My Friend, Bernie Schwenck

How do you summarize a friendship of over fifty years? I have been wrestling with this for a couple of weeks. I still can’t figure it out, so I’ll start at the beginning.

We met Bernie when my mother-in-love bribed us to attending church with her. We had stopped going to church several years before. We had lived out of the state, and when we returned, our previous church was gone.

In the interim, Larry’s folks had purchased a mobile home in Dana Point. When we came back to California, we began to spend all our weekends there with them.

Mother’s birthday was May 6. A week or so before, she announced, ”All I want for my birthday and Mother’s Day is for my family to go to church with me.” So, we went.

That first week, we discovered that the pastor was a surfer. It was enough to get Larry to go back. The next time we went, the pastor’s wife greeted us by name! I later discovered she’d had the ability to really see and remember people from the time she was young. She never forgot a name. This was Bernie.

She was far from the stereotypical pastor’s wife. She didn’t play the piano or teach Sunday school classes. She sang in the choir, participated in Bible studies, and took part in women’s activities. She attended all the women’s retreats and contributed wisdom to all of them.

Schwenck family 1972

She didn’t look like a stereotypical pastor’s wife, either. Her long hair hung to her waist. She wore short skirts and knee boots—or whatever was comfortable. Since this was a “beach church,” people accepted her as she was, and she did the same. She always seemed to see the best in people.

The door to their house was never locked. Their friends and their children’s friends knew they could walk in at any time—and they did. Bernie’s only request was that if folks showed up and she was busy, they could either talk to her while she continued or they could help. And if she was watching a sporting event, guests were expected to join her. (They could cheer for the opposition, but she would cheer louder for UCLA or the Dodgers. And she would yell at the referees if she thought they made a bad call.)

Bernie had worked as a PE teacher and coached the cheerleading squad in New Jersey while Bob was attending Princeton Seminary. She had a real passion for sports, having been a cheerleader in high school and college. She never missed a game or sporting event for either of her children or her grandchildren.

Larry and Bob and our friend Diana Gardner (nicknamed “Gidget”) formed the Community Presbyterian Surf Team. They had great times surfing together, and Bob became Larry’s best friend.

After the Schwencks’ first trip to Hawaii, they became as hooked on the islands as we were. By this time, we had gone quite a few times and had visited all the islands (except Niihau). The four of us began to vacation together. In time, we traveled all over the world, and we always enjoyed spending time together.

We usually followed the same pattern. We would start planning a trip several months in advance when we discussed the details. Since I am somewhat of a control freak (an understatement), I usually made the arrangements for flights and hotels, etc. (unless they had miles or credit they could use to book their own). In our first meeting, however, each of us chose one thing to do on the upcoming trip. I usually selected something adventurous, like taking the helicopter flight over Kauai or visiting the leper colony on Molokai. Larry’s choice always involved surfing. Bob usually picked something fun, like bike riding down Mt. Haleakala on Maui. Bernie, however, always wanted to do the same thing: paddling the outriggers on Waikiki. She said, “This is the only place on earth where you can do this.” And she loved it.

Bernie 3rd from left

We all liked “funky” places to stay, and we always tried to save money. However, we found some incredible places where we returned on future trips. Fortunately, we had quite a few friends who lived in the islands, so when we were there, we tried to visit them. I have terrific memories of special adventures with dear friends.

Bernie always went along with whatever craziness I planned. She’d say, “I just want to go along and have fun.” The only other thing she wanted to do in Hawaii was spend time sunning on the beach. Because I am far too fair to spend much time in the sun, I either went shopping, or swam laps in the hotel pool, or read a book.

On one memorable trip in 1990, we were joined by our friends Don and Karen Seapy. Don always said it was his very favorite vacation. The highlight was the glider flight over Dillingham Airfield.

l-r: Larry, Bob, Bernie, Don, Lorna, Karen

When Bob did an exchange pulpit in Scotland, we stayed with him and Bernie and spent several days with them before we visited with my family and did a bit of sightseeing. When he did the same thing in New Zealand, we went to visit before exploring the country on our own. In both places, we met lovely people from his guest congregations, some of whom we are still in touch with.

