I graduated in 1968.

But, since MC offered, I took advanced electronics courses which extended my deferment until June, 1969. Minutes after my fifth year (automatic) deferment extension expired, I was drafted. Based on the “meat grinder”, I wanted to wait to marry until we understood what my military obligation would be. It wouldn’t be fair to her to make her a young widow. She had girl friends, who had that happen to them, and they were destroyed. If something happened to me, it would be bad. (Especially bad from my point of view.) If we were married, it would be far harder. Maybe even with children? I had options in the military — get drafted into the Army (And off to the Republic of.), Naval Aviator (Yeah, with my eyesight, they’d give me a plane? Over Viet Nam!), and USAF with no promises at all (But a lot less percentage involvement in the “meat grinder”?).

We talked about it. I volunteered for the USAF and took my chances. They gave me a report date of 2/1/70. Hey, six months of partying! And, I could continue to work at AT&T to pay for it.

Long story short, she wasn’t happy about waiting. I egotistically thought that she thought I was being a reluctant groom having second thoughts. Even after I reassured her that she had me “hooked”, she was still on edge. She really understood why I wanted to wait but never shared her fears. Maybe I was stupid, but I really hadn’t thought about it at all. I thought it would be a good six months; what did I know. She was zoned on the news reports from “Republic of”. I didn’t know it then, but I did later that she was imagining the worst. And the long six months took a terrible toll on her.

We’d already been saving for the wedding and starting a new life. So, during this six month extension, “we decided” to accelerate that savings. She “would help me” manage “our” money. (And I had no prenup.) Each payday, all my overtime and a good chunk of my pay went into the “wedding” passbook savings account at Pramapo Bank. Every Friday, she’d take her paycheck and also make a deposit. (I was never privy to that bit of “high finance”. And, would tease her mercilessly about it. But, she never let me see the bank book. For fear I’d want to spend some?) The six months just flew. Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, we just lived. The uncertainty was never discussed.

Finally it was January 31st, I was bunking over on her Mom’s couch. We spent that night just holding on. Neither of us slept much. As the dawn broke, I got ready to leave. I was taking the PATH to the Subway to the Brooklyn Induction Center on Jay Street. Had to report at 10AM. We had adopted “Leaving on a Jet Plane” as our song and had agreed that my first leave after finding that I wasn’t going to “Republic of” we’d wed. As I was ready to go, she gave me a present.

I opened it and it was the afore mentioned ID bracelet.

She made me promise to wear it so that she would know for sure. She didn’t have say sure of what, but that was obvious as the MIA counts went up daily. I knew that I couldn’t wear it on duty, but I humored her. She spent very little money on it. It was obviously very cheap. She told me she did that deliberately so that it wouldn’t be stolen by a body robber. That was grim. We were grim. She left me at the landing. She wasn’t crying. My allergies were acting up when I hit the street for my cab up to Journal Square.

Fast forward.

After basic training, I got the word that I was going to be assigned to Maryland for Language School for a year, then some schools, and then assigned to USAFSS in Laurel MD. I called her collect; she was ecstatic. (Would not be so happy when she got the phone bill!)

I hit language school 01 October and they gave us the schedule. It stated we were on mandatory leave at Christmas time. Another collect call and she went crazy. Not about the future phone bill, but the time interval. I told her we could wait until I got another leave in June. She wasn’t hearing that and pulled together a great wedding in record time.

The rest was history. Since it’s purpose was past, I returned the ID Bracelet to her when I outprocessed from USAF in December 1973. (Maryland was never invaded while I was on duty.) She was happy to take it back. I hadn’t seen that bracelet until the other day when I was cleaning out the jewelry box.

I’ll carry that from now on.

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As most reading this will know, we affectionately refer to Evlynn as ‘our girl’ … most everyone does when referring to her.  It’s like a badge of honor, being allowed to say “she was our girl” … proud to have had the opportunity to know her.

My relationship with Ev goes way back to 1971, when I was working at NSA while in the Navy, and I had met this great guy John who was in the Air Force at the time, and also working at NSA.  We hit it off quite well, and he even helped me learn how to program in FORTRAN … which proved to be quite valuable, as I am working on 40 years now in Information Technology.  If I didn’t thank you back then buddy, I certainly do now!

