2002-04-20 � Farewell, Theresa

It is very likely that what you are about to read is the very last Theresa entry I will ever make. I'm here at the library on what may be my last work day. This is the last Saturday before reading week. It's the last reading week before I graduate. And since I'm not sure what I will be doing when the new school year rolls around, I'm not sure if I will be able to come back as the weekend reference assistant. It is my hope to come back, but who can say what is to be?

This morning Peth and I arrived at the library to find the network down. It was a complete nightmare. Let me break it down for you this way. We didn't even have Minesweeper. Peth and I started freaking out. I think I even saw Peth writing things down using a pen to scratch symbols out on paper. It was sickening.

Well, Theresa took a great interest in the whole event "Just kick it," she said.

"Oh, Theresa," I said. "We can't kick it. It's the network, not the computer. It's outside of this building."

So, Theresa put a determined look on her face and hiked up her elastic waist band. She took a running start at the desk and kicked at the CPU. She missed, but just barely. "Stupid machines, I'll give you what you deserve! A kick. That's what you deserve!"

"Hey, Theresa? Before you kick at machine again let me try this. Let me try to fix it this way." I entered the network password again and got the same error message.

Theresa came and stood over my shoulder. She read the words in the error message out loud. "What's that mean?" she asked.

"Um, well, it means it's broke I guess. I guess it's just broke real, real bad."

"I guess you two won't know what to do with yourselves, will ya. You'll be lost all day!" She giggled at our agony and took a seat at her desk.

Peth and I started banging our heads together in an awkward and unrelentingly violent way. We were forced to communicate verbally like in olden times. It was horrible.

Pretty soon Theresa started laughing. She held up a news paper and read an editorial about the fashion of toilet paper and whether it should roll under or over.

"Oh, I remember when the joke was all about which page of the Sears Catalogue we got to use." Theresa scratched absently at her midsection. "Of course, that was-- and there were so many-- you know they used to have-- and I just can't get anything like that any more. They just don't do that no more. Some people don't use the colored paper-- say it clogs the-- and you know fool thing-- but we used to have pink and yellow and blue. Now it's only white. Only white."

She trailed off and Peth and I sat quietly trying to make sense of her words when she came blazing back to life. "Patterns!" she cried. "They have patterns now. You know with the fruit baskets and elm trees on the paper towels. I just can't get over it. We had to get-- you know what I mean. Thirteen of them." She giggled mirthfully.

"I like the paper towels with paterns. And toilet paper too. Sure is fancy, and I don't like the fancy. You know they call you and they don't even need you to sign, the Deleware with the corporations. VISA! You know. Deleware Visa. And I don't want to be rude, but they're calling from India and I can't understand them for nothin' and I have to say, 'I'm sorry I'm not interested' and they say, 'but bluh bluh bluh.' So I say, 'I'm sorry I'm not interested' and they say 'but bluh bluh bluh.'"

Usually when this kind of thing starts, Peth and I turn our backs to Theresa and focus on our computers. We had no escape this time. There was no escape. I saw a bit of panic in Peth's eye. Only a hint, but it was enough.

"And do you know, I get my bill and I look and it has-- for every hundred dollars you pay so much or so-- I pay it, you know. I don't want to pay any interest, so there's never much it's like eighty-three cents. And I call and I have to say what is this eighty-three cents? It's crazy.

"And they say it's the protection, but I didn't authorize it and do you know what? Do you know what? I never signed for that. They just do it without even getting my permission and I think that's wrong. And it makes me mad when I think about all the Americans who need jobs and I could at least understand the Americans. I don't understand the India girls when they call about the Visa." She motioned at her ear. "They don't talk right. It's not clear."

"Well," Peth said. "I'm going to go hang a sign on the computer lab that says the network is down. I'll be back."

And then Theresa and I were all alone and she told me that sometimes at the holidays her credit card balance goes up.

I think over the past year or so, Theresa has become my very favorite thing about working at the library. She's so wacky and clearly in the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease. No matter where I wind up, I'll never have this kind of comedy again. She's absolutely irreplacable and I will miss her.

But not enough to visit her or anything. Not that much.

Posted at 11:35 a.m.

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