Rose By Any Other Name

My recent travels around the state for business took me by a pet cemetery which reminded me of a story ---

When I did time as a teenager working fast food I met a woman named Rose. Rose was a short, plump elderly lady who may have been as old as 70 and worked "specialty boards" which entailed their "non-hamburger" sandwiches. A widow, she drove a big, clunky, old, dirty yellow station wagon full of knick knacks and newspapers. She claimed the newspapers were due to the fact that she was studying the Jai Alai trends. I was sort of into Jai Alai at the time so we talked frequently about it, but she never actually went. Never.

It was unclear to me whether she worked out of necessity or boredom but I imagine it was a bit of both. Through her perpetually fingerprinted glasses she would tell tales of how great a man her late husband was and about her two dogs; one living, one recently deceased.

A cool thing about Rose was that every day she brought me cupcakes or Charleston Chews or Chocodiles or Snowballs or other crap foods that kids love.. It occurred to me at the time that she probably couldn't afford it but it made her happy and I got some free junk food for being nice to her. She always sought me out at the beginning of each shift with a cheerful "hello" and gave me my treat. As a consequence, I became protective of her when other employees would tease her or disparage her on the side. Although, everyone liked her.

This was a time, the early '80's, when most fast food staff were regular kids working to make a buck, so an elderly woman working there really stood out. I'm not sure it would be so today. It seems now, at least up here, its more older people and parents, many of whom from outside our country, trying to get by by making a living at it. I was merely trying to earn a few bucks for the movies, beer, gas and sometimes save money for college. I can't imagine trying to get by on fast food wages today.

One day, Rose asked me for a favor. Well, actually, she offered to pay me $10 to drive her out to her late dog's grave. The kennel/cemetery was about 15 miles out on back roads and I think Rose either was uncomfortable driving there or didn't trust her car or was bad with directions or just wanted company.

I thought about declining the request or at the very least, the payment, but I didn't. I agreed to take her for what amounted to more than three hours pay.

The trip entailed more conversation about her late husband, who was deceased for years and years and talk of her late dog, Blackie. Much of which I had already heard before. Today it is so painfully obvious how terribly lonely this poor woman must have been. I'm not sure I saw it so clearly at seventeen though.

The grave was beautiful. Set in a town of affluence, it no doubt is an indulgence for the better off as they bury and visit their lost pets. The area was and is complete with professional landscaping and smallish black marble headstones. I can only imagine it must have cost way beyond Rose's means but then this dog was obviously something special.

Rose cried. Standing at the tasteful grave, still in her Burger King uniform, she explained to me with a choked voice. how great a dog Blackie yet again and how much I would have liked him.

I stood there. Uncomfortable. Waiting for it to be over.

I remember the drive back we listened to some Elton John on the tape player. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word merely elicited more tears from Rose yet she remarked what a beautiful song it was. When we got back to the restaurant she tried to pay me $15, but I would only take $10. I guess she wanted to tip me but a deal is a deal I said. I might even have had a tinge of guilt for accepting the money but I took it.

The next day I relayed the story to my best friend at work. Of course, he knew Rose. I told him about Rose crying at the grave.

His response? "Did you embrace?" Funny guy.

I DID think of hugging her or putting a hand on her shoulder while she knelt and tidied up at the grave . But I didn't. I wonder what I'd do if it were today.

Rose stayed and worked at the restaurant for many years after I left. I'd see her from time to time as a customer and chat for a minute or two. Then it all faded away. Of course, I'm sure she's long gone now. I don't remember her talking much about family or children or anything along those lines. I really hope she didn't pass away as lonely as she appeared.