But back to Ev … I found out that my new buddy John was pretty smart, because he had married Evlynn! John had invited Marge (my wife) and I to a ‘hootenanny’ (don’t ask, it was a 70’s phenomenon … and that’s a whole other story in itself!) with he and his new bride. We had both gotten married around the same time it turns out, and John wanted us to meet ‘his Evlynn’. Well we had a blast at that hootenanny, and then at several other times with John and Ev…at their apartment, and at ours … young military newlyweds with a lot in common (we liked board games and card games, except John won all the time!).  We also liked an adult beverage on occasion, and sometimes on several occasions!  [You know how those young people are.]

I could write tons about “our girl” Evy, about how caring she always was, how super generous she was, and just someone that you wanted to be around … she made you feel good.

But for this memory moment, for this time of thinking about Ev … I have decided to comment on something that John mentioned on his blog … about Ev and her basketball prowess, and how she humiliated several of his ‘macho’ buddies.

One weekend we all decided to head out to Williamsburg, VA, and we stayed at a beautiful golf resort called Kingsmill on the James (nothing but the best for us!). I think we went to Busch Gardens and then maybe to dinner one night … when we got back to the ‘condo’ it was still light out so we decided to take a walk around the resort property. Well we stumbled upon a huge building and were curious about what was inside … we peeked in and it was a full gymnasium!  Complete with basketballs laying around, and open nets waiting to be ‘swished’.  We started fooling around, shooting some shots and passing the balls around … and Ev says, “Hey Frenchy (my nickname), want to shoot a game of HORSE?”

My first reaction was to laugh … and I think I did, something like “Are you kidding?  Play HORSE against me?”  And Ev said, “Sure, why not?”

I wasn’t any superstar by the longest shot, but I played some intramural basketball in high school, and I had a pretty good shot.  I think I asked if she wanted ‘a spot’, you know…like I have to play until I get HORSE, but she only had to get to HOR to win…something like that.  I think I insulted her … because she said “NO, just shoot”, and passed me the ball.  Well the rest is a short story, I think she beat me “H” to “HORSE” … in other words she spanked me bad.  I recall asking for a rematch, since that had to be a fluke.  But then I think she shut me out the second game … HORSE to zero!

So now my new buddy’s wife, who was also fast becoming our best buddy too … had a whole new level of respect from me! Not only was she a great person, by gosh, she could play some hoops too!

I recall her husband John watching all this with a smug look on his face … he knew how it was going to turn out. Of course it wasn’t until later that I found out how good she was on her high school team, and then also played some semi-pro ball as well!

On some of our later visits to their house in NJ, we used to watch Ev coach “her girls” … at St. A’s where her teams were always sharp in their play, whether they were highly skilled or not. You could see how good a coach she was too … I think one year they only lost one game. So … you can see, “our girl” was something else … multi-talented and a good sport too, I don’t think she rubbed it in too much after my embarrassing defeat.
And it wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if I hadn’t tried to give her a spot at the beginning … that probably just made her mad.  :-)   We love you and miss you girl … just one of the many stories I could tell about Ev, as Marge and I were blessed all these years by knowing her.

Thanks for the memories Ev.

Dear John-

Thank you so much for sharing this great picture. I’ve forwarded it on to my fashionable siblings. I guess I wasn’t old enough to make the cut for the picture.

I have so many wonderful memories of Ev. I used to love when she would take me for rides in her Covair – boy, did I think I was cool then! Taking me for Italian ice, or a burger and a shake on a Saturday afternoon – I so looked forward to spending time with her. Although I was probably her pesky little cousin, I think Ev actually enjoyed my company and took me places voluntarily – unlike my sister who was forced to take me everywhere she went. Joyce must have loved Ev spending time with me too – it meant she didn’t have to! Joyce told me Ev taught her how to drive and also took her to take her driving test. She was like a big sister to both of us. And like everyone else on 8th Street, Joyce, Jeff and I all learned how to shoot hoops from Cousin Ev. Driving home from her funeral, I remembered something about Ev that I had forgotten all about – When I was a Girl Scout at St. Mary’s, one of the other GS troops was going to Palisades Park. MY troop was not going and I was heartbroken. Two weeks later, guess who took me to Palisades Park?? I think she even brought Patty Ann along for the trip – and maybe you were there too? I have to admit, I was none too pleased when you came on the scene thinking she wouldn’t have time for me anymore, but of course, that was not the case! Not only did she continue to make time for me but fulfilled the dream of every young girl and had me as a “Junior Bridesmaid” in your wedding! I tell you, if I thought I was cool riding in her Covair, THAT just topped it all!!

