So close and yet so far . . Rita is a very different person. About her my temptation is to say nothing but good about her. That isn't possible if the honesty which motivates this essay is to mean anything, but it must be emphasized that my debt of gratitude to her is considerable. What I'd like to do, whatever situation may prevail in the future, should success finally arrive in my life and there are resources to use at my discretion, is to try and repay her twice over, and more than that. She deserves it. . One example sets the stage. After my heart attack, early 1999 by then, and it was determined that the 1998 stent implant was insufficient to solve the problem and I would need double by-pass surgery, I faced a crisis. My job prospects were limited and the best employment available to me was ending. This was driving a van to Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix to pick up airline personnel and take them to a posh hotel / motel in Tempe. After a trial period there was a medical exam and upon learning that I had a heart attack my employment was terminated. Which was understandable; if it was my company, my policy would probably be about the same. However, this left me without an income not too long before the double by-pass was to take place. . Rita came to the rescue. She made sure that I would be able to stay in a nice motel in Mesa for about two months, enough time to recover and regain my strength. There was also an allowance for necessities. At some point I also found another job, as a general purpose 'helper' at a charter school during that time, the work was not at all physically demanding, and I was able to save up enough money to allow me to relocate to Oregon that Summer. I still had a car at that point and it was a pleasure, when the school year ended, to drive to San Francisco to see Rita again, and then to continue on to Eugene. . In the course of my wanderings in the years before that time, as far back as the 1980s, Rita had helped me out in "pinches" several times when I had no other recourse. This is not to discuss large sums, more like an occasional twenty-five dollars, maybe fifty, but godsends when every dollar counted. I'm smart; I can do a lot with little, but it is impossible to do anything at all with $0.00. . There is also the fact that we simply got along; for a brother and sister we were friends. That was reassuring and always very welcome, especially when I needed someone to confide in whom I could trust. And her visits to Eugene were always pleasant occasions, opportunities to talk with her and discuss mother, strategies for dealing with her "issues," and trying to plan for an uncertain future. . Which is a very short sketch of what Rita meant to me in those years. She encouraged me in my creative efforts when no-one else did so, those she knew about, my "other" work was nothing I shared with anyone in the family. At any rate, she was always helpful, and I will always be thankful. She even put up with me at one time in the later 1970s, when I lived in her basement apartment on Teresita Boulevard for about a year. That was the time I worked for a Ford dealership in San Bruno and commuted back and forth daily. And, needless to say, I got to know her daughter, my niece, in those years, a very intelligent young lady who went on to an interrupted career at San Francisco State University as a teacher of English to Chinese students. Kimberly had learned Chinese and used her skill at that language to teach immigrants and exchange students who needed bilingual instruction. . More could be added but this ought to be sufficient to provide context for another side to the story that must be told now. For some of Rita's mistakes, and they could be monumental, also effected my life. . The worst was a 30 year mistake that is finally ending since Richard has COPD and won't be around much longer. But while it lasted that relationship was an unmitigated disaster for her, one which she denied with every breath, but about which there never was any doubt as far as everyone else was concerned. Rita had made the worst possible choice in a paramour and never came to the realization that she had thrown away her best years for a talentless leach with low-level intelligence. No-one else had any difficulty in seeing Richard for what he was; Rita could never see him objectively and was exploited by that sonovabitch year after year. . To be sure, I can hardly be too self righteous about this matter. A number of people questioned me about my choice in marrying Janet back in the 1960s. As friends they tried to be diplomatic but they got the point across. Regardless I would not listen -consequently I paid the price in years of mostly unhappy wedlock with her. But I finally did realize that what my friends had been saying was all too true. I finally escaped that relationship and started my life over again without her. I did leave Chicago, I did move to Kentucky and, especially after the divorce was final, never looked back. . Despite the horrible mismatch with Richard, this never happened with Rita. She is as oblivious to his lack of any qualities that matter as she always has been, even now as he wheezes his way toward the end of his worthless life. . To make something clear, consider his mental abilities. The best way to do this might be to cite an anecdote. I was talking with Robert one day and mentioned someone we both knew. "There's X, a really decent man, smart enough, honest, and the rest, but he just isn't 100%. Its hard to say exactly what it is, but he is playing with 2 or 3 cards missing from the pack. Then there's Richard, a total ass in my opinion, and he is playing with half a deck missing." Maybe the most clinical thing