Sunday, January 11, 2009


There is a lifer hear named Kit who has occupied Room one Hall one (the first room on the left when exiting the lobby) for God knows how, at least no one here seems to know how long she’s been, let alone why she is here.

One of the receptionists, who has worked here the longest said Kit was in Room one Hall one ever since she got here in 1967 (I should have asked the if she had had the same roommate all this time, though I doubt it).

As much gossip that goes around here, even if the news can be weeks behind, no one knows any facts about Kit. Most think it is something mental, but I find her quite lucid. When she isn’t reading, smoking, watching TV, or asleep in the living room chair, she is willing to have a pleasant albeit superficial conversation.

My tactless ex-roommate would either describe her appearance as “a kyke and a classic Bull Dyke” or when he thought he was being complimentary “Tug Boat Annie.” To me she looked like any other Pacific Northwest woman raised in wet weather who at some point in her life decided that shorter hair is easier to manage when it rains all the time.

She doesn’t appear to have a change of clothes but seems always clean but does not have any odor as I can tell. She does smoke a lot but manages to keep the funk out of her clothes or stains off he teeth or fingers.

As far as I know she has not had a long term roommate. I know the woman that Kit lives with now, but don’t feel right prying, but I have never seen them interact. (At this point I must confess I have taken every meal for the past thirteen months in my room rather than watch a roomful of old people, some toothless, eat.

Kit has no real friends amongst the residence but has a cordial relation towards most of the staff, and also myself, because we despise Ray, the hermit who camps out in the lobby to force the rest of us to either watch the Weather channel or FOX.

Anyway, it has been such a slow day I’ve just been observing Kit as a potential character. She is gruff on the outside with a bit of a soft interior. She has no problem admitting her sexual preference, her political affiliation, the fact that she has given up Judaism in favor of Paganism (I am guessing she went to college in the early, very early 1970s. Just don’t ask why she is in the home. The first time I asked a large cloud passed. “That is a private matter,” she stated. Then the cloud passed and things were back to normal. She read and I wandered off to find something to do.

I haven’t any deep conversations with her, or anyone else since, and I’m OK with that but I’ll keep my ears open and try find out who this woman is?

BTW, If I were ever to go blind she could never sneak up on me. As she shuffles she say's "Oy, Oy, Oy, Oy, Oy,....) Personally, I find one "Oy" enough.

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