A reminiscence of two memorable characters from long before I retired.

  
He was as big a man as I’ve seen, ever. Easily Nathan Allen topped five hundred pounds. He always came to my jobs in a pick up truck and stayed in it, facing the houses I had contracted to re-roof. Under Nathan’s watchful eye, his crew, led by his son, made short work of stripping the old roofing and toting it away in a high boarded trailer. I never saw him, feet on the ground, until after he learned I was a carpenter. He summoned me to his home after that and he took me into his house to explain his situation. Nathan had a good face and he was well-spoken. As he talked, he led me into the kitchen.

“I built my mother a cabin in my backyard,” Nathan said. “I had to for her own protection because she kept wandering to the house straight across the road, thinking she owned it.”

He pulled the shade above the kitchen sink to expose the view through a little window. I could plainly see the shack, which was crude in appearance but seemed sturdy and weatherproof.

“She has Alzheimer’s,” he continued. “She doesn’t even know who I am. It’s a strange feeling when she tells me about her son and doesn’t know she’s talking to him.”

He dug a finger into his shirt pocket and produced a scrap of white.

“I made up a list of repairs for you to do. She’s back there, but won’t be any trouble. Her name is Sally.”

After a bit more preliminary conversation, I found myself entering Sally’s home. Nathan had made the interior livably functional. Any single person could be comfortable living there. The first thing on the list was to clean out the toilet tank. The tank was filled beyond capacity with sticks, twigs, and leaves. As I opened a plastic bag afforded me by Nathan, Sally appeared at the bathroom door. She wore a simple dress and she looked clean and neat and not at all unwell.

“The kids keep doing that,” she said, referring to the mess.

It was a simple matter to make the toilet functional. Next on the list was to replace the kitchen faucet with one Nathan already bought. As I turned my attention to cutting off the water valves beneath the sink, Sally passed nearby and spoke. “Did you eat your corn?”

That’s when I became aware of two dolls sitting by the table in highchairs. There actually was no corn and no plates to hold any food. These urchins would have been identical, except Sally had hacked off the hair of one and made it a boy. Her blaming the kids for clogging the toilet connected.

As I continued the faucet work, she said she had things to do and went out the door carrying a gardening spade.

I was completing the list when Sally returned. She paused inside the doorway, beaming proudly.

“I’ve been working,” she said.

She held up a weed measuring perhaps eight or ten inches in length. She had done such a perfect job of extracting it from the ground that not a leaf had been damaged. The soil on the roots had been cleaned away and they were also complete and perfect. I found myself liking this person.

“You’ve done a marvelous job,” I said.

I cleaned up after myself and took my leave. I left hoping for an opportunity to help her more.
I didn’t need Nathan’s services for a few months. When next we met I asked for an update on Sally.

“She’s becoming violent,” he said. “When we take her clothes to give her a bath, she says, ‘These are my clothes’ and fights to keep them on. She has gotten unmanageable. There’s no choice but to put her in a home.”

I took the news with disappointment. We continued to work and life went on. For a time I had all interior work but finally needed Nathan’s services again.

I didn’t have to ask about his mother. Nathan immediately showed some photos he had taken of her in the home. I saw a woman on a bed with an arm in a cast and a great black circle on her face around one eye.

“I’ve tried to get her back, but they won’t let me,” he said.

I shared his frustration. Heartless bureaucracy gives power to the heartless. As he’d made clear, there was no way to rescue Sally. She was trapped in a horror show with one inevitable end. She succumbed to the brutality and soon was laid to rest. I quit mentioning her to Nathan in the times we were in contact.

Nathan had his own health problems, of which he never complained in my presence. Then he told me of an agency that offered to re-home him to help with his medical situation. It meant giving up the business and moving to the far side of the city. With no fanfare, he moved and left me with his son to deal with the roofs. The son and I were not compatible – I won’t say more – and we soon parted ways.
Often I think of Nathan and wish him well. I hope they made his life better. May his mother rest in peace.