We also traveled to places in the US together, and many of those trips resulted in great memories—like the Rainbow Motel, the very worst place we ever stayed. (Bob picked it.) Even the not-so-great experiences became shared legends and the sources of much laughter.

We visited Italy, Ireland, Australia, France, and other spots in the world with them. We never failed to enjoy our travels.

Through the years, Bernie and I cried together and laughed together and shared lots of love. We lost friends and loved ones and grieved together. We comforted each other and knew we could count on each other.

But, who do I count on now?

Bernie passed away on May 23 after a battle with Parkinson’s and a couple of strokes. It’s hard to believe that her vibrant spirit and contagious laugh and smile won’t be there for us anymore. There are so many things I will miss: hugs, and wisdom, shared silences and shared laughs, moments when no words are necessary, and moments of understanding.

I visited with her each of the three days before she passed and was able to tell her it was okay to let go. I assured her that Larry and I would be there for Bob and her family, and they would be okay because she helped to make them the strong, loving people they are. I prayed with her and told her I loved her. I assured her that I was certain her daughter Erin would be waiting along with her mother and other friends and family. And I assured her God would greet her with: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” I truly believe this.

But my dear friend left a huge hole in my life and that of the others who loved her.

After she passed, I did what I do. I helped Bob write her obituary and then created her obituary website: bit.ly/459dNMl

I also spoke at her memorial service and created the video: https://youtu.be/cSJoF6a4nfM

But these small things just can’t begin to capture who she was and what she meant to me and to those who loved her. I shall miss her for the rest of my life.

My Friend, Luanna Rugh

 

I first met Luanna when she and her family started attending our church in the early ‘80s. She was very shy, and I didn’t get to know her very well at first.

Her husband, Len, was outgoing and friendly, and so was her daughter, Sandra. Lu’s parents also attended the church, and I got to know them, too. Her dad was sweet and quiet—a real gentleman. And her mom was creative. She made beautiful decorations from shells. I have a magnet on my refrigerator she made as well as an ornament on my Christmas tree.

Len was severely wounded in Vietnam, but I learned quickly enough not to call him “handicapped”! Even though he was missing a large part of his brain and was completely paralyzed on his left side, he believed he could do anything. And the longer I was around him, the more I believed it, too.

After a while, we got to know both of them better. I discovered that Lu had a wicked sense of humor. She might have been shy, but when she opened up, her true personality came forth—sometimes with a vengeance. It took several years, however, before she became comfortable enough around me to let it show. I discovered we both loved irreverence, and she always made me laugh.

From the time Len was wounded in 1969, her goal in life became to encourage him to be everything he could be. He was labeled “unretrainable.” She talked him into attending Saddleback College. He eventually graduated from Cal State Fullerton with a degree in Political Science, even though everyone said it was impossible.

Lu and Len loved to travel. After Sandra left home, they bought a 5^th wheel and drove all over the US—including Alaska. Lu did all the driving. They spent time in Hawaii, too, which they both loved. They often stayed in the military hotel in Honolulu and bought timeshares on Maui, which they shared with Sandra and her husband, Steve.

While attending Saddleback, Len began to write a book about his experience in Vietnam. He worked on it for twenty years before he felt it was completed. By this time, Larry and I had joined the same critique group he belonged to (Lagunita Writers). One of our members told Len the book wasn’t finished yet. He’d written all about his experiences in Vietnam, but he hadn’t explained how he had been able to learn to walk and talk and do all the amazing things he’d accomplished. So, after twenty years of working by himself, he invited Lu to help him tell the second part of his story.

When they finally finished, the book was over 1300 pages! His good friend, Larry, told him, “Len, you’ve written the complete book for your family, but now you have to cut it down enough so it will sell.”

Len understood. So, for the next two years, we met with them every Wednesday night, usually at our house. One of us took care of dinner, and then we spent a couple of hours working at the computer cutting the size of the book. We went through it three times, line-by-line, word-by-word, until it was at its final length of 440 pages.

It was published in 2009 as Promises Kept; How One Couple’s Love Survived Vietnam.

Although Lu had written half of the second part of the book, she still told everyone, “I was a biology major. I’m not a writer.” Promises Kept won the 2010 EPIC Award for Nonfiction. It has become hugely popular with veterans’ groups.

