aunt pammie - great neighbor and dear friend

i was 29 years old when i met pammie in 2005.  i had just bought my first condo, #505 in north brook II, and her door, #501, was only 10 steps away. i had lived in the northern virginia suburbs for past 5 years, where neighborliness meant being polite - a wave and a head-nod on the way to the car.  i expected no different in DC.   fortunately, i had moved into a very special place. 

on my first night in northbrook II, there was a welcome note at my door accompanied by a bottle of "good, not great" wine.  i introduced myself the next day to the charming lady next door who knew everyone and immediately felt welcomed.  the transformation from condo to home had begun.  over the next 5 years, a steady stream of gifts were left at doorsteps and, at some point, she went from a neighbor to a friend to part of our family, our "aunt pammie".

though i think she liked me initially, she definitely hit it off with luke, my orange tabby. luke, like all her cats, could do no wrong ... even when he most certainly did wrong: like eat her plants or scratch her furniture.  her apartment was the playground and hotel for many cats in the building.  as such, she kept cat toys and food dishes in her apartment.  once, the cable man came to fix her TV.  seeing the cat paraphenalia, he said "i'd better shut the door so the cat doesn't get out."  without thinking, pammie said "oh, that's okay, i don't have a cat." we laughed imagining the thoughts running through his head. she joked that it would be the last time that particular comcast repairman paid her a visit. 

when i'd open my door, luke would make a bee-line for pammie's dooralbacore there was abundant albacore tuna, toys, and a dearth of rules.  note that i was eating the standard-grade tuna at the time but pammie saw to it that my cat was eating the good stuff.  when i went away for the holidays, luke would stay w/ his aunt pammie, provided there was "vacancy." if not, she would dote on him in my apt, leaving eloquent notes detailing his wonderful behavior.

pammie was the best neighbor.  she had keys for most condos on the 5th floor, including mine, which was great because i locked myself out on a bi-weekly basis. she always smiled when she gave my keys, except at 7am, when she'd just crack the door and stick the keys out (clearly i had woken her up).  she was fluent in a number of languages, including spanish. she always let the cleaning lady, evelyn, in to my place while i was at work and would often call me the day before to remind me evelyn was coming.  once, when luke was confined to the bathroom for a prolonged stretch for potty training, pammie tried to explain the situation to evelyn. unfortunately, pammie succeeded in explaining that matt (me) was locked in the bathroom for a few weeks.  he is not to be let out, no matter how much he cries and screams.  one imagines the look of confusion on poor evelyn's face before pammie set the record straight.

inter-apartment commerce flourished between #501 and #505.  we established a 2 person cupcake club. whenever one of us went to the grocery, we'd split a 6 pack of mini chocolate cupcakes (she preferred giant to harris teeter bc of the icing).   sundays meant $5 rotisserie chickens from harris teeter, which we'd usually split.  winter colds meant the sick person got fresh-squeezed orange juice.  pammie gave us an electric juicer for christmas 2010 and said she expected a hefty return on investment.  

her favorite was the pumpkin crunch cake that my wife, cath, made every thanksgiving.  each year, cath made one for our family and one for aunt pammie, who said her sweet tooth would  wake her in the middle of the night to satisfy the crunch-cake cravings.  

we shared a love of the Marine Corps as our fathers were both leathernecks.  Her father authored a field manual that my brother, Major William Fenwick, a helicopter pilot in the Marines, used in his training.  When the HBO mini-series, "the Pacific", about the Marine battles in WWII, aired, she came over every sunday for 10 weeks to watch.  cath would make dinner, pammie,  despite our objections, would bring dessert.  over dinner, pammie would fill us in on the background of each episode, displaying her vast knowledge of history and wonderful story telling.  fiercely loyal, she had harsh words for the US Navy after they left the Marines stranded on Guadalcanal and, of course, for the enemy combatants.

last summer, she came with the Fenwick family to the Marines barracks at 8th and I to watch the Sunset Parade.  she loved the pomp and circumstance, being around the young Marines and watching the show. my mom noted tears in her eyes during the ceremony.

despite our the differences and political ideologies, she was my good friend and, when i did catch her esoteric references, we laughed often. "ahoy!" was our greeting when we called the other.  she was #7 and #8, house and cell, on my speed dial, so often did we talk.

cath and i have been touring europe since june and, largely at pammie's urging, we'll head to africa in november.  she begged us to see the serengetti while it still existed as it had made a profound impact on her during her stay in tanzania.  

and we feel her now with us now on our trip.  in berlin, we stayed with a northbrook friend, elizabeth. it was pammie, of course, introduced us and subtlely pointed out all the things we had in common.   we think of pammie when we see the all the stray cats in greece (she would try to feed them all) and the moonflowers on the roadside, which she gave us every summer.  we loved her very much and can't imagine northbrook w/out her.  
 
