A forgotten letter from Mom, and a thanks to Dad

When I was looking through my shoebox of old photos for my family's years at Reeseman's Park, I came across this thank you note from my mom that made me tear up a little.  I have no memory of it, but I'm very glad I held onto it.

My mom always had the nicest stationery (and a real love for nature and hummingbirds) and the most beautiful handwriting.  In this letter, she was thanking me for my contribution to Dad's headstone, and her Mother's Day gifts.

There's no date on the note, but when she congratulated me for passing my driver's exam, I knew when this was written.  I wasn't able to get my driver's license at 16 like most kids, because I was diagnosed with epilepsy a couple years prior.  In the state of Pennsylvania, you had to be documented seizure free for a certain amount of time (2 or 3 years, I can't remember) before you could drive.

My final seizure was in Nov 1989, when I was 28 years old.  By the time I was eligible to get my license I was in my early thirties and had learned to get by in life without the need for a car.  But when Dad passed in February 2001, I told my mom at his funeral that as soon as I got back to the city I was going to sign up for driving lessons and have a car by that summer.

I kept my word and got my license (and a car) 4 months before my 40th birthday.  I was able to start driving back home on a regular basis, and got to spend a lot of weekends with Mom. 

Sad to say, but it was Dad's passing which motivated me to learn so Mom wouldn't be so alone.  Here is Dad's headstone (with his mother, my Grandma Morris directly behind his) in our family's cemetery.  My mom's headstone is now besides Dad.

Love you, Mom & Dad.

The Reesemans Years: A small look back for posterity's sake

In the spring of 1985, my oldest brother Duke was living in Washington DC and my sister Shawn & I were working and living in a small house in town, back home in Waynesburg Pa.

There were still 3 kids at home—our brother Steve, and two sisters Donda-Lin & Courtney.

One day, Mom called Shawn & me with some exciting news; they were moving out of the old farmhouse and into a brand new mobile home.  What!   

My sister Shawn on the front porch at Reeseman’s, Aug 1995

After years of scrimping and saving on Mom’s part, they bought a brand new mobile home with a room sized ‘tip-out’ giving them a double-sized living room.  

They managed to secure a corner spot on the perimeter of Reeseman’s, a large mobile home park halfway between the farmhouse and our high school in Jefferson Pa.  Dad installed a porch and shed on their lot, and Mom planted flowers everywhere.  My mom was very, very happy.  Every time I made plans for a visit, Mom would say "Doug, bring your laundry home!  We have city water now, we've got all the water you need!"  

(Growing up with a shallow well, we never seemed to have water.  I never brought my laundry to their new place, but it was funny and generous of her.)

Just months after moving there, my brother Steve graduated high school, married and moved out.  One year later in 1986, our sister Donda-Lin did the same.  Shawn moved back in with them.  

They lived there from 1985 - 1999, before Dad talked Mom into moving to a house in the country again.  But I know my mom was very happy there with her compact place and city water, and I was surprised she let it go.

I have hundreds of family photos, but only a dozen of the Reeseman years.  I wanted to share them here as they are so few and I miss those times with my family so much.  We got together at Reesemans often for holidays and family things, but shortly after they moved from there, Dad died and then Mom a couple years after that.  All of the kids went their separate ways.   

So if you'll indulge me... here's the few photos I have from those years at Reesemans.

My brother-in-law Bobby, me in the back and my pretty sister Donda-Lin at Christmas, in the 1990s.

Bobby & Donda-Lin’s baby Drew looks about a year old here, I’m guessing this is sometime in 1994.  Drew and Dad were very close.

Dad is giving Drew a piano lesson, 1995.  I just love this photo, Drew was curious & sweet as can be.

Here’s myself on the left, my brother Duke, our brother Steve with his sons Stevie and Eddie, and Dad.  This is the only photo I have of the Morris men together.

My brother Steve from behind, Dad, a 3 year old Drew and our Grandma Morris, Christmas 1996.  Where did the time go?

My (always photogenic) sister Donda-Lin enjoying our Mom's new "art" couch.  That thing was super comfy, I miss it still.

Here's my youngest sister Courtney in her acid washed jeans, outside the front door

Grandma Morris and me, my birthday, Halloween 1996.

Here's Mom & Dad's dog Frankie (who Mom insisted was our brother).  He was a sweet little guy, and after Dad & Mom's untimely passing was adopted by my sister Donda-Lin and her family, where he lived a long time.