While they were working on their book, I started a project with three other friends. It was an anthology about four sisters with a common through-story. However, one of the participants had to drop out because of health issues. We could have made it about three sisters, but the overall outline was for four.

I mentioned it at one of our weekly meetings. The following week, we went down to see Lu and Len at Camp Pendleton where they were spending a week camping. She asked me about the project, and I explained it to her. She asked if she could take part. By the time we left that day, she had outlined her character and the story she wanted to tell.

She was the first one finished with her novella! And hers became my favorite story in the book. Snowflake Secrets was published in 2008, before Len & Lu’s book. From then on, I told her she could no longer say she wasn’t a writer!

This was the first of six anthologies, all set in our fictional town of Aspen Grove Colorado, and Luanna was part of all of them. Seasons of Love came next, followed by Directions of Love, An Aspen Grove Christmas, The Art of Love and …And a Silver Sixpence in Her Shoe. Snowflake Secrets was a 2009 finalist for the Edward Hoffer Award, finalist for the 2008 Dream Realm Award, and a 2009 EPPIE award. Directions of Love won the 2011 EPIC ebook Award for best anthology.

  

 

 

 

I must have finally convinced her that she WAS a writer because she eventually published two more stand-alone novels: Love From the Sea was published in 2016, and Up in Flames published in 2020.

     

 

One thing we shared  in common was a love for everything Disney. We had annual passes, and they got military passes each year. We went with them often. Each time we passed the wheelchair rental, we’d suggest Len rent one.  “Heck no. Those are for people who need them.” Despite his total paralysis, he had learned to walk with a full leg brace (hip to ankle) on his left leg. His left hand was in a sling. He balanced by carrying a cane in his right hand. He’d learned to swing the brace while balancing on his good leg. He couldn’t drive, but he took the bus everywhere. Most of the drivers in Orange County knew him. When we were eating with them in a restaurant, someone would approach and greet him—often a bus driver.

He took part in classes to train physical therapists on how to work with people with his level of paralysis. He called them his “physical torture” classes. But he was proud to have been able to help train others to help people like himself.

He also took part in The Vietnam Head Injury Study. Every few years, he flew back to Washington D.C. for a week of tests and interviews. In later years, Lu went with him. They never could explain how he was able to accomplish so much with as severe an injury as he had sustained. Of course, the real secret was Lu. She knew when to push and when to step back. He never wanted sympathy or help when he didn’t need it, and those of us who spent time with him learned this quickly.

For years, the four of us ate brunch together after church on Sundays. During his last couple of years, Len was in and out of the hospital and rehab. Covid made everything much worse as he was often in quarantine. Lu was at loose ends without him to care for.

He was moved to a nursing home at some distance from their home, and she drove to see him several times a week. After Len died in 2022, Luanna lost much of her interest in life, and we saw her fading. Her memory began to fail, and her zest for life ebbed.

Finally, Sandra moved her into a lovely assisted living facility. She did better there, but she eventually started falling and forgot to take her medications. After yet another stay in the hospital, she was in terrible shape. Once again, Covid quarantines kept us from visiting. When we finally saw her, I was shocked. She could barely communicate, and she looked terrible. I called Sandra about our concerns. She said she couldn’t get any information from the facility and was very frustrated since she lived in Minnesota and Lu was in California.

Shortly thereafter, she moved Lu back to a facility a few minutes from her home. I couldn’t believe the change the next time I spoke with Lu. She was back to her old self! The caregivers at her new place monitored her medications and kept a close eye on her. And she flourished.

She made friends, played Bingo, watched movies, and cheered for the Vikings.

She was terrific for nearly a year. But then, she developed a UTI and was hospitalized. When she finally was well enough to return to her facility, her mental state had reverted to where it was when she left California. And she refused to eat. Being a type-2 diabetic, this contributed greatly to her downhill slide. She was put on hospice for a few days and just seemed to fade away.

I am convinced she is now with her beloved Len, where she has longed to be ever since he died. And I’m sure she is making jokes and laughing. At least, that is how I will remember her.

WE SHARE A BIRTHDAY―AND MORE

 

Today my dear friend, Marilyn Meredith, shares everything we have in common.