- matthew fenwick, friend and neighbor

Head of the Northbrook Family

Northbrook II is a special place to live. You feel part of a family that takes care of each other. Pammie was the head of our Northbrook family who could always be counted on to have a spare key to your place, sign for packages, come over for dinner and rave about the food, have a witty story to share. She had a contagious spirit about her that shone threw and drew people in. 

She took care of everyone, and was especially good to my husband, Matt, and I who lived across the hall from her (Matt for over 6 years, and I for the past 3). No less than once a week we'd find a treat from Pammie at our front door. It was always something sweet - usually cupcakes, bakery goods or, my favorite, meringue cookies. Pammie made the best meringue cookies. I'll never eat another one without thinking of her. Freshly-squeezed orange juice was another specialty of hers and would always appear if either of us was feeling a bit under the weather. She even gifted us an electric orange juice maker in case we needed some when she wasn't around. And also so we could make her some. :) One of the most unexpected and special things she did for us was just after our wedding. We came home the day after to find the 5th floor hallway absolutely enchanting. Pammie had arranged for over 100 white helium balloons to be floating in the hallway! It was magical to walk into and we were incredibly touched.

Pammie was so kind and thoughtful - it's hard to pick from among the hundreds of gestures she made and ways she took care of us over the years. These few examples don't do justice to the extent of the care and love she showed us. She was the best neighbor anyone could dream of - she was part of our family. Pammie was so good to us, so good to many living in Northbrook. She has left a tremendous impact on us and will be sorely missed. Our life is better for having had her in it for at least a little while.

- Cathy Fenwick, friend and neighbor

Pammie made me feel welcome

I was new to DC and a holiday orphan when Sue Decker invited me to join a group of friends for a winter solstice feast. When I arrived, she ushered me into Pammie's apartment, reminding me to leave the door open, like hers across the hall, so the cats could travel back and forth.

Pammie greeted me with a strong handshake and lost no time in making me feel that I was welcome and that this was exactly the right place for me to be. She was filled with energy and I could tell immediately that this was a woman with stories galore. I had so much fun. We sat at her long table into the wee hours, sharing fabulous food and much laughter.

She was an amazing person with phenomenal spirit who created so much good around her. I feel privileged and lucky to have met her.

Wonderful winter solstice memories

I had heard tell of Pammie for several years before I had the pleasure of meeting her at a winter solstice dinner she and Sue held in December 2008. I came expecting good food (Sue was cooking) and fascinating tales of international travel. The evening brought me all that and more. Pammie was welcoming and entertaining and she made me feel like both an old friend and an honored guest. I was delighted when Pammie and Sue repeated the event the following year. Last year I started looking forward to it in October. This year when I met up with little Noah at John's book-manuscript-submitting party, we talked about seeing each other again at Pammie's for the winter solstice. Well, truthfully, Noah may have only had strawberries on his mind, but I got happy just thinking about the winter solstice dinner. It didn't take a lot of time for Pammie to touch my life, just a few delightful evenings.

Pammie and the Boys (and Mindy, too)

            I met Pammie shortly after moving into my apartment in 2001. It was the normal neighbor thing ``Hi, how are you'' when you ran into someone in the elevator. In August, I told her I was taking my mom and aunt to Ireland for vacation. Her first question was ``Can I watch your cats?'' I had made arrangements for a professional sitter to visit for one of the weeks I was gone, but she wasn't available the second week. A friend promised to check on them every day. There weren't enough keys for everyone, so I arranged for Pammie to get one set of keys that she would make duplicates to give to the friend. And so I went off on vacation.

            When I returned to New Jersey, where my aunt lived, I called the friend to tell her I would be driving down to Washington the next day and make arrangements to pick up the keys. She said she never picked up the keys. Throughout the four-hour drive, all I could think was that my cats had been left at the mercy of a stranger for a week, and there was a good chance I'd find them starving or even dead when I got home.

            Pammie was waiting for me. She explained that, since my cats' names were Tennyson and Montague, she was sure they'd like the Shakespeare or an Arthurian legend, but it turns out Tennyson preferred the tales of the Arabian nights. Monty, being Monty, liked anything. Not only had she been going in to feed them, she had gone in and read to the them so they wouldn't feel lonely being all by themselves in a relatively new home.

            The boys adored her. They would run up anytime she came into my place, and if my front door was left open they'd go running over to her place. They even managed to get along with Orlando, her cat, as long as it meant they could see Pammie. When Orlando died, they provided comfort to her. She would give them special treats, Christmas presents every year, and made sure Tenny was always stocked up with his fresh-sliced turkey breast. She told the deli people at Giant that she was making sandwiches for a church group. She'd call me to ask if I needed ``You know what for You know who.'' After a while, she shortened it to leave notes that simply said ``YKW2?''

