(part two)

I’ve given you a picture of my Arthur inside and out.

Now I’d like to tell you about he and I, our friendship.

Eventually due to his declining health and his need for assistance, Arthur was transferred from independent living in the main building to assisted living.

His apartment ended up being right down from my office and we both enjoyed being so close.

I’d pop my head in now-and-then to see how he was doin’ and he stopped by my office, usually with a note he’d written the night before asking me to do a little chore for him next time I was in town.

There was always something to talk about, debate about, tease about but never enough time during my work day.

Pacific Grove is a teeny town. It only took only minutes to get from one end to the other.  

When I headed for work each day, the song playing on my radio as I pulled out of my driveway was still playing when I parked in front of the building entrance. 

I could have easily walked to work, no problem but after working a full day, even the short distance seemed too far.

Before long, I began going home after work, changing into my jeans, and returning to Arthur’s room as a friend visiting, not his nurse.

The local grocery store (a Quonset hut, built sometime during the second world war) was on my path to Arthur’s.

I’d pull in, grab a bag of candy, usually black licorice and head on down the road to Arthur’s.

Arthur would be waiting for me, propped-up on his bed, making it comfortable for his neck and backbone using a few pillows. 

I’d pull up a chair, plop my tired feet up on the side of his bed and we’d talk and share the candy til it was gone.

Why didn’t we sit on a sofa or chairs you might wonder?

Remember how UNmaterialistic I told you he was? 

His one room apartment consisted of his bed, one chair, a couple small tables with lamps, a big bookcase loaded with books and a huge, very messy desk.  

And no TV or sofa. 

We could have gone to numerous spots around the building with sofas and chairs or even outside BUT, there was some sort of policy that prohibited the employees from any kind of personal fraternizing with the residents.  

And, how does one with a soft heart do that? 

I couldn’t and I didn’t.

(Neither did other staff, right Karen?)

Anyways, I’m not real good at following rules…..especially dumb ones and well, the administrator, Dragon Lady (named and referred to by many residents) was a hard-core stickler for rules, dumb or otherwise.  

Oh, there was also a policy against accepting gifts from residents.  I did understand that one but, no way was I ever gonna refuse a gift given to me from those sweet people.  I had a file-cabinet drawer filled with gifts. AND, the day I left there, no longer an employee having to follow stupid rules, the contents of that drawer went home with me, (so there, Dragon Lady!!)

Our after-hours visits lasted til just before I had to get home, greet my husband, eat dinner and zip down to the water to watch the sun dip into the Pacific.

In order to learn all I could about this interesting man, I had to be very clever with my questions.

He was a loner and a recluse and according to him, he led a pretty boring life and I guess maybe he did but, I’m telling you he was SO interesting.

His brain.

I loved his brain.

Arthur was a man of science and like many other scientific men, an atheist in his belief system.  

In truth he didn’t care what anyone believed, he really didn’t but, he loved to write letters to the editor of the Monterey paper and challenge religion.  

Over the years hundreds of his letters appeared in the paper and he drove many local Christians crazy.

He could rile-up half of Pacific Grove.

And very similar to today’s political situation, he gained lots of enemies who responded pretty nasty to his letters and guess what? 

He got a kick out of it!!

Pacific Grove began as a small week-end Methodist retreat Community by the Sea.

First there were just tents and then teeny cottages were built, maybe 800 square feet inside. 

Many of those teeny cottages remain still in P.G.

We tried to buy one once.

900 square feet, no closets inside, pretty bare-bones for a tad over one million dollars.  

Of course, that was maybe 15 years ago.  

You can guess how much that little cottage would cost today.  

It’s true my friends, housing and everything else is ridiculously expensive but we would live nowhere else. 

This is our heaven.

  

The saying was Carmel-By-The-Sea, Monterey-By-The-Smell (sardines) and Pacific Grove-By-God.  

Still today there’s a church practically on every corner.

I’m guessing there was only one atheist in town and I knew him!

I used to tell him I’d never walk down a P.G. street with him for fear of being slugged.

I’m telling you true!

I spent time once-in-a-while with Arthur on my days off. 

Also probably against policy!

Sometimes I’d take him to the used bookstore on Lighthouse Avenue in Monterey and he’d load-up on books.

Let me say here, taking residents anywhere in my car was frowned on by you-know-who, well…..so frown! 

My funniest trips with him were when he’d tell me he needed to go clothes shopping. 

Back to Lighthouse Avenue and the Salvation Army store. 

He never wanted me to come in with him. 

I saw him once from my car walking over to a pants rack and just taking 3 pair, too quick to look at them or even the size.

Just like that, it was over.

One afternoon he came into my office wearing a pair of those recently purchased pants. 

I burst out laughing at what a clown he looked like, they were soooo big! 

He left but returned maybe 30 minutes later.

The pants were now a much better fit.

I commented on the improvement but…..how?

He then showed me his handi-work.  

He’d taken his stapler all the way up the legs on the inside!

Crazy, but it worked for Arthur!

I also did do a bit of personal shopping for him now and then, no biggie as I mentioned how small P.G. was.  

Usually just post office stuff.

And floss, often he’d have me pick up floss for him.