Tomorrow, the 24^th of August, is Lorna’s birthday—and it is also mine. I’ve come to think of her as a close friend, almost as another daughter. We’ve known each other for a long, long time. The majority of time we’ve spent together has been at mystery conferences all over the country, for EPICon we’ve been to Virginia Beach, VA, Las Vegas, NV, Portland, OR two or three times, San Antonio TX three times, and New Orleans. [Possibly others.]

EPICon 2008 in Portland with Marilyn & Hap Meredith

My husband and I also spent a weekend with Lorna and her husband Larry in their beautiful home in Dana Point. While there, we did a book event with them at their church and one in their home to celebrate the launch of Larry and Lorna’s mystery novel.

The more often we’ve been together, the more similarities we’ve noted. We like many of the same things. Of course, we are also different in many ways, but when we’re together it’s like we’ve known each other forever.

For obvious reasons, we haven’t seen each other in person the last couple of years. However, we’ve spent a lot of time together through emails. Lorna convinced me to become self-published, though I knew I couldn’t do it myself. She offered to help—which meant she became my editor and did all the work of publishing my books on Amazon. Her husband, Larry, did the covers—even redesigning the ones for the Rocky Bluff P.D. series, and creating the last few of the Deputy Tempe Crabtree series including the latest, The Trash Harem. The cover is perfect for the story and fits in with the other covers.

The development of The Trash Harem didn’t come easily. Because of the pandemic, I couldn’t meet with my critique group, who have always been my first editors. I reached out to a librarian friend who’d once offered to look for typos in a manuscript. He did and found several errors. When I finally thought it was ready, after going through it several times, I sent it off to Lorna.

She’s a wonder. Not only did she find the usual kinds of errors, she also had questions about some of the plot threads. Changes needed to be made, and I was thankful for her input. More work was done, and another edit by Lorna. Finally, we had a manuscript ready to go.

Making the move to self-publishing was a big step, but also a positive one that wouldn’t have happened without the wonderful help of Lorna and Larry. I thank both of them with my whole heart.

ABOUT THE TRASH HAREM

Deputy Tempe Crabtree has retired from her job in Bear Creek when friends, who once lived in Bear Creek and attended Pastor Hutch’s church, ask her to visit them in Temecula. The husband, Jonathan, is a suspect in what might be a murder case. The retirement community includes many interesting characters, any of whom might have had a better motive than Jonathan. There is also a connection to Earle Stanley Gardner as well as the Pechanga Old Oak. What is a trash harem? You’ll have to read the book to find out.

The Trash Harem is available in ebook and paperback on Amazon.

Marilyn Meredith is the author of over 40 published books including the Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series, and writing as F. M. Meredith, the Rocky Bluff P.D. series. She’s a member of two chapters of Sisters in Crime and the Public Safety Writers Association.

Webpage: http://fictionforyou.com/

Blog: https://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.meredith

Yet Another Loss

 Marilyn the Crazy Italian is gone. Actually, she was Sicilian—and proud of it! Through her, I discovered that if Sicilians liked you, you became family. We became a part of her feisty, funny, loving Sicilian family, and we were blessed for it.

 Marilyn and Don Griffin were our neighbors. They had an only child, Donna. We had an only child, Kim. The girls were in the same class in school when Donna infected the whole class with chickenpox.

This is about how Marilyn looked when we first met.

When we met, Marilyn and I instantly bonded. I loved her irreverence and sense of humor. I think she liked my pragmatism. I was also a good audience and laughed at all her jokes. And she knew I loved her. We told each other the truth, and it mattered to both of us.

I loved her whole family: her crazy mother, Mary, her Auntie Dolly and Uncle Cliff (they were also neighbors), and Auntie Alice and Uncle Louie (she called him “Uncle Loulie”). We got to know all the cousins and enjoyed them as well. Over time, I also got to know her brother Sammy (Sal), too. He sold me a car once—one I adored.

 Kim and Donna were in the same Brownie troop, so we often saw each other at various meetings. When I took over the leadership, Marilyn became an assistant leader. This continued through several years of Girl Scouts.

 Larry and Don got along well. Both were the same age, very shy, and didn’t like large crowds. They sat at a distance together and observed. I remember one neighborhood Christmas party at our house. Everyone sat around the living room in a circle. Before long, Don and Larry had backed away to the far corner of the dining room where they could watch everything without engaging.