            Fast forward several years, and Monty developed cancer. I had heard that cats would run away when they knew they were going to die, so their owners wouldn't have to face the emotional trauma. When things got really bad, Monty took his pain-wracked body and ran away to Pammie's, where he knew he'd be safe. She came with me to the vet's when I took him that last time, but couldn’t stand to stay once my John arrived because she was just so overwhelmed. 

            Tenny couldn't stand being an only child and cried miserably for two months before I finally agreed to get another cat. We found Mindy's glamour shot on  adoptapet.com and decided to bring her home. The rescue people had warned me Mindy was ``overweight and demanding,'' which I consider a breed trait for Maine Coon cats, but didn't mention that she was morbidly obese and sometimes rather abusive. She hit Tenny when they first met. But she loved Pammie from the start. She'd get peckish from my putting her on a diet, and would run over to Pammie's to complain. Pammie would give her love (and occasionally a treat) and let her roam around. It was great exercise. Mindy always wanted to get out and run to Pammie's door, looking at me in confusion when it didn't open.

            It was also where Tenny and Mindy reached their detente. Tenny would go in, immediately scratch the couch while staring at Mindy as if to say `I was here first.' Mindy would pretend to ignore him and immediately head to the study where she would start her almost daily walk. As Mindy became svelte and more comfortable in her surroundings (including with Tenny), her sweetness came shining through. Pammie always said it was because I had promised Mindy she was in her ``forever home'' after a succession of owners, but it was the acceptance and love from her Aunt Pammie that really helped.

            On the night Pammie died, the kids stayed home, comforting me, John Auchard and my John as the police and paramedics came through. The next day, I had my door open and Pammie's door open as John Auchard and I looked for a phone book to notify her friends. Normally, Tenny and Mindy would have streaked out of my place and run to Pammie's. Instead, they sat in the doorway of my apartment, just waiting for me to come home so they could both curl around me in comfort.

            It took two weeks before Mindy would even look at my front door. When she finally did, she looked toward Pammie's door, and quickly away before turning down to go along the sunwell. They know they'll never find a better friend than their Aunt Pammie.

Pammie: Blue-Eyed Hindi-Speaking Yorkist and Much Loved Friend

A waiter once spoke in Hindi to one of the members of our book club at a dinner, while addressing Pammie in English. “I speak Hindi,” Pammie said quietly to me, seeming a tad put out that the handsome waiter had not remembered talking to her earlier in that language. I told my husband about it when I got home that night, finding it funny in the nicest way. Pammie seemed not to understand why the waiter would look at this woman with those enormous blue eyes and not automatically think “ah, yes, Hindi speaker.”

Pammie benefited enormously from her travels, giving her a brilliant, if unorthodox, perspective. I knew of Pammie’s sharp and curious mind even before I met her. She had passed onto Sue her wonderful pet theory about a potential Scottish link to the grand statues on Easter Island. This gave Sue, my sister and me another idea to ponder during our 2002 visit there, trying to see how some redhaired Picts could have possibly had a role in the reddish stone "hats" that stand atop the grand statues of the ancestors of the Easter Islanders. I think that Easter Island is one of the few fascinating places in the world that Pammie didn’t visit.

Her approach was excruciatingly correct about the important things in life, including her friends, whether they walked on two or four feet, and language. She sent handwritten notes and fussed about flowers sent as gifts. Pammie told me once that she knew that we would get on well because we both stuck with the traditional meaning of “decimate” as to reduce by a tenth, and frowned upon the modern dilution of its meaning to any old drastic reduction. She also told me that she was thrilled to find that we were both Yorkists, meaning that we shared a conviction that Richard III has been done a mean trick by history. Her interests seemed vast and varied.

Pammie possessed a rare combination of great warmth and a sharp, sharp wit. She will be missed greatly because she was, rightfully, adored so much and by so many.

"A Pig Parade is a Terrible Idea" and other Pammie stories

Courtney, Noah and I were remembering Pammie last night by reading the children's book she gave him last Christmas. Its title, I think, says a lot about Pammie's whimsical nature. "A Pig Parade is a Terrible Idea" (http://www.amazon.com/Pig-Parade-Terrible-Idea/dp/1416979220) is quite funny. You might have guessed that from the title. It also doesn't talk down to kids, and is funny for adults, too. If you've ever spoken to Pammie, that won't be surprising.

Pammie never spoke down to Noah, or anyone else that I ever saw. She appreciated everyone for who they were. Her laughter and positive attitude seemed to bring out the best in her many friends. She was a delightful contributor to our book club. She hosted a great solstice party with great conversation and great food -- even when she wasn't in the best of physical shape at this past celebration. She loved to have a drink or two with her meals. She was a good talker and a good listener.

We miss you and love you.