When people ask me to describe my sister Lisa’s personality, I share that she is sweet beyond belief and fragile, but I also acknowledge her ever-growing capacity to advocate for herself and assert her point of view.
Lisa is simultaneously delightful and determined with a sense of humor like a steam roller. Coming in. Make way. If you missed my favorite post about that…take a peek. Lisa’s a hoot and a human time machine. Capable of savant-like micro recall of every day of her life which, given our life with Sue, can be troublesome. Like a powder keg. Tripping a wire, unleashing an onslaught of Lisa’s memories might provoke fear OR giggles because she can be in the moment, reliving a continuum of joy-to-drama far too easily. Her gifts are her burdens.
I try to lighten Lisa’s darker memories by focusing on her expansive knowledge of pop culture. I joke with her that she’s like a walking TV Guide (remember those little publications?). I love her recall of classic TV trivia and you won’t win if you challenge her about favorite shows such as Mary Tyler Moore, Happy Days or the Carol Burnett and when they aired. You will lose. 😉
One of those intense recall episodes occurred last week when Lisa almost fell off the front stoop at her group home. She confused me at first when she called – the paradox of laughing as she told me she almost “broke all her bones” falling off the front step as she entered her house. She was giddy with excitement, anxious to tell me she was fine, she only stumbled. But that wasn’t the headline. Her wobble reminded her of a slapstick “Sue or Lucy” moment on an Easter Sunday many years ago.
In “Surviving Sue” I tell a few stories about Sue’s nine lives…or five lives (given that’s the number of “Sue or Lucy” stories I tell). Just like Lucille Ball in episodes of “I Love Lucy”, