Article #400 – Remembrances

A Love Story of Joe and Gertie Burdoo – My Parents

So, I just realized this article, when published, will be #400 for this website. Therefore, I feel it must be different from my normal articles about good gifts for the elderly. Instead, this article shall be a series of memories of my parents and my life.

For those unaware, I started this website at my Mom’s suggestion while I was caring for her back in 2007.

There were many things I was unprepared for when Mom first came to live with me after Dad died. After all, I chose to have no children and had only been successful in keeping pets alive at this point.

What did I know about caring for a 91 year old woman?

Absolutely NOTHING.

I had NO idea the amount of effort and love it takes to help an elderly adjust to new beginnings and, well, final endings.

It does, in fact, take a village. My friends were instrumental in keeping mom and me upright. They spelled me for times when I had to get away and rejuvenate. They brought us food and laughter. They shared many happy hours with mom, me, and finally, John whom I met in 2007.

So, as Mom and I identified items that would help us in her daily needs, she would say ‘Put this up there!’ (‘up there’ was the internet to her!). So I started writing, and writing, and writing. And here we are today, with article #400.

So, let’s start the trip down memory row. Come along with me and read about some of my favorite memories and thoughts about the wonderful people who raised me. The people I loved with all my heart. My Mom and Dad.

Memories of Mom and Dad

Mom grew up in St. Joseph, MO. She frequently claimed she was there at the birth of the pony express (not quite. She was born in 1916).

1216 Sylvanie Street, St. Joe, MO was Mom’s childhood home. It was also part of the underground railroad which took in slaves trying to escape the south.

Mom told me of the hobo signs they would draw on the pavement in front of the house – a chalk drawing of a cup meant you could come in for coffee. A child’s drawing of a sandwich meant there was a warm greeting along with a hot meal inside.

One of my husband John’s favorite memories of Mom was she telling him about the still that my Zaidie (grandfather in yiddish) built underneath a hidden doorway in the living room. He made his own moonshine during prohibition!

Mom’s start in life was a gentle, if poor, one. My grandparents didn’t have much, but, just as my brother and I have been taught, ’tis better to give than to take.

Dad was born in 1916 and grew up in Kansas City, MO – 60 miles from St. Joe. Back then, 60 miles was a journey across dirt paths. He also grew up in a very poor family, but, back then, almost everyone was poor.

Mom told me once that the depression in 2008 was the worst she’d ever seen. Now, Mom lived through the Great Depression in the 30s so this surprised me. The difference, she said, was that, going into the Great Depression, they had nothing – they came out of it with the exact same economic status.

In the depression of 2008, people who had established a wealthier lifestyle were knocked down far further than my Mom and Dad ever were. They came out of that depression much poorer. Some have never recovered.

The Start Of The Story – Their Meeting

How did my folks meet? Dad and Mom’s brother, Uncle Al, were in a fraternity of sorts. They were having a picnic one weekend, complete with hayride.

Dad didn’t have a date, and Uncle Al offered up his dear sister, Gertie.

Dad’s first question to Uncle Al was ‘Is she cute?’

Uncle Al’s response is one of the best in history. ‘Hell NO she’s not cute but you’ll have a hell of a time with her!’

So, they met and went on a hayride – and dated. 5 full years they dated and she waited. And waited. And waited.

When their courting period was getting long, Mom had the opportunity to go to Seattle, WA where her older sister, Aunt Rose, had settled. They were in a nice Jewish community, and Mom would surely find someone there.

So, Mom basically gave Dad the old ‘sh@t or get off the pot’ speech (that might have been the exact words although I’m uncertain). She told him that she was going to go to Seattle the following week to live.

Dad drove from Kansas City to St. Joe that night to ask her to marry him. And she did. For better or worse, for richer and for poorer, they were both all in. After all, neither of them could get much poorer. They were both raised (and survived) the depression.

For 65.5 years, they had one of the strongest, most loving relationships I’ve had the honor of witnessing.

The Beginning Of Their Legacy – Town Hall Liquors, College Park, MD

In late 1958, they bought a bar, Town Hall, right outside the University of Maryland in College Park, MD. They ran that bar from 7 am until 2 am, taking shifts between themselves. They were a dynamic duo before the term was, well, termed.

They held that bar from 1958, when I was born, until 2012 when Mom died, and it sold to one of my brothers.

That bar, Town Hall, provided us with a privileged upbringing that I’ve never forgotten, including an introduction to crabbing, fishing, and general water sports aboard their various boats. It put two of us through college and gave us an appreciation for hard work.

And, now, our own boat carries that name – ‘Town Hall.’ It is in honor of my parents and in honor of John who named it. Those words, Town Hall, meant so much all my life and means even more every time I step aboard and see the picture of them that John hung in the salon.

 

My parents taught me lessons about how to treat others fairly, no matter what their background or financial status, religion, or political views were. They taught us to donate, to give back to the community for others less fortunate.

Dad was Mr. Joe to most of his customers, Mom was Miss Gert. And those customers loved them as much as they loved their customers. Dad would frequently hand a beer to a local who might not have had the fifty cents in his pocket. My parents were amazing people.

I was with them one Thanksgiving in Phoenix when Dad read in the morning paper that the local food bank had been robbed the previous evening. They lost all of their money collected over the week; money slated for food.

Dad looked at Mom, they both looked at me and I knew I was about to chauffeur them to the food bank with a check to replace the whole total. That’s who my parents were.

On Gambling And Such

Dad and Mom both loved to gamble and I picked up that same love. I’ve been a gambler all my life.