I hope you are coping okay. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be. She was such a special person and she just touched so many people with her kindness and love. You are in my prayers and I hope you are able to find some comfort in all the great memories you have of her.

If you come across any more of these priceless photos, please share them with me.

Thanks John – Will keep in touch.

Love,
XXX

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Ahh, the Corvair! No one probably knows that back in the Eighties when we were flush, I offered to buy her a “fun car” like her old Corvair. She wisely said no, “You can NEVER go back to what you were.” Wise woman.

She loved to be around people. So you probably gave her as much joy as you received.

Your going to Palisades Park story doesn’t surprise me. She wanted every child to be happy. No, I wasn’t on the scene yet. Maybe her old boyfriend. She was a “catch” and I know she could have her pick of the litter. And, I know of at least two suitors were unhappy when he took herself “off the market”.

I’d didn’t see any rejection by any of her family. Once I past the “Peg” test, and she was assured of my honorable intentions, she even gave everyone the word that “I was Ev’s choice”. She was the “energizer bunny” and made time for everyone. It wasn’t until she got sick did she have to recognize her limitations. I’m glad you enjoyed the wedding. She put together her “dream wedding”.

Coping? If feels funny not to have medical people to supervise while cajoling her into going along with the “fun”. She did make an impression on one fat young white guy injineer. Two dates and I was “hooked”. Took me a while to sell her on the idea. Even Peg was worried that we were so different. Guess it worked out.

Thanks for the prayers and kind words. I’ll send you invites to the other pictures. I’m scanning and putting up as I can. It’s a sad chore.

You’re most welcome. I’m happy to “share” her with you again.

Donna Nobis Pacem

# – # – # – # – # 2011-Mar-23 @ 20:11

Over the past weeks, I know that people had a question. One of my old far away friends asked. So I’ll put it out here that others may take a lesson from Frau Reinke’s experience.

We were married a few years and, despite making all the plumbing parts operate, no children were produced.

Her Mom broached the subject and suggested a plumbing check.

We were in Maryland, and I wasn’t comfortable with USAF “medicine”. So we went to an expensive private doctor that we paid with our own money.

So, I went first. (Not too embarrassing.) And, I got a passing grade.

She went through a bunch of tests with no trouble found. (Yeah, and you wonder why I have such a high opinion of “medicine”.)

Her Mom passed. We had the tumult of her coming home to help her Brother and Dad. I got an early out in December and went back to work at AT&T. Her mission at home finished, we got an apartment near AT&T. (Hidden Lakes.)

She wasn’t the housewife type. But, I urged a repeated test. On the theory that two independent doctors might give a different answer. We did them over with an expensive Princeton doc. (Embarrassing Squared! Had to tell the doc about my first test. Then repeat it. That was “unpleasant”.)

Still, no trouble found!

Around that time, she got “sick”. Malaise. Gradually losing all her energy. That was most unlike my “energizer bunny”. So after this “flu” didn’t go away after a week, we were banging on the doc’s door. He diagnosed her with “depression” and RXed her with sedatives. Needless to say, she then was sleeping 20 hours a day. Talk about no energy? She had no life. And I was getting crazed.

About that time, AT&T offered a new idea in healthcare — an HMO. (RCHP) And, it was (a) cheaper; and (b) offered a more complete coverage. So, I figured what could I lose. And, Frau Reinke was in no shape to object. So I signed up. That day I received from AT&T HR an enrollment package. I filled it out immediately. Heath history as best I knew it. Frau Reinke could barely stay awake to talk let alone give me intelligent cooperation. So I put them in the same day, I got them. That was Friday.

Sunday night about 6PM, I got a strange phone call. It was “Doctor Ron” who had been assigned to us. And, he wanted me to bring Frau Reinke to the HMO center immediately. Wow! I did. He did the first of what would be lifetime of finger pricks and a quick blood glucose test. She was “HIGH”. He gave her a shot of regular insulin. Forty units as I remember it. Said to go home have her eat something substantial now, and be back first thing in the morning fasting. He said it was obvious to him from the intake questionnaire that she was diabetic. But it had to be confirmed. When I asked him about “depression”, he said that was absurd. And, that I should sue for malpractice.

The rest of that was history. Then next day the fasting blood sugars with a glucose chaser confirmed Type 1 (“Brutal”) diabetes. She left with a bunch of RXes. We started that day with an N injection in the morning, and R before every meal.

