Sandra's Letter Found in a Nice Hotel

Christine is a mom, an average mom given to baking pumpkin bread, or orange cake or chocolate chip cookies with oatmeal and white chocolate chip cookies. Today she stepped into a hotel elevator and a ink scrabbled piece of paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She didn't want to read it, but well, no one was around except me and I was as curious as she was.

Dear Emma, I'm really sad today and totally messed up like Danny didn't call and I know he's with someone else. I mean, I really love him I'll never love anyone else. I know you're going to say he's not that into me, but that's just a stupid movie. Everyone is into Jennifer Aniston.  Well, I was cutting my bangs and he came in and wanted to, well, I'm not sure cause he was really drunk and I hate that. I know he had stuff in the truck. He was so sweet and I needed to cut my bangs straight across, they'd be so cool but he grabbed the scissors and stuck his tongue down my throat practically strangling me and I gagged, so he threw the scissors on the bed and said I was a stupid bitch. I really love him but I had to cut my bangs and he wouldn't wait and then he wouldn't get offa me, so I called him a jerk and he got really mad. I don't get why he had to do that. My hair would be so cool if my bangs were really short and straight across, so I picked up the scissors and went to do that thing again but he hit my arm and it really hurt. The %&#($ (I can't write what she said here) cut my bangs and now they're like really really ruined. I mean, like I can't do anything. I really love him. He felt really really bad and brought me a beer.  I was so mad I hit him with it and the thing, well, he said he was going to the cops. All he has to prove what happened is the bent cap. Can he like, really really get me in trouble. My folks will kill me, and I really love him, and if I can stay with you he'll treat me like good  and the cops won't tell my folks. Maybe you could cut my bangs and make them okay. I've been clean for 2 weeks, and won't do nothing. My bangs are making me crazy and he &*#6#$ you know who. I don't know where you are, so I hope this gets to you. I haven't worked all week, I'm never going back to that place, Danny's be there and he'll send me out. Mom has Sammy. Can  you go get him for me, say you are keeping him for the weekend and you can do my bangs. Love, Sandra  P.S. I'm sending this with Tif. You have to get me. Ill die without him. 

Now, Sandra didn't spell it like this, she couldn't even spell her own name. Christine wrote on the borders of the page. Dear Sandra, go home or go somewhere safe and get some help. Danny is a loser and you need help. She put it on the cork board in the lobby. I mean, like, she asked me what could to do? I wanted to cry, so here goes. like Sandra wherever you are, Danny doesn't really really love you, he's a nasty jerk and creep. 

And that's the truth. To some extent.   

Jirapan, care-giver extraordinaire

"Don't tell me about Jesus," Florence said. 'I'm Jewish."

"I tell her," Jirapan says, "Jesus loves you. You see. He your friend."

Jirapan has been in the USA for 25 years but she still rolls her r's into l's and gets words mixed up or they just somehow don't get included in her stories. But, Jirapan tells everyone who listens that Jesus fills her heart with joy, and her blessing is to share this love. So, a 95-year-old Jewish lady telling her to shut up about Jesus goes in one ear and out the other. Besides, Jirapan is convinced that at 95 this woman needs Jesus' love now.

Jirapan used to have a hair salon, so she comes to our house once a month to cut my husband's hair and always fills us in on her recent exploits.

"At first she angry with me. but that not stop me," Jirapan says, laughing as she speaks, sighing and clasping her hands which she raises above her head. "I have to tell Jesus' story.  I talk and talk. He Jewish, too, and cleanse us so we go to heaven. Without him forgiveness, we go to hell. You cannot go to heaven without Jesus.  I tell her that. Don't care if she get angry. God give me this job to do. I keep talking."

"So, how do you know this woman?" I asked.

"I know her son, Mal (Mark) who is gay, but I forgive him and pray for him, too. He my friend for long time, good man,  and I think about him, then he call me and ask me to help his mother who just home from the hospital. Temporary, I tell him, I have no time, but God want me to know this lady. I know that much now," Jirapan says, as the words come to her fast and tripping one over the other.

All this comes tumbling out, full of conviction and giggles and even a tiny little finger-wagging. Mostly it is the laughter that fills syllables and inflection, and all her story-telling. It gets criss-crossed and jumbled but Jirapan knows her purpose.

  

"I do favor for Mal. He find no one else, so I say okay. Now, three weeks later, his mother want me everyday and she listen when I talk about Jesus. Still Jewish, but listens, she nicer now. I get her to take a bath, I get her to eat, take her medicine. She do what I say. I don't care if she say I have to leave when I talk about Jesus. She a good woman, her sons make her feel bad, and that no good. I tell them to be good to their mother. God tell us: Love your mother and father."

Jirapan tells me what really bothers her about this family. One of the old woman's sons wants to put her in a nursing home.

"Throw his mother away! He say his mother too much trouble!!" Jirapan says. "My culture, you take care of your parents. Lot of work, maybe, but you do it. Right thing. I know right thing from wrong thing. Throw his mother away. Shame on him. She still can do for herself."

Jirapan frowns at this point and stomps one of her tiny feet that happens to be in a strappy kitten heel shoe. "This woman is good person, she go to heaven. God love her," Jirapan says. "So, I keep talking about Jesus. She getting stronger everyday. I take good care of her. If she still able to fight with me, then she doing okay. I tell myself she getting to normal. Think positive. She old, so what. Mal pay me, and I need that, but I glad he call me about his mother."

Thing is, Jirapan spoils this old lady. She treat Mark's mother like her own mother, and she wants Mark and his brother to do the same thing. She tells him to think of how many years his mother took care of him, changed his diaper and cleaned him up. She tells him to tell his brother that. Jirapan's determined.

"So, now old mother, Jewish woman need taking care. Think about it," Jirapan says. "I tell Mal to get her frowers (flowers) , mother like loses (roses). Do every week. Say to her, I love you."

And that's the truth. To some extent.