I drove Mom and Dad to Laughlin, Nevada, their gambling mecca of choice 6 times that last year Dad was alive. I wanted to go to Vegas, a short 60 minutes up the road as Laughlin was small back then and there wasn’t a lot of live entertainment.

As I was pleading for Vegas, I finally asked Dad why they liked Laughlin so much. He laughed and said:

In Laughlin, I’m a big fish in a small pond. In Vegas, I’m a small fish in a big pond.

I understood this better that same evening when Don Laughlin came over and said ‘Hi, Joe! Nice to see you again.’

This same trip, we were at a casino in Laughlin and there were few seats at the Black Jack tables. Two seats opened up but they weren’t together. The folks climbed aboard anyway. Mom was sitting between two gentlemen who I figured were partners. She was quite cozy and immediately started cracking everyone up.

I left to play craps way across the casino. And then it happened. I heard my Mom’s contagious laugh all the way across the room. I went to see what was happening over there.

One of the gentlemen was getting up right as I approached. He touched my arm and asked me if I knew how fortunate I was, how wonderful my parents were. I told him ‘You betcha!’ Nothing got past me!

Speaking of playing craps….

After Dad died, I took Mom to Atlantic City with our accountant, Marlan and his son Craig. As we entered the casino, Marlan and Craig went to find a craps table while I wheeled Mom to the Black Jack table. After sitting next to her (and losing as she won), I told her I’d be right behind her at the craps table. She was fine with that.

Well, the craps table started to heat up and about 40 minutes later (and with a fistful of cash), I turned to get Mom.

She wasn’t there! She and her wheelchair were nowhere to be found.

I ran to the dealer and asked if he had seen a little white haired lady at the table.

Imagine my surprise when he said ‘Yeah, security has her.’

OMG! I was shocked. Security had my darling little itty bitty mama?

My response was a loud, very incredulous ‘WHAT DID SHE DO???’

He laughed and said she wanted to go up to the room and nap and didn’t want to disturb me. So, they called security to wheel her to her room.

As I was running toward an elevator, a security gentleman got out and must have seen my panic. He stopped me and asked if I was looking for my mother. He had just put her in the room. I almost died.

Mom and Dad always had people recognize them. I remember being in my early teens when we checked into a hotel at the Grand Canyon. The next morning, a car from Maryland was parked next to us and was leaving as we were. The guy looked over at Dad and said ‘Hey, JOE!’ The man was a customer from Town Hall!

My Dad’s cherished sister, my wonderful Aunt Gertie, was ill in Florida when I was about 16. I had just gotten my driver’s license when, late one night, Dad woke me to tell me we had to drive to FL as she was in the hospital. There was absolutely NOTHING that could keep my Dad from caring for his sisters, both of them. He was always their guardian although he was the youngest in the family.

Anyway, as we were cresting a hill in Georgia at 100 mph with Dad intent on getting there, we got pulled over by a cop. I was relieved as I figured Dad would kill us both.

After the cop took Dad’s license to his car to look it up, the cop approached the car again and handed Dad his license. He asked if he was the Joe Burdoo who owned Town Hall in College Park. To my utter amazement, the cop handed Dad not a ticket, not a warning, but a warm ‘Joe! I used to go to MD and remember you from the bar. Drive safe.’ I’m sure my mouth dropped open.

Regardless, we were off again and, once we crested that hill? We were back up and running at 100!

My folks lived with me during the summers when the heat of Pheonix would drive them back to Maryland. They had a beautiful room with a balcony, all the dog kisses they wanted, and adoration from me.

I called them my ‘twins’ as they were always together. Dad was Twin A, Mom was Twin B. They were connected, always. They would eat half a sandwich each and share a coke.

I would wake Dad up at 5:30 am to give him his Parkinson’s medication so he could function at 7. Every single time I touched him gently on the shoulder, those blue eyes would open and he looked like a beautiful, balding baby. I’d sit him up and hand him his meds. He’s down them, lay back down and always thank me and, boom, he’d be back asleep.

My parents thanks me every single night for their day….regardless of what we did, or didn’t do.

We took a family cruise for the folks 60th anniversary. The cruise left out of Baltimore, our home port. We went to dinner that night and, sitting at the same table with us, was a past bartender from….you guessed it….Town Hall! The whole cruise was filled with people waiting to get on the black jack tables and talk to my folks. What a blast that was.

There’s so many wonderful, wonderful memories I have of my parents. I was so privileged to be able to care for my mother in my own house after Dad died. I promised Dad that I would care for her as best I could for as long as I could until safety was an issue – it never was.

She died in my arms, surrounded by family she loved best, friends she cherished, and a few dogs who missed her for a good long while.

She and Dad both gave me advice for after they were gone and I took it, and acted upon it all.

Mom told me who to keep in my life and who to let go. The biggest compliment my mother ever gave me (and there were plenty) was not to let John go. He reminded her very strongly of Dad, as he did to me also.

And I didn’t. I took her advice and married this wonderful man June 20, 2016 (our original wedding date was June 15, 2016 – what would have been my parent’s 75th anniversary, but that’s another story!).

She told me secrets late at night that I’ve never divulged, just as I told her mine. Dad told me what to expect and he was right on. He read the future and prepared me for it.

In the end, Mom died a peaceful death, surviving the death of her loving husband 5 years previous. Those last 5 years were a time for me to learn, to listen, to understand and to grow. She showed me how to survive life without her. And I have. But, my Twins are never far from my heart – nor will they ever be.