Doctor Ron was kool and Frau Reinke really loved him. His advice was to just do her best but that it would be hard for her to keep her BG in the normal range. His sister was a brutal type 1 so he had empathy. (Only doc I ever heard that told a diabetic it was OK to have some ice cream. But just enough to satisfy a craving.) He was gentle as he gave her the bad news that she’d find it impossible to get pregnant. And, that she couldn’t worry about her weight either. That would be only as controlled as her BG permitted.

So, unfortunately, Ev and I could never have kids. And in those days they didn’t have the turkey basters and chemistry experiments that allow everyone from 70 year old women to strange men to have kids.

But she was a tough girl. She announced: “We can adopt!”

So, we tried to adopt. Spent a small fortune and jumped through innumerable hoops. Only to be told “We didn’t qualify because with the diabetes, Ev would not live long enough to raise a child.” Cross my heart. That’s what she was told. Broke her heart. Cried for hours. Then she dusted herself off and found a little girls bball team to coach. And went and got a job.

She loved children because she was a child herself at heart.

Upon reflection, I should have sued or shot that doctor, strangled that social worker, and litigated the issue of diabetes as a disqualifier.

Lesson to be learned: Never believe a bureaucrat; regardless of whether their Gooferment or from a private agency. Don’t take someone’s “no” for an answer. If you want it, go for it and, don’t let anyone kid you, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

I regret I wan’t as pushy then as I am now. Maybe H is correct? I should write that book.

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*** begin quote ***

2010-05-20

{Extraneous Deleted}

This bowel prep has not gone as easily as I thought it would. The GoLitely sucks. I find it had to drink. Hope that I drank enough. Sorry but I should have kept my mouth shut about using up this forty dollar bucket of crap. Hope I never have to do this again. Argh. 63 plus 10 = 73. SO I won’t be doing it again.

What will my life be like in ten years?

Will I be alone? Will I have buried Ev? Odds odd I will have. The Blood Doc wouldn’t give her a five year prognosis. And, the DIABETIC DOC had a hang doc look when she told him. SO clearly we are on the final stretch. What will I do without her. My own laundry for sure.

Where did my life go?

How can I communicate that? Rage at the dying of the light!

Rodney Dangerfield’s performance sticks in my mind. Have to watch that again. Like Groundhog day, it is strangely prophetic.

{Extraneous Deleted}

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I’m cleaning up old files and notes off McBa. Prophetic? I knew we were drawing to short odds. Makes me mad. Perhaps if the situation was explained better, I’m sure she would have made different decisions about how to spend the time she had. Running from doctor to doctor was a waste of time. I wonder if they really knew it. Argh!

Oh well, water under the bridge.

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OK, it’s 1967. I’m working full time, going to schools full time, and dating full time. Making great money. Life’s good. She’s basically agreed to marry me when I graduate from school. No ring yet. No date. No telling anyone that we were committed to each other. (Like anyone could not see it.) She was wearing my college ring. (Yeah, I was whipped.)

She’s driving an old Corvair. And, I’m driving relatively new International Harvester Scout.

Her’s uses fan belts every other week.

(You’d love it. She had the spanner and a bar. And a supply of fan belts. She could slap a new one on in in under ten minutes. And, despite what Ralph Nadar said about fireballs, she loved that car. It was cheap on gas. When the girls would go to the shore, they always took Ev’s car.)

My Scout was not very “stylish”. It was OK, but I knew she hated it. (I never understood why? It was a sports model with the “swept back” roof. An injineer’s vehicle. And, every winter I earned my insurance money towing folks out of the snow. NYC always did a lousy job of snow removal.)

So, I said something like “you know we should have a new car. I worry that sometime your going to get stuck. And we’ll have it for when we get married.”

She was concerned about the money, but reluctantly agreed.

We agreed to spend the princely sum of $1700. She decided she like the Chevy Nova. She decided she liked brown. (What a surprise! She loved brown. I used to tease her about it being “Mahoney color”. And, “Aren’t Irish girls supposed to love green?”)

When it came to paying for it, I suggested we borrow from the wedding savings account. “No way. We have to be ready when you graduate.” (OK, nice to know that was still on plan.)

“OK, I’ll get a loan and we’ll go half and half.” “No, I don’t think so. You make more than I do; so you can buy it.” “OK” (Yeah, whipped.)

“And, since I’ll be driving it, we’ll register in my name. It’ll also need more insurance, so you can pay the extra.”

