Saturday, February 9, 2013
Peter Died.................by Diane Ogden
Peter was my friend. Several years ago something bad happened to me and I had to start over in life. In the area of finding a job that is. Which wasn't happening so I took a job delivering newspapers. I delivered The ONION and the University of Wisconsin Badger Herald and I forgot the other one (imagine that?) Oh yeah The Cardinal. And the Sustainable Times. I over-loaded my blessed car every day and overloaded my back also. It was too much work for a lady my size and for too long but I thanked the Universe and or God everyday that I had enough money to exist. I did that for four or five years. I didn't count. While I did that I met a fellow named Peter Bell. Peter was quite the different sort of person. He had a photographic memory and would call me and telling me everything he ever remembered in life!! Sometimes that was annoying. Peter and I did not have a romantic relationship, rather he liked to call and visit. He would stopped over maybe three times in the 4-5 years we knew each other and he called himself Uncle Peter to my cat and dog. Peter knew hundreds of jokes but I never could remember them. Not until Peter died. Then I remembered the last joke he ever told me and I cant forget it.
Why didn't the skeleton cross the road?
Because he didn't have any guts!
I know, its a dumb old joke, and Peter knew them all. And I always laughed 'cause he needed that.
He told me about every island everywhere it seemed. And actors and actress's from old movies and the old movies of which I never could remember because Peter was a few years older than I. He also stood up for me at work when someone said I threw good papers away. No one else believed me when I really didn't throw any papers away. Sometimes in those sort of jobs (lower class) others who need the job set one up for such a nasty so they get fired. Guess they do that at higher class jobs too. Regardless Peter was a constant to me and disregarded others taught. He didn't believe in God. The Nuns and Priests messed him up pretty bad at the Catholic school he went to. Really bad in fact. They told him even if he had sexual thoughts (and he was at that young man age where that is normal) that he would go to Hell. He actually had to get psychiatric help when he was young due to the "religious") brainwashing. Peter was a ballroom dancer. He wooed the ladies at the Rosewood Apartments where he lived. And the ratio of men to women was 20-1! So he was a busy fellow. Peter had a Jerbal...crap I forget her name.... And Peter loved to sell things on his computer. He retired from J.C. Penney's before he delivered newspapers. Once he applied for a job as a shuttle driver for the airport. Peter was always coming up with crazy ideas to make money. And he usually made enough. He had his own Tuxedo Printing Company on the side. He was very proud when he was asked to make OBAMA buttons and or Obama car magnets. He introduced me to Suzanne Beecher who is a writer. Peter always told me I was an excellent writer and after I wrote my first novel (still sitting there needing tweaks) he called Suzanne who was so kind to send me a signed copy of her book and give me wonderful instructions on how to publish mine. He also told me when he first saw me (in the dirty warehouse, no not whorehouse) that he just figured I was a lowlife.
www.match.com. Oh Lord that was a mess because Peter thought he was maybe a little better looking than true life. He had no waist and no butt so his pants barely stayed up. He was bald and his glasses were I swear from the 60's so I told him it was time for an upgrade and some clothes that fit. He listened and got new glasses and some new jeans. Peter had ADD! Peter never stopped talking. If I wanted to say something I had to shout at him to STOP, IT'S MY TURN! Then he would stop but for the most part he talked and I listened. I could talk while he was talking which I did sometimes just for fun and he never heard me! Seriously. Peter told me when we die we all just go to different dirt. I cracked up but then when I thought about it.....dang he was right. Depending on how we do in life depends on what dirt we go to. Doesn't that sound like the absolute truth? From dust to dust / ashes to ashes? I wonder if there are different ash piles? Just kidding. Peter's sister Marge Jesberger from New England area called me and told me Peter had passed. I didn't cry, but I got all giddy and weird. I don't know why. I told her everything I could think of about Peter and our relationship. Like she missed out knowing that part of him or something. I don't know. I did cry later on. Peter always printed all my mailing labels and my business magnet for my car as well as magnetic business cards and so on. He was just a swell person. Annoying at times, but swell. And I miss Peter Bell and his bad jokes and ADD and intelligent conversation. Even though much of the time it was one-sided. His! I bet he is happy happy now. He had to work too hard here on earth.