Copeland's Corner: September 8, 2023

Goodbye to my neighbor Alice.

It’s funny how God will sometimes put people in your life you didn’t expect to meet who leave a profound mark upon you.

I moved to my current neighborhood a dozen years ago this month. Even though I grew up in this town, I didn’t know this particular neighborhood very well. That said, I liked the house, and I loved the view so, I bought it. After about a month, I really hadn’t met anyone. Folks tend to keep to themselves around here.

One day, I was hosting my KGO radio show, and I mentioned on the air that I had just moved and didn’t know any of my neighbors and hadn’t made any friends. Later that afternoon as I was pulling up to the curb in front of my home, this crazy woman started knocking on my closed driver’s side window. I hadn’t even turned the motor off yet.

“I’m Alice,” she shouted. “I’m your neighbor and I’ll be your friend.”

And for the next twelve years, she was, sharing stories and experiences. Regaling me with tales of issues both large and small. My favorite is the time she came over to tell me how the new car she’d just purchased had been stolen from the mall parking lot during her first week of ownership. Though she was dismayed by the development, she took it in stride. A few days later, she knocked on my door again to tell me that the missing vehicle had been located. It hadn’t been stolen after all. She had just forgotten where she parked it.

Alice was a force of nature, actively involved in charities, the Girls’ Club, and issues surrounding local politics. She was well informed, and she didn’t suffer fools. The last election cycle, I put a lawn sign out for a candidate I’d been asked to endorse, and Alice called me and firmly, yet politely, made me explain my rationale for making the choice I did. By the time she was finished, I’d endorsed her candidate too.

She was a great neighbor, and she watched my house like a hawk. My son-in-law came by a few weeks back to pick up some packages and parked in front of my house. Before getting out of his car, he checked his phone and returned some texts. Within minutes, Alice was at his window demanding that he identify himself and explain his business there. She even made the poor guy show her his ID.

Alice didn’t just keep an eye on the house. I’ve been very public about the fact that I suffer from sometimes debilitating bouts of depression. When I do, I tend to isolate and stay at home. If Alice didn’t see me for a bit, she’d come over, usually bearing baked goods of some kind, to see if I was okay. I usually was, but it was nice to know that I had a guardian angel across the street keeping an eye on me in the event that I wasn’t.

I didn’t see Alice for a while and a few weeks ago I noticed several cars in her driveway. Alice lived alone. She was an empty-nester and her husband had passed away before I moved to the neighborhood. I finally went over and asked if everything was all right and a woman, who introduced herself as Alice’s daughter, told me that Alice was in the final stages of cancer and was in hospice care at the house.

The last time we talked, Alice had mention in passing that “the cancer came back,” but blew it off like it was no big deal and went on to tell me a jovial story. I don’t remember what it was about, only that it made me laugh.

My eyes stung with tears as I asked her daughter to give Alice my love.

When I got home across the street, there was a text message from Alice’s phone. It was her daughter. She wrote that when she told Alice that I had come by to see her, she smiled. I assume that she was in pain and on medication to keep her sedated and comfortable, but she smiled. Her daughter said that she and her siblings couldn’t believe it. It was one of her last smiles. He daughter told me that they’ll never forget it. Alice died the next day.

That experience made me think of love. If I can find a way to give people a moment, a brief, unforgettable moment that will warm their hearts, that is the definition of love.

In Alice’s memory, that’s what I’m going to try to do. Give one person a “moment” every day. It doesn’t have to be a big consequential moment, just one that brings them joy no matter how long it lasts. I’m not perfect and I’m sure that there will be days that I forget or days I’m in such a foul mood that I won’t be up to it, but that’s the goal. I figure it’s the least I can do for that crazy lady banging on my car window who left such an indelible mark on the rest of my life.

Goodbye, dear friend.