And about a week later, she was driving a brand new Chevy Nova. And, was happy as a … … Well, she was very pleased with it and with herself. Things always went better when they went according to her plan.

So, when we’d go out on a date. I drive to 39W8th street and park the Scout in the train station. Walk across the street and pick her up. And, we’d go out in the Nova.

My reward? I got to drive.

Funny the things we do for love.

I would love the opportunity to do it all again. I wouldn’t change a thing.

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Went to WalMart to get a cheap printer. Argh! FML. She said she was fine. We walked into WalMart form the handicapped space, walked the width of the store and she was getting shaky. Stupidly I didn’t suggest she take of the motorized carts. Stupidly I didn’t insist we leave. She dismissed me to go look for the printer, and I like fool went and got it. When I found it and brought it back to the dog food pile she was sitting on, she was gone. Argh! I caught up to her with the basket with a few items in it, looking for the table section. That should have been a tip off she was struggling. It was easy to find. She tired again and I sat her on a barstool. We headed for the checkout. She had to stop on the way. She sent me ahead to check out and like a fool I did it. I really thought she was just tiring. I was on line and I heard some commotion right behind me. When I turned around, it was her on the ground. Argh! FML. I left the cart and went to her straight away. Ripped the crotch of my pants getting there. Needless to say it was a mess. he’s OK. Once she got over the shock. They insisted she sit in a wheelchair. (Good response by the WalMart assistant manager, who really wanted to call 911. She was fit to be tied. But admitted she wasn’t up to walking out to the truck.) She has no memory of the events in WalMart. Only remembers being wheelchaired out to the truck.

We then went to the diner on the way home. She was still shaky. On the way there she checked her sugar and it was above 200. That means it was heart; not sugar. Argh! At the diner, she ordered a full dinner but hardly touched it. I’ve attempted once again to tell her to do less. But got told off, “I can’t do any less”.

Oh an the printer doesn’t work. It’s been used and repackaged. The contents aren’t right and the plastic was opened. FML I’m pissed that this is another example of a return sold as new. I didn’t think WalMart did that. I know Officemax, Staples, and Office Depot do. Back it goes today. Argh!

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Maybe H’s right. I need to collect all the stuff I’ve learned over the past year, or the past 5 years, or the past 40 years, and create “The Guide to Patient Advocacy”.

Argh!

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Our Girl’s Name

Most folks don’t know that Frau Reinke was named after a cousin, Evlynn Mahoney, who died very young. Given that Our Girl had that high school ring from Saint Dominic’s in Jersey City, her namesake died after high school. Like a dummy, I don’t remember any of the details. That ring was carried in her jewelry box from place to place over the years. It was never lost or far from her thoughts. When diabetes swelled her hands, my class ring and her wedding ring joined that ring in her treasure chest. We got some much larger rings for her to wear and never talked much about the swelling and what it portended.

Her first battle over her “name” occurred when she hit Holy Family Academy in Bayonne. She showed up and gave her name “Evlynn”. Tilt! She’s told: “There’s no saint named ‘Ev Lynn’. No one ever got anywhere arguing with Nuns. So she registered as “Ev E Lynn”. Not happy but that’s life.

Fast forward about four years. She’s graduated from her beloved HFA and it’s time to get a job. Off to AT&T in NYC. I have no idea what led her there? It might be interesting to know. That decision predetermined so many other events. One wonders what might have happened.

So she gets the job and is filling out the forms. She has her diploma, social security card, and her birth certificate. No problem. Turns them into HR and is waiting get her I’d card. Tilt! Big hub bub and consternation. Finally it’s determined she’s not “Ev E Lynn”; she’s “Evlynn” as far as AT&T is concerned. (You really had to her tell the story!)

The story doesn’t end there!

I got in the habit whenever asked “Wife’s name?” to reply “First Name Evlynn Spelled Funny ‘E’ ‘V’ and ‘LYNN’ six letters only one E”.

When we bought our first house, despite all the reminders about name, the papers were all wrong. She had to go through, cross out every misspelling, and initial it. And, had to sign an affidavit to that effect. Boy was she <past tense synonym for urine output> off. She may have even said an Irish Prayer for the lady who did it.

When we bought the shore house, guess what happened?

Yup, another cross out and initial session.

Airline tickets, drivers license, auto title … none ever went easy.

But she was EV LYNN! And, never got rude with the paid help, no matter how they butchered her name. She was much more patient with it than I would be.

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