to say is that he is mentally incompetent. . He also, as I see things, manifests pure slime. . What else do you say about a "man" who lives, year after year, on the largesse of a woman? Although there were times when Richard paid his way as Rita's "tenant" mostly he did not, and subtracted resources from Rita's income. Her paycheck was not exactly munificent; she needed to budget carefully in a high cost-of-living city like San Francisco. I don't think she ever earned more than $ 35,000 to $ 40,000 per year, and closer to $30,00 some years. The amount was variable because she worked as a contract court reporter and assignments were not always predictable -and some months were "slow." Not exactly a surprise that she became habituated to drawing money from the rising value of her home, purchased in the seventies for $ 60,000 and worth more than ten times that amount by the nineties. . The point is not that Richard was a loser because he didn't earn much money, the point is that he was a parasite who did not pay his way and allowed a woman to subsidize him decade after decade. What kind of man is that? The answer is that he isn't a man at all, he is a leach. He has no pride in being a man. He deserves no respect. . Again, I can't be too self righteous. For about half a year I lived with Thea in Arizona as her guest in her townhouse in Scottsdale, a residence that I could not possibly afford on my own at that time. While the story is complicated -I certainly had that kind of earnings potential and did become a teacher at Phoenix College in that time- nonetheless Thea bore the burden of expenses. I did not like it one bit. It made me very uneasy, it wounded my pride. . To be sure, there were mitigating factors in my decision to exit the town house and relocate to Tempe, Thea's possessiveness was more than I could deal with, but near the center of everything was my feeling that as a man I ought to pay my way, and then some, simply to be a man. And that I could not do. I needed to live some place where that would be possible and where I was not surviving even partly on someone else's dime. Especially not on a woman's income. . Sure, allowances can be made for a period of illness, for example, or undeserved loss of a job and the need for time to become re-employed, but otherwise you either observe rules of manliness or you do not. And I cannot take any pride in myself unless I observe these rules. . Richard did not seem to have ever heard of this kind of value system. He was the equivalent of a eunuch as far as I was concerned, "slime" in other words. He was happy to be taken care of by a woman, no questions asked, to siphon off her resources, and, along with everything else, to be disagreeable with everyone in Rita's family. . This does not answer the question, why Rita allowed things to that far. She had some kind of psychological problem, that is certain, but it is a man's responsibility to act decisively when he should, and Richard never did so. . . Then there was the unforgivable sin; for this he deserves uncompromising opprobrium. He has earned my hatred for eternity; I can never overlook what he did, or more precisely, what he did not do at a time when some kind of self sacrifice on his part was absolutely imperative. . This concerns the difficulties Rita faced in the wake of the financial crisis that began in 2008, that she was still grappling with several years later. She was struggling to keep up her house payments, and there were other expenses and demands on her money. Every month was a challenge and some months it was a near miracle that she made it at all. . Rita was within three months of eligibility for full Social Security benefits. By then, Richard was no longer employable because of his age and lack of marketable skills that might have compensated. Regardless he had some resources of his own. Probably not all that much, but my understanding is that he kept an independent bank account and had a few of his own assets "for a rainy day" or in consideration of future obligations he felt he had outside of his life with Rita. Which is hardly an issue, that part is normal enough. . However, Rita was just then in the midst of the worst financial crisis of her life. She simply did not have enough income to cover her costs, and meeting a balloon payment mortgage outlay that had come due was a bridge too far. It was at that point that Richard had a moral obligation to give her all the help he possibly could. Sell off property, withdraw funds from his bank, ask for a loan from a relative, whatever it might take. He did no such thing. . I have no idea what he said to her to beg off his obligation but whatever it was, Rita bought it. And this despite the fact that Richard was now just about wholly dependant on her for his survival needs -food, utilities, transportation, incidentals, everything. Richard refused to help Rita with what, for her, was an impending disaster. . As Rita saw it there was no alternative .She could not turn to mother for help because the matriarch was insolvent. And I had no means to help, I lived from month to month, close to zero savings, with no margin for error. So, Rita took early Social Security, 90 days away from full benefits. . It takes no brainpower at all to comprehend how ill-advised this decision was. The difference is between 2/3rds of an income and 100%, for the remainder of one's life, possibly for another 20 or 25 years. Her advisor at Social Security pleaded with her to wait, I pleaded with her to the same effect and strongly urged her to persuade Richard to do everything he could to help out. But, of course, Richard refused. And so, Rita went ahead. That was about three years ago; that decision has already