Once when he opened a drawer in his desk, I saw a hoarding of floss containers.

WHY I wanted to know.

Because he said, he didn’t want to run out.

Well, no chance in that happening…..for years!

As I mentioned, we weren’t suppose to take our residents anywhere in our cars.

I DO understand the reasoning but this was back in a much simpler time.

So you tell me…..you’re one long block up from a most beautiful part of the Pacific Ocean and it’s a blue color I can’t even begin to describe. The sun is shining and it’s a warm, perfect day and there’s a great road right along the water and the top is down on your little car.  

What would you do?

What I’d do is every once-in-a-while, I’d kidnap Arthur!

We’d go for a ride along that amazing water, marvel at the waves and get lost in it all for a few wonderful moments.

Well worth breaking another dumb rule for.

And, I think we both enjoyed it just a little bit more ‘cause we weren’t suppose to be doing it!

However, every now and then he legitimately left the facility, filling out the required paperwork. 

Those were times when Arthur sold another story and received a check.

He’d contact his friends he dubbed his Usual Suspects (all four of us) and all women, and invite us to dinner, his treat.

Fandango, was where we always went.

An amazing Mediterranean restaurant. 

I’m hungry just remembering.

There were a few things about Arthur that drove me almost to the brink of insanity, real close to wackiness.

I mentioned it in the first part of this Arthur story.  

These were very wealthy people living in this facility, including Arthur.

Yep, he bought used books, used clothing, had no sofa, no chair or TV (but lots of floss) but had he wanted all of those things, he could have had them…..and lots more.

He really had no use for material things however he was a writer and he had a typewriter…..a piece of crap typewriter I might add.  

It was ancient, not even electric.

A few of the keys didn’t even type through all the way so some of the letters only partially showed up and when he made a mistake, he had to use those little white corrections strips.

OK, I understood his lack of desire for material things but, he was a writer, a kinda famous one and he needed a good typewriter.

I tried every way to convince him to get a computer.  I mean, I REALLY tried time after time but his ever-constant reply was there was nothing wrong with his typewriter. 

I’m usually pretty good at convincing but Arthur never gave in.

Once I threatened to buy one for him as a gift from me.

He said it would sit in the corner in a box!

I couldn’t even convince him to upgrade a bit to an electric one, nope.

My last ditch effort was at least a new manual one, still nope.

And I gave up!

He typed standing up.  He did!

He had a few different sized boxes on the middle of that big desk of his and on top of the boxes, eye level when standing was his old klunker typewriter.

As crazy as it seemed, I did understand that one.  

Because of the hump on his back, it was hard for him to sit and type and try to look up, he had it rigged on the boxes just right for him.

Once I offered to have some ergonomically correct person come in and figure out a way to make it comfortable and work for him.  Nope again.

The Dragon Lady eventually got to me and I sadly left my position. 

I wrote and mailed 80 personal good-bye cards to every one of my wisdom ones, even the crabby one that didn’t like me.

I continued to visit Arthur whenever I wanted, no longer an employee or  governed by dumb rules. 

 

After seven heavenly years of Monterey living, I became too lonesome for my daughters and grandchildren and we moved back inland to Sacramento…..home-base.

Arthur and I kept in touch with letters.

Once I mentioned in a letter that my eyesight seemed to be getting bad, I couldn’t read the numbers on my alarm clock so easy anymore. 

A short time later, a package arrived, a digital alarm clock.

The numbers were all different colors.

Arthur explained in a letter that he researched and the colored numbers were suppose to make seeing them easier and, they do!

It’s been years now and that clock still sits on my bedroom dresser and remains easy to read.

I fell off of a chair once reaching for something and broke a few ribs.

A safety step-stool arrived shortly after I wrote and told Arthur of my latest clumsy episode.

That stool has probably kept me from falling more times than I like to think.

And, what could I send him in return, my extremely unmaterialistic friend?

As skinny as he was, he had a love of sweets.

I baked, packaged and sent homemade cookies and his favorite, my brownies along with packages of black licorice and assorted candy and always a couple containers of floss!

Arthur loved my brownies and often tried to convince me to market them under the name, Brownies Great Brownies.  

It wasn’t long after we moved back to Sac that I was notified Arthur had died in his sleep.

The part of my heart that belonged to Arthur broke.

Time has softened the hurt but he’s still there in all my memories, and I can smile now when he visits the front of my mind, which is often.

Arthur Porges was an extraordinary man.

Like an oyster from the ocean, I had to pry.

But the treasure I found inside was well worth the work.

Two side notes to this story.

Irwin Porges was Arthur’s brother, another Chicago born extremely intelligent English professor.

Irwin wrote the only biography of Edgar Rice Burroughs, the writer who created Tarzan.

I never met Irwin but I did occasionally share dinner with his wife, Cele when she came to visit Arthur.

Cele and I became friends and she gave me a treasure that I still hold in high esteem, two of Irwin’s teaching books on Creative Writing and Manuscripts.

And lastly, if Arthur sounds interesting to you in any way and you’d like to know a bit more about him and his stories, just type ARTHUR PORGES FAN SITE in your search engine and it should all pop up in front of you.