The New Neighbor
Our past is inextricably connected to our future. The word “Bashert” comes to mind – that which was intended by a higher force. Some say that there are no coincidences. You decide.
A few weeks ago, I was introduced to a new neighbor. He lives just a few doors away. Sitting next to one another at a Friday night dinner table, I enjoyed our conversation and felt a special connection to this interesting 46-year-old man who told me that he is searching for a wife (his itemized preferences to be remembered as I scrutinize lovely single women in the future.) An unexpected chain of events linked us to one another and has impacted upon my life dramatically.
In July of 1978, Hubby and I had been married six years. We had opened a designer fabric store which was doing nicely. We had already lost a child. While in labor, having been sent home from the hospital, one of our cocker spaniels – jumped on my sizable belly when I was resting. When we returned to the hospital there was no heartbeat.
While trying to move forward from this trauma, I suppose that I was looking for something meaningful with which to connect. When I heard that the Neo- Nazis were holding a rally in Marquette Park next to Skokie, Illinois, a city populated by many aging holocaust survivors. I suggested to hubby that we join a group of protestors flying to Chicago from Los Angeles. It was an impulsive decision. Having joined thirty-five Los Angelenos for the day, we held a prayer service in front of the stage where the Nazis were spouting their hate. In the center of our circle was a young, Orthodox Rabbi B. from North Hollywood California. Hubby and Lev Mak, a Russian-Jewish-bodyguard who had been in the employ of Armand Hammer (the oil magnate), protected Rabbi B. from any danger. Both men were muscle-bound and impressive. The service was held without incident, probably because of the 400 mounted police which made their presence evident to the crowd of 2000 who attended. Most of the attendees were not Jews. The Chicago Jewish community had declared that their members should stay home and ignore the event hoping that the evil would be ignored by others as well. It is not my nature to give those who hate, free-reign. So, Hubby and I stood up to be “counted” while chilling verbal assaults were hurled: “Heat up the ovens!” and “Hitler should have finished the job!” were unexpected from the attendees, but showed that antisemitism was alive and well in Chicago – even then.
From that experience came a life-long friendship with Rabbi B. We took classes from him, supported his institute and were honorees at more than one dinner held to raise funds for his terrific work.
Why do I mention any of this? Because our new neighbor had recently immigrated to Israel, moved onto our street and had been a devoted student of the very same Rabbi B. We will call our neighbor “J”, as I have not yet asked his permission to write about him. When J moved from New York to L.A. he was directed to Rabbi B. When J made the decision to move to Israel, Rabbi B. later directed J to another Rabbi in Jerusalem. I will call him “Rabbi K.”
Hence, our new neighbor J somehow landed in our life after a very long series of life-experiences. Until we finally met at the Shabbat dinner, he had forgotten that Rabbi K. had suggested that he introduce himself to Hubby and myself as we live on the same street only doors away from one another. Perhaps it was not coincidence that our hostess, a close friend, seated us together so that we could complete what had begun long-ago.
Sometimes there are a series of events which one cannot ignore. Had we not gone to Marquette Park, we would have never known any of these men. Could it be an accident that a decision made 43 years ago to stand up against evil had a ripple effect continuing in our lives today? Perhaps this should not be taken for granted.
This is all a being shared as a prelude to this evening’s event. I had called our niece in London who asked how Hubby was doing after the horrid experience recounted in my last entry, “The Fourth Wife.” I was delighted to tell her that he has been doing great with no repeat of residual problems from that night 12 days ago.
I spoke too soon.
This evening Hubby spiraled out of reality once again, insisting that I was not his wife. Yes, he said that he understood that my name is Barbara, but that was the problem because his wife also has the name Barbara! He began to obsess about his wife:
“Why hasn’t she returned home? Why hasn’t she called? Can we call her? It is dark outside…she is in danger. We must call the police to find her!”
Hubby became angry at me for not being willing to help him find his wife. I did try to tell him that I am his wife, which only infuriated him further. Upon advice from others after the incident 12 days ago, I tried to humor him, make some light-hearted comments, but he would have none of that. He felt that I was belittling the danger to the other Barbara. Another suggestion from a good friend whose husband acted in similar fashion, was to give Hubby an additional pill which calms aggression. I had given him the same pill at 6:30 but out of desperation, decided to give him still another at 7:30 PM. I was willing to try anything to stop the spiraling of anger, fear and demands to call the police who ostensibly would be told that they should go out and find me. Knowing that the medication we give him every 4 hours is mild, I was not afraid to give him an extra dose. Still, it takes about an hour to become effective.
This vortex of confusion was similar to the previous incident in other ways. It happened both times when Hubby and I were alone. He had been talking for a very long time with Violet, his aide, before she left for the evening. Perhaps he was over-stimulated and when he joined me on my own, everything went haywire. I was not as emotionally gutted this time but still I needed to find a distraction for Hubby’s brain as he was becoming more and more frightened, belligerent, and verbally abusive.
That is when I thought of J. He had been to our home a few times for meals and I felt a friendship developing. We were having stuffed bell peppers for dinner tonight, and I purposely added extra so that I could give him two for a future dinner in his apartment.
He sent a message to my cell, totally unrelated to anything I have written thus far. I grabbed the opportunity and asked if he would be willing to come for dinner and help me distract Hubby from this horrible scenario. J was concerned that his presence might place fuel on the fire. It was a definite possibility – however he had come to us for lunch a week ago and Hubby enjoyed his company. It was worth the risk.
J arrived quickly and immediately engaged Hubby asking how he liked the weather these days… moving on to questions about Hubby’s career in the world of fashion in Europe and his boxing days. It did not calm Hubby’s tormented soul immediately. Hubby was still saying that he wanted to have the police called to report his wife “missing.” J brilliantly said; “She is not missing. She called me and invited me to dinner at 8 PM. She will be here later.” Hubby took note and allowed himself the luxury of recounting his entire career in great detail. It was fabulous to see J work his magic.
Violet responded to my call for help and returned at 8 PM. Having the two extra humans in the house was a terrific asset. We sat down for dinner at 8:20 P.M., and hubby realized that the “other” Barbara had not returned. He was truly upset and said he could not eat while worrying about her. I took his hand in mine and said, “There is nothing to worry about. I am your wife. I am Barbara. Everything is fine.” Violet nodded her head in affirmation of my status. The medications finally kicked in and J kept asking questions of Hubby who was delighted to have an avid listener. The stuffed peppers, French fries, and the melon were served and devoured.
And this is why we all need good friends in our lives. When a neighbor can also be a friend, it is icing on the proverbial cake! No one should have to handle experiences such as these alone.
