(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Just need a bit of help, please [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2023-10-25 Before I begin, I want to link the fundraiser I have started: Help 5 people, 3 cats, & 1 dog move to Eureka CA! I’ve been a member of Daily KOS for a long time, but I don’t post much. Mostly, I just lurk. It’s hard to make a post like this, but, the truth is that we need a little help. I am moving to a house in Eureka, myself and some friends of mine. We almost have everything sorted out, but we’re struggling with moving expenses. The move is 700 miles, more or less, and there are a thousand little things we need to put in order. We need a moving truck, and we’ll need to rent a car (because there are too many people and too many pets to move in the truck.) We need to hire some movers. We’ll need to pay for gas. There are U-Haul boxes involved that must be put into storage for a while. It will be good for everyone once it is done, but the actual doing of it is proving to be very complicated. +++++ How I Got Here +++++ I came to California with my husband. At the time, Greg Abbott had won the election for governor over Wendy Davis. My husband had recently lost his business because he had a health scare where he had nearly died, and I had lost my job some weeks prior to the election. We both thought Abbott was dangerous, (I much more so than my husband) and it was time to get out. We packed our one car, sold off everything else we owned, and drove out to Los Angeles. (This is why I took the name, Red State Refugee.) I had friends in California, long time online friends whom I had never met. I will call them the Two Sisters. We arranged that we would go and visit them, and then we would stay in California and start over there. What a wonderful time my husband and I had on the trip! We went to little roadside attractions, to Carlsbad Caverns, here and there. When we arrived, we set up in a little rent-by-the-week hotel, and began job hunting. We went to visit the Two Sisters, who were as delightful in person as they were over the Internet. There were the two sisters themselves, of course, and as the elder one was married, her husband as well. There were two children, two dogs, and three cats. It was a big, busy, rambunctious household, (and a bit of a shock after our very quiet house) but what a grand and glorious time we had! We visited often, grilled BBQ in their back yard, constantly had to shoo the younger dog out of the garden lest she dig holes, and chatted about all sorts of topics. They gave tips about where jobs might be found and forwarded our name to people they thought might be hiring. We laughed and laughed. We single-mindedly hunted for jobs for about three weeks. Then, one day, my husband, my sweet kind darling husband, who treated me like a queen every day of his life… one day he just dropped dead. Literally collapsed in his tracks. I had been in California for one month. I never thought before about what the term “widowmaker” really meant, when talking about heart attacks. I never thought it meant you would be talking to someone one minute, and then the next they would just keel over. I never realized how true and literal the phrase “puppet with its strings cut” was. As it happened, the week-to-week hotel where we had been staying was located about a mile away from a local hospital. It seemed like the ambulance was there almost before I hung up the phone. The ambulance fellows (I never learned their names) tried so, so, so hard. “He’s in a bad place,” one of them told me when they finally were loading the stretcher onto the ambulance. “You need to prepare.” On one level I understood what he was saying, but on another, I just couldn’t wrap my head around that statement. The concept that my husband might not be all right was just too much to grasp. I followed them to the hospital and found the emergency room waiting room. About an hour later the doctors came out and took me to an office, and told me that they couldn’t save him. My wonderful kind husband was gone. Eight years later, I always get stuck here. This is why this diary never seems to get finished. Eight years later and I still cry when I think of that day. I’m fast forwarding a bit here. I’m sorry, but I desperately need to get this posted. Everyone at the hospital was very kind to me, but I’m still not really ready to write about it. Eventually I went back to the hotel. What else could I do? I was in California where I knew no one except the Two Sisters. I was one month shy of our tenth wedding anniversary. Six weeks shy of my birthday. I was 47 years old, and I was a widow. This was before the pandemic. 47 year old widows weren’t common at the time. I made three phone calls. The first to his family in Texas; the second to my elderly father, who resided in Florida at the time, and the third to the Two Sisters. “We’re coming to get you,” was their response, at least as far as I can remember. And they did. Two hours later, there they were. I was completely surprised. Somehow I had managed not to comprehend what “we’re coming to get you” meant. Looking back on it now, I can’t actually tell you how my car got from the hotel to their house. I had a car. They had a car. Did I drive it back? I’m not sure. They had a spare room and it was decided that I would stay there for a while. I don’t remember the next few weeks very clearly. Did I do anything but cry? I cried at breakfast and at dinner; cried because I was afraid to do the laundry, because it meant opening the suitcase where his clothes were packed; cried because I turned on my computer and his stayed off; burst into tears at the bank when the poor teller said, “How are you?” the day I had to get money for the crematorium; cried when I went back to Texas for his memorial; cried when I flew back to LA. I had to open doors again. Did I mention that my husband treated me like a queen? I hadn’t opened a door since we got married. I had never actually driven our car. I had to find paperwork, had to learn to pay bills. I stayed with the Two Sisters for a few months. Their generosity with their spare room, their kindness and understanding, helped me get back on my feet. Eventually I landed a job, and moved into my own apartment. I would never, ever have been able to make it in Los Angeles without them. They have my undying gratitude, and we have kept in touch ever since. Now our positions are somewhat in reverse. Their family has been living on the ragged edge of homelessness for some years; in various housing, but just barely. On my side, I still live in the same apartment complex. I don’t go out much, and it’s not good for me to be all alone all the time like this. So, we’ve pooled our resources to buy a house. That’s been quite the experience! Luckily the elder sister is an unsung genius both with paperwork (she understands mysteries like escrow, inspections, and real estate agents) and with construction (having been involved in theatre and doing things like renovating homes and building sets.) She toured a bunch of houses, video camera in hand, while we all watched breathlessly. “See that?” she’d say. “That’s earthquake damage,” or “This is black mold,” or “This is foundation damage.” After a lot of effort, we finally found a good house, at a price we could afford, that didn’t need major repairs. It has a garden to walk in, with a little pond and what I am certain is the tiniest greenhouse ever to be constructed by mankind. They’ll have solid housing. I’ll have a place to retire in, and so will they. It’s a situation that will be good for everybody. Problem is — we have to get there! It’s something like 700 miles, there are two different households to move, we need to hire movers (I’m not really up to moving and need help carting boxes around,) we have to move pets, have to put stuff into storage, need to rent a car, and a thousand little things. The most immediate problem involves U-Haul boxes. I’d never heard of them, but apparently they are these gigantic, room-sized boxes, and U-Haul will put them into storage while you move. We owe a balance of, I think something along the lines of $728, due in about a week. We’ll be doing the actual move within something like 4-6 weeks. They will move first, once escrow closes, and then I will follow a month later (I have to give my current apartment complex 30 days notice.) If you are still reading, thank you. I know it’s long. Anything that anyone can do to help, particularly towards paying the balance on the U Haul boxes, is appreciated. As things go forwards, I’ll be stopping back here with updates. Be advised I work during the daytimes, so my posts here will mostly take place evenings and weekends. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for any assistance. We really do appreciate it. Thanks Jen 8) [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2023/10/25/2200051/-Just-need-a-bit-of-help-please?pm_campaign=front_page&pm_source=trending&pm_medium=web Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/