cost her roughly $15,000. . And still she clings to a caricature of a man, someone who has no pride, no talent, no ethical standards that matter. She clings to a parasite who could even cause her death. . This brings us to a final consideration. . One year ago Rita suffered a massive heart attack. Hardly a surprise. She had lived under constant stress from 2008 until that time. Richard added to her troubles by his need for support from her. Perhaps it was inevitable.. What was fortunate was that Rita was taking a deposition from a respected cardiologist at his office when her heart attack occurred He knew exactly what was happening and took emergency measures immediately, and had her rushed to a hospital, just a few blocks away. The damages were contained, Rita survived, there were two months or so of gradual recovery and overcoming slurred speech, etc, but in time she was a close approximation of her normal self. But she could never work again. . Finally, when Kimberly took charge of the house while Rita was still hospitalized, and because the medical specialists made it clear that Rita must not act as anyone else's care giver while she needed medical attention herself, Richard was sent packing. He had to vacate the premises also because Kim would need the space as Rita's full time care giver until full recovery, a process that would take several months. At last Richard was no longer going to be a drain on Rita's resources. He was a veteran and was able to find medical accommodations elsewhere, soon enough. . But that is not how the story ends, because, you see, Rita still had feelings for her favorite worthless parasite. . Remaining in her home on Teresita Blvd. had become untenable; there was not nearly enough money for the purpose and there would be no further income. Just maybe, had Rita been able to draw upon full Social Security payments, something might have been possible, but she could not do that, in large part because of Richard. Now there would be no choice but to sell her house. . She had endured through the worst of the real estate crash, however, and property values in the city had rebounded. She could sell her home for an amount nearing $900,000 -after it had slid into the $ 700,000 range before then. There would be payments to make from that amount, she had to retire her financial obligations, but when all was said she had almost a half million dollars at her disposal. . But don't forget the Richard factor; soon Rita would be nearly strapped again. About this, however, Rita merits a good deal of the blame herself. . What would any smart person do with a half million dollars in the situation just described? You'd think the answer would be obvious: . Invest in accommodations, for sure. If it was me, I would have told a real estate agent that $275,000 was the absolute maximum I was willing to pay. Of course this allows for a mental reservation; a really great deal on a superlative property and the maximum could become $300,000, but that would need to be the true outer limit. There may well be twenty more years of life ahead, and possibly more. Even $200,000 in discretionary money only comes to $10,000 a year. Out of that must come auto expenses, computer needs, clothing, educational costs, occasional entertainment, and everything else. The calculus involved is really simple arithmetic. . So you start by insisting that you not be shown any property selling for more than $275,000. A good real estate agent understands all about mental reservations and might tell you about a "must see" home that is a bargain at $ 295,000, and that is OK. You are still on track. . Given a recent heart attack you would certainly also insist on a first floor unit if a condo was involved. Hiking up stairs on a daily basis is a very bad idea, after all. . Rita also had some other specific requirements she wanted to meet. Her new home needed to be fairly close to Kimberly's residence in the East Bay area. And it should -must- have a nice spare bedroom. The reason for that was because surely Richard would get better, his COPD would ebb, and he could return to living like the leech that he is by nature, of which Rita approves and seems to be unable to live without. . What, then, did Rita actually do? The condo she bought is on the third floor. It cost more than $450,000. But it has a really nice bedroom for Richard. . Rita, following mother's footsteps, is now house poor. Which is pathetic because it is all so needless. Worse, as everyone knows, COPD is a non-negotiable disease. Nobody gets better from it. While the downward trajectory may temporarily reverse course, this can never last. There are no long term prospects. To base expectations on any such thing is stupid, there is no other word for it. Some part of the now inevitable money shortfall might be compensated for by inheritance, of course, but mother made sure that there would not be any meaningful inheritance for any of her children. Except, possibly, for one thing... . There was another strange incident to report. It would be helpful to remember exactly when this took place but my best recollection is that this was in early 2009, before she wrote her will. It was at a time when mother's financial worries had begun in earnest but when she still seemed to have at least a measure of confidence in me. She was contemplating a reverse mortgage but that was still in the future. She added that she would still have a "legacy" to pass on. The reason was because she had maintained $120 monthly payments on her storage locker in Salinas all that time. By then she had invested around $ 25,000 in the locker and its contents. At the time of her death the figure was more like $30,000. . You would think that whatever