Our families began to spend time together at each other’s houses. About once a week, we ate dinner together and then played games. The guys’ favorite was The Ungame. I think they liked it because it wasn’t competitive. After a while, we abandoned the board and tokens and just answered questions. In this way, we all got to know each other very well.

 In 1980, Don fell at work. Because it happened on the job, his employer insisted he see their workman’s comp doctor. Early the next morning, we received a panicked phone call from Marilyn. Some of Don’s tests indicated something seriously wrong, and all the possibilities were fatal.

 Instead of leaving for work, we rushed to their house where we held each other and cried. Thus began several of the worst months of our lives. Don had leukemia, which at the time was an almost guaranteed death sentence. He underwent a bone marrow transplant at City of Hope, which appeared to be successful. However, as he was recovering, he had a brain aneurism and passed away. He was thirty-six years old.

Marilyn had a difficult time after Don died. Then, women couldn’t get a credit card in their own names. This motivated me to get a loan in my name only. I had to fight the bank to do it, but I got it—and paid it off in half the time.

Two years later, Marilyn married again, this time to Louis LaVella, who had two daughters. Family was always most important to her. She met her new husband through Parents Without Partners.

Unfortunately, Louis had severe heart problems. He died while on a transplant list, and again, Marilyn was alone.

Marilyn and Donna

Several years later, Marilyn reconnected with a former high school boyfriend, Fred Martin. Both were single, and their old spark rekindled. They were very happily married until Fred’s death in 2003.

Marilyn took Fred’s death very hard. She was at loose ends for several years. She finally joined a support group for widows and widowers. There she met Ray Bondeson. I remember when she called to invite us to their wedding. The big incentive for Larry was the red velvet cheesecake wedding cake!

Marilyn and I remained in touch through Facebook and occasional phone calls. We always talked about getting together, but we didn’t manage to do so. She called several weeks ago, and we spoke for about an hour, sharing memories of our mothers and families and our kids. She was very proud of all her kids and grandkids—including the step ones. She mentioned she was in the hospital, but for as long as I’d known her, she always had one or another physical issue. Hospitalization wasn’t unusual for her, and I didn’t think too much about it.

Her stepdaughter posted the news of her passing on Facebook. I am heartbroken to realize the phone will never ring again and I will never hear her smoky voice and hearty laugh at the other end.

Rest in peace, my friend. I’ll never forget you.

Saying Goodbye

Early this morning, I received the following message from my oldest and dearest friend’s husband: “After a month-long illness, Kathleen entered eternity early this morning at Huntington Hospital. 75 years 9 months.”

I was two-years old when we moved into our brand-new house in Alhambra, California. This was post-WWII housing, and nearly all the new owners were families with young children. Throughout our growing-up years, we never lacked for playmates!

Several of the kids on the block became my close friends, but over time, Kathleen Murphy became my very best friend. (She was always called Kathleen. She would not answer if you called her Kathy.) She was two years older, but it never made any difference. When I was ten, we became blood sisters. (We both had younger brothers and wanted to have a sister.)

My 16^th birthday

Her dad worked nights. We rarely played at her house for fear of waking him. So, she spent a lot of time at my house. My mother treated her like another daughter.

School was always difficult for Kathleen. She was dyslexic, and reading was a challenge. We went to college together and took a couple of the same classes. I took notes, and we would discuss the class material driving to and from school because we carpooled. She passed those classes and gave credit to our discussions (and my notes she borrowed the night before tests).

One of the greatest joys in my life was when she called me one day. Her husband had purchased our book, The Memory Keeper, and it had arrived in the mail. She decided to take a look at it. She called to tell me—in great detail—how much she enjoyed it. This was the very first book she had ever read for pleasure. She went on to read all of our books, and she enjoyed them. She asked for other recommendations, and I suggested she try my friend Marilyn Meredith’s mystery series. (She has written two.) Kathleen loved them and read every one. She went on to discover other writers she enjoyed, and recommended them to me. That first conversation with her made all the effort of writing worthwhile for me.

In high school, we ate lunch together every day and made many of the same friends.

