Goodbye, Old Friend

11 this morning, overcast but partially clearing as the day goes on. Not a great deal warmer, about 24 now. We ended up with 5" of snow on the deck, 3" on the road because some melted before sticking.

Roger became a good friend over the past couple of years. He and Larry were both former military men and shared stories every time they got together. Roger was there, every time we went to our booth at Ravenswood, and always helped load and unload. He was a master craftsman at weaving chair seats and  repairing furniture. He and Larry were "beer buddies"--every Friday afternoon when we were at the mall they ambled down to their "office" at the corner Mexican restaurant and had a "conference", which meant drinking one beer each and gabbing. 

Roger and Larry, when they showed up one day in the exact same outfits, clowning around.

The two of them, sometimes joined by a couple other men from shops across the road, could often be seen on the benches outside, watching traffic, talking to passers-by, and laughing and talking. I loved to see them out there, just completely enjoying themselves, telling jokes and who knows what else.

We knew Roger had health issues, and tried to stop him from helping move furniture but we might as well have been talking to the wall. He loved to help, and always wanted to see what we were bringing in, asking what we'd done to the piece, what paint, etc. etc. He was a shy fellow at first, but before long he was a fixture at the mall and on the street, and knew so many people. He had a sly sense of humor--he once told us that when he was 60 he got married, for 10 months, to the same woman, he said. And added, "and that was ten months too long." That was his one and only trip down the aisle. He often joked that he was becoming "like that" with the mayor, and was working on getting a job as a trash collector so he could pick good stuff out of the trash. He changed his mind about that job, he said, after he helped clean out a terrible apartment.

A Navy career man, Roger worked for contractors in the DC area before coming to Ravenswood. He'd traveled the world in the Navy, and whenever we'd mention a country, he'd say, "I liked it there. Had a good time there", with a sly grin. I have the feeling that the good times involved parties, drink, and women, but he never elaborated too much. I expect I missed some good stories. His nieces told me the other day that when they were young they'd ask him where he'd been, and he'd say, "Oh, here and there." They thought he was a spy, and he never corrected that idea, although I bet he got a lot of laughs out of it.

10 a.m. every weekday morning his gray Ford truck would pull up and Roger would be out helping his friends across the street open, carry things, whatever needed to be done. He always spent time on our mall too, where he had a booth, and willingly helped any customer who needed a hand, or sometimes just hung out and talked. He never bored us.

 He was there to help when several of us cleaned out a terrible apartment, and when the water leak collapsed the ceiling in the shop across the way. He cruised town looking for discarded tables and chairs that he knew he could repair--and we often took him pieces we didn't want to attempt. He always made them look amazing. I bought two of his chairs a couple years ago, and they are our favorites.

One of our Roger chairs. Look at the detailed weaving. He sometimes did logos like Harley Davidson, WVU, etc. 

Last Friday Larry came to work with me, just to hang out with Roger and the guys across the street. It was a relaxing day for him after some hard work the day before. He and Roger had their usual "conference", and as we left I asked Roger to come to dinner with us, but he said he had things to do and would see us on Sunday when the mall opened again after New Year's Day. That, sadly, was the last time we saw him. 

When Roger didn't show up on Sunday, Larry called him but got no answer. That was unusual because he always answered his phone. So Larry went around to his house and knocked on both front and back doors, with no answer. Roger's truck was there, and that made us uneasy, but we thought perhaps he'd gone to an auction with a friend and was out of cell range. We were home Monday and tried to call, again with no answer. Tuesday morning when we were on the road, I called the mall to see if he'd been in. When we heard he had not we knew something was definitely wrong. The mall owner called the police for a safety check, and later we learned that Roger had passed away in his home sometime over the weekend.

We are so sad to lose this good friend, and feel badly that we didn't push harder to make sure he was okay when we couldn't contact him. It's a fine line, isn't it, between being helpful and concerned, and being invasive in someone's life. We didn't want to be pushy, and yet, would it have made a difference? I don't suppose we'll ever know. We will certainly miss ol' Roger, as Larry calls him. He was one in a million.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.