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Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

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My old neighbors were two elderly sisters. Mae and Ida Reilly were in their 80's when my friend Buzz and I rented the apartment next door. Somewhat infirm of body they generally kept to themselves, and being true to form for elderly ladies the world over, they NEVER asked for help. Buzz and I used to wander over every couple weeks to see if we could do anything.

"No sir, Stuart - everythings just fine... except the weather - can't do anything about the weather can you?" Mae always disarmed me by addressing me as sir. But Mae was not a formal person. "Isn't he the cutest thing", she'd continue while smiling down at their Jack Russell Terrier that was viciously attacking my ankle. We never worried about the Reilly's security - that Jack Russell could fend off anything. He made his way through my socks and into my ankle bone on several occasions. I remember thinking it was probably a good thing they didn't call us over too often.

But every now and then, obstacles would come up that did require help. The first such request to come down the pipe was a light bulb change in a fixture that Mae couldn't reach with her ladder. 85 year olds shouldn't even own ladders, but you couldn't convince Mae of that. Thankfully she knew which step was one too many. Buzz headed over to perform the task, and didn't show back up for a couple of hours. When he finally did arrive, he had a smile on his face and a very, very old looking bottle of Scotch Whiskey in his hand.

"What took you so long?", I asked.

"Well, I changed the bulb in about 2 minutes", Buzz replied, "But then the Reilly sisters felt like they owed me some cookies and a story, so we all sat down and they told me several. One of them had to do with their father, who they mentioned was a connoisseur of very old Scotch. The next thing I know we're in the basement looking at his collection - one that apparently ended when he died in the 1940's...."

"You're not saying that..."

"Yup. Its all still down there - the girls don't touch the stuff." He handed me the bottle, and I beheld the old tan label with large block letters. "Black and White" it said, "Product of Scotland - By Appointment to Her Majesty The Queen." On the back were two Scottish Terriers one white - one black. Beneath them were the words, "Distilled and Bottled in Scotland Under British Government Supervision." I guess the Brits didn't fancy the Scots reliable enough to produce Scotch in the Queens name on their own. Being of Scottish Presbyterian descent, I was somewhat offended, but nevertheless intrigued at what might await inside.

"I don't know that anyones ever been paid quite like you have for changing a light bulb", I said sarcastically.

"I tried to say no... several times", Buzz contended. I believed him. Knowing Mae and Ida they were more than adamant he take it.

We uncorked the small bottle. (You don't find many corks in Scotch bottles these days.) Two quick sips confirmed our suspicions. He'd been given a treasure. Over the next 3 years we only partook of its contents on special occasions. Small drams on Birthdays, New Years and Christmas Eve. When it finally ran out, we put the bottle on the mantle above our fireplace. For a couple of young bachelors it was irreplaceable.

I think we had a ceremony. Buzz may have cried. I don't remember.

But the real treasure of visits with the Reillys didn't come from their basement or even their father's old cache. The real treasure were their stories. Little ones about "Mae's first date" and "Ida's adventures at nursing school", and especially the over-arching story that was their lives. The Reilly sisters grew up in the 1920's and endured World War II while in their early 30's. Ida was a nurse fairly close to the front lines somewhere in Europe. Mae was a shipyard worker in Newport News.

Ida was quiet and sweet - overweight in the later part of her life as a result of two bad knees that she would have had replaced if the technology had been available. But as it was, she endured the pain and inconvenience of her disability with quiet persistence and grace. She gave her smile freely and was ever the optimist. She was one of the few people that could make her sister laugh.

Mae was thin and wiry and as feisty as her scrappy little dog, and looking at her determined face and worn skin, it was easy to imagine her as the quintessential "Rosie the Riveter." She showed me pictures of herself standing with several other ladies in front of one of the many "Liberty Ships" they helped to assemble along the steaming docks of Hampton Roads. Mae was vibrant and healthy looking in the photo, with a bandanna around her hair and a broad smile on her face. It was a distant likeness, but the connection could be made easily enough to the face that glowed so brightly when she brought out those old pictures.

The stories they told were of good times pulling together with family and friends and of bad times pulling together with family and friends - of simple events and moments that changed a life here or there, and / or taught them what it was all about. Listening to them reflect on their lives taught me no small amount of wisdom either :

- The best things in life are simple and plain and not likely the things you dreamed of as a teenager.

- The most meaningful moments come almost entirely unexpected and in ways that no Hollywood screenwriter could ever conceive.

- God has his plan - even if he isn't always willing or able to share it. Trust him.

The very best stories? The largely untold stories like Mae and Ida's - the ones you and I will likely never hear... of men and women who give of themselves through small acts of kindness and support to those that cross their paths. Folks who know what being a human being in the best sense is all about. Such individuals might not get a chapter written about them in the "World Book" or next years edition of "Encarta", but they do provide the very best verses in the ongoing books of Hope and Faith and Love that makes up the whole of God's great library.

In the end, they're the only ones that matter.