My husband, Larry, started kindergarten with her. On their graduation day (two years before my own), she sat next to him, and he held her hand because she was so nervous.

When we were both in high school, we sat at the table in my house drinking tea with my mom. She often used her china tea set. We were talking about our dreams for our future. Mine was simple: marry Larry Collins, whom I was dating at the time. Kathleen described a family of several children, the large, elegant house she would live in, and all the expensive things she’d have. When she left, Mom said, “I hope she marries someone rich.”

She met Bill Stewart when they were both in the wedding party for mutual friends. The next day, she waxed poetic about this guy. I’d never seen her so excited about any previous boyfriend. She married Bill in June of 1966, nine months after Larry and I. She was my maid-of-honor, and I was her matron-of-honor.

Our wedding, September 4, 1965

We were both stay-at-home moms for a number of years. We got together for lunch every month or so at one or the other of our homes. We lived away from California for a couple of years, but we stayed in touch. She and Bill even came to visit us in Illinois—and stayed at the motel next door. We later discovered it belonged to Al Capone’s brother and was being used for gambling and prostitution. They never visited us away from California again!

One day, she invited my mom and me to visit at her new home in San Gabriel. When we arrived, she showed us around the house. As we sat in her lovely and elegant living room, Mom reminded her about our long-ago conversation. “Well, it looks like all your dreams have come true.” Mom was happy for her.

She adored the house in San Gabriel. She loved her neighbors and the boys’ school. She also loved her job at the school. She lived for her kids and their friends.

Bill wanted to move to San Marino, a more prestigious neighborhood. Each time he raised the issue, she came up with some reason they couldn’t sell—yet. I remember some of them.

Early on, she insisted they had to remodel their kitchen. “Remember, dear, kitchens sell houses.” They were torn up for months during the remodel. Then, when it was finished, she had another reason they couldn’t move. “We’ve spent so much time and money on this remodel, we deserve to enjoy it awhile.” So, they stayed.

Over the years, she remodeled the playroom, billiard room, other areas, and, finally the pool house to add a second story. She also insisted they couldn’t move until the boys had graduated from high school. “Dear, we don’t want to make them change schools and take them away from their friends. Don’t you agree?” And Bill agreed.

Finally, he wanted to move to a huge new house in Altadena, and she gave up the battle. She loved the new house—especially her garden. She won several awards for her gorgeous property.

In later years, she developed COPD and diabetes. They took a toll on her health. She became unable to walk and got around on a motorized scooter. One of the highlights of our fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration was when she arrived. Bill had made the effort to get her—and her scooter—all the way from Altadena to Dana Point for the party.

Our 50^th anniversary party with Bill & Kathleen

Not long afterward, she had surgery to put artificial blood vessels in her legs from her groin to her feet to try to improve her circulation and prevent their amputation. (Who knew this was even possible?) It was a grueling surgery, and the recovery was arduous.

Larry and I went to see her in the hospital once she could have visitors. I had a small flower arrangement made using one of my mother’s precious teacups—the same ones we had dunk from growing up.

Mom’s Teacup

When we arrived, she was at her lowest point. She insisted she wanted to stop all treatment and give up. I didn’t argue with her. It was her life, after all. But I asked if we could pray with her. Larry and she and I held hands as I told God I wasn’t happy about her choice, but asked for wisdom on the part of her doctors and peace for her.

As we left—both of us in tears—Larry commented on how strong her grip had been.

I told Bill about our conversation, and the next day he let me know her attitude had turned around.

Two weeks ago, when I spoke with her in the hospital, I reminded her of our conversation and about how much she would have missed. In the interim, her younger son, Paul, and his wife became the parents of Maxine, named after Kathleen’s mother. This little girl looks like her grandma, and has a similar personality. Stubbornness is a common trait.

Kathleen and Maxine about a year ago

In addition to her other two grandchildren, Dylan and Meghan, Maxine was the center of her life. (She wanted Mom’s teacup to go to Maxine. I have promised her that when we can get together, we will have a tea party at my house, and I’ll tell her all about her grandmother.)

Family always came first. She lived for her boys and their friends and their families.

She remained a faithful friend throughout the years, and I shall miss her greatly. But mostly, I am grateful to have had her in my life.