Life is a double-sided coin: We can’t be happy all the time. The circle of my acquaintanceships has dwindled so that I’m increasingly out of the loop. I’ve come to realize that even friends move on. I suppose that this is part of the natural human process. My friend, Phyllis, warned me years ago that this would happen.
Some people have remained the North of my internal compass. One of them, Helen Ernstes, passed away week before last at age 101. I like the expression “passed away” because although poignant, it implies a sense of heading from one place to another.
Helen was special to both Bill and me. We first met her in 1958 when we started teaching at the old Franklin Twp. High School that was located on Post Rd. just north of Wanamaker. We didn’t see her as often in later years, but she remained a constant in our lives.
How times have changed since Helen started teaching back in the old days after World War II! She kept her marriage a secret for a year when she taught in Frankfort. “They would not hire young married women because they might become pregnant!” Come to think of it, many of my teachers were single women or past the child-bearing age.
Helen loved to tell that she was responsible for our marriage. Bill tells the story differently, but mine is the correct version, of course. I was teaching at Howe High School after spending two years as a Teaching Assistant at I.U. Bloomington and was dating a fellow T.A. whom I’d met there. Helen called and said, “Bill Clarke says for me to let him know if you ever want to go out.” After the breakup, I tipped off Helen. She called Bill and said, “Rosie’s ready!” We became engaged within two months, and the rest is a fifty-year-plus history.
Helen always preserved a cheerful demeanor. She never whined or complained. Her husband, John, was in the hospital, dying of lung cancer. Helen was leaving their Irvington home to visit him, slipped on the wet driveway and broke her hip. She never saw him again and couldn’t even attend his funeral. All she ever said was, “He was my best friend.”
One of Bill’s former colleagues, Suzie, was also there when we went to the visitation for Helen. She said, “Rose Mary, I read your advice in your column. I haven’t followed it yet, but I intend to.” If I remember correctly, the advice was that when you reach sixty-five you should begin planning where you will live when the time comes for you to leave your home. As our population ages, that time is probably going to come unless you are rich enough to hire full-time care. If you don’t plan early, someone else is going to make decisions that you may not like. Get busy!
Bill and I are aware of the costs and amenities of various facilities. We’ve decided to remain here as long as possible. We live in a one-story house that is located a few blocks from grocery, hardware and drug stores, restaurants, the bank, a gas station, the hospital, physicians, and church. We can hire repairmen, lawn care and house cleaners for less than it would cost to live in assisted living, and we have an extended health care policy. While you’re younger, develop a relationship with a financial advisor and investigate various facilities and supplemental drug insurance and extended health care policies.
Four years ago, Helen’s nephews urged her to move to Lebanon to be close to them. She spent a night at an assisted living place to see if she would like it, sold her home within a few weeks and moved. I called her later and asked, “Helen, are you happy there?” “Of course I’m happy. If you believe that you are going to be happy, you will be happy! I can’t talk very long — I have an exercise class.”
P.S. Our wrens are back! wclarke@comcast.net