I wasn't going to share this one, but oh well--home for Christmas, in my Superman sleep-clothes.  (Mom supplied me with that red smock for my cape.)

And finally, I wanted to share this one with a funny story.  The night before Thanksgiving 1993, I came home for the holiday weekend and saw no bags of food or such on the kitchen bar.  I asked "Where's the stuff for tomorrow?" and Mom said Donda-Lin wanted to prepare the entire dinner, and would be arriving with everything.  

I said "But she's 10 months pregnant!" and Mom said she couldn't talk her out of it.  Sure enough, Donda's car pulls up outside and she comes clanging into Mom's house, giant with a baby and carrying all these pots and pans.  I said "Donda what the hell!" and she started laughing and yelled at Mom that I was going to make her water break.

Sure enough, an hour or so later--her water broke.  Shawn, Mom & Donda-Lin rushed to the hospital and Donda gave birth to her daughter Drew Thanksgiving morning.

The End

A little prayer for my ceiling--and a bigger one for Josh

The other night I was talking to my sister Shawn on the phone (an uncommon thing, we don't do a lot of phone calls) and she was giving me updates on family members like our brother Steve and my 21 year old niece Sophia, and the talk came around to my apartment--and she remarked how much she liked it over my last place, and I said yes I did too.  It's had its share of issues, but I love its character.  I've always been more comfortable here too.

After we hung up, I went in to use the bathroom and saw this nasty water stain above my shower head.  I took this photo, went on the Steiner website, posted it and requested maintenance.

I knew it was going to be a tricky thing.  Our bathrooms have drop ceilings for easy access to pipes.  The back half of our bathroom ceilings contain heat & cooling pipes for our own apartments--but the front half, where my shower head is, contain bathroom plumbing for the apartment above you.

The next day, Steiner contacted me and said James was on his way.  I like James, he's a trim black man, 60 years old, loves to talk but is very courteous and very professional.  He came with a replacement ceiling tile and all kinds of pipe repair tape, clamps, etc. and told me the leak looked like a small one, and I was lucky.  If it had been a more serious one, I'd have to wait for ED.  ED is Steiner's "master plumber", a larger than life character in high demand.

After James completed his repairs and installed a new ceiling tile, I thanked him and walked him to the elevator.  He said "If you see the SLIGHTEST indication of another leak in the next month or so, let us know right away.  But you should be good for a couple more years at least."   I said okay, went back to my apartment (had to use the bathroom) and saw this:

I ran back into the hallway shouting "WAIT!" just as the elevator doors shut.  I called Steiner and said the leak on the right side was repaired but now there was a leak on the left.  They said they'd get someone back out here as soon as possible.

The next morning Steiner contacted me and said that James said there might have been some residue in the pipe, and asked if it was worse.  I said yes, it was worse alright.

They said okay, they would be sending ED the master plumber, tomorrow.

So the next morning, Ed shows up with his helper in tow.  (Ed's a tall bald man with a ring of wild white hair on the back and sides of his head.  He's 67 but looks 77.)   I said "Hi Ed, you look different than the last time I saw you."  He said "How far back was that?"  I said it's been 3-4 years.  He said "Oh sure, I've lost 60 pounds since then.  I can't be carrying all that extra fat into my golden years!"

As Ed and his helper started dismantling the ceiling, hooking up large tools and barking back and forth, I went into my bedroom and shut the door.  My head and face were on fire.  I can talk to someone on the phone for hours--but being around people and noise sets my long covid into overdrive.  When I woke up today, I spent the morning with pretty bad shakes.

When Ed was finished, he knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to come see.  The ceiling looked great.  He apologized for the bathroom (the floor was covered with grit, dirt & plaster--the tub streaked with oil.)  I said it was not a problem.  He said "Are you alright?  You look shaky."  I said I had a neurological condition that's been slow to heal.  Then I said "I almost forgot, where's your other helper?"  (I couldn't remember his name, it's Josh.  Josh is 26 year old and a plumber's helper, anxious to learn the trade.)

Ed said "That's a sad story.  Josh got covid back in...January.  Came back to work a couple weeks later, ready to go.  A couple weeks after that, he got sick again.  His parents took him to a couple specialists.  They said he has something called long covid.  He told me he has a good day here and there, but mostly he stays indoors.  It's going on 3 months.  He doesn't see an end in sight."

I said "I am so sorry.  Do you have a couple minutes?  I want to share something with you."  Like I told Ed, at least I'm in my sixties, retired.  Josh is a young man, just starting out.   I'm not a religious man, but I'm praying for him.