was in the locker was worth a lot of money. And later, following her demise, Robert showed me photographs of a few of the contents. He said that these indicated only a fraction of what was involved, that mother had never told anyone the details, and there were no additional photos, but there was much more. . Whatever she had purchased that could fill the locker was from money she had available to her immediately after receipt of her $400,000 or so inheritance -in mid 1990s dollar value, probably $550,000 in current value. She was "flush" at the time, in other words, and felt free to indulge in high status art purchases. . Some of the things mother collected did not impress me. She was an art naif and her tastes were a weird mixture of kitsch and class. Robert, with no training in art at all, and not especially interested, didn't see anything particularly worthwhile in the photos. What caught my attention was what seemed to be a quality reproduction of a T'ang Dynasty ceramic horse. By itself that piece might be worth several hundred dollars. Another twenty pieces of that quality could well add up to $10,000+ in value. That mother had paid as much as she had to keep the locker should have indicated that 10K was an absolute minimum. She could well have, over the years, spent more than the contents were worth, but she knew how much she had paid for her collection and that had to be a factor in why she continued to write monthly checks. . The reason for Salinas, by the way, was nearness to the place of grandma's death, Carmel. That is where Robert and mother lived shortly before relocating to Oregon. But she had dreams of some day returning in glory to the Carmel-Monterrey area to settle in splendor at Pebble Beach. For that to happen would requite one of the kids to make it big and provide her with the necessary cash. Hence the explanation for the art collection. It was originally intended for her (wishful thinking) sprawling Pebble Beach estate. What, then, was the problem? . The trouble in 2015 was that mother had stopped paying on her account in 2014. She simply did not have enough money. No-one bothered to tell me, of course. This information was only volunteered by Robert at the funeral. Whether he even told Rita is a mystery. As noted, Robert was just about as insanely secretive as mother. For him, divulging any "inside information" might diminish what meager status he had as mother's (sort of) confidant. As if anyone else gave a hoot. Who cares who keeps the secrets in a nuthouse? . But real money was at stake, his secrecy, not to mention mother's, could well result in throwing away $10,000 or maybe a lot more. . I was the one person in the family who had a sense of the market value of art. After all, my minor at Roosevelt University was art history. I know the subject reasonably well. Also, when mother's financial woes could no longer be hidden, I told her that she could save real money if she liquidated her locker in Salinas. I would be willing to drive her van to California, bring along her oyster plate collection (appraised at $1000) for Rita to sell for her in San Francisco, where this was possible, then load up the vehicle with whatever was most valuable from the locker and take it back with me to Eugene where she could seek buyers for various items in order to raise money she desperately needed. To be sure, while I expected nothing from the trip by way of compensation it would have value for me nonetheless -at long last I could personally visit friends in the Bay Area I had not seen in years, and maybe make some new professional contacts. For mother, there would be an infusion of capital and the end of a monthly drain on her resources. It was a win/win proposition. . It impressed mother sufficiently for her to talk on the phone with Rita about. However, as I learned later, since this was also kept secret from me, the idea was torpedoed because it would cost too much, it could not be done for less than $500, after all. Actually my thinking was that the round trip would cost about half that, based on how I spend money while on the road. Mother was estimating what it would cost if she was making the trip in the kind of comfort she was accustomed to and demanded for herself. She no longer could drive by then, Robert worked a steady job, and a man was needed for any heavy objects, like pieces of furniture, that might be in the locker. That left me. . In mid 2015 the arrears for the locker were well in excess of $1000. I was still willing to make the trip. Now it was Rita who dragged her heels. After relocating to her new home, paying all sorts of expenses, her liquid capital was down to a few thousand dollars. She was reluctant to spend one-thousand dollars of her money on what she considered to be a gamble. There was nothing I could do. Effectively I had been disinherited and had no legal claim to any assets. And so possibly $10,000 was thrown away because Rita had allowed herself to become house poor, a consequence of mother's bad example, and because she wanted a nice room for worthless Richard to continue to bleed her dry. . It all fits together. . And it disgusts me in extremis because it all is so damned stupid. . . The question arises, what was mother thinking when she stopped making payment approximately a year before her death? Let me make a wild guess: . "Surely Rita will understand and rescue the locker. All those conversations we have had over the years, of anyone she will understand. And she knows my sentiments about the locker, we talked about that subject specifically at one time. I can depend on her." . Anyone have a better idea of what her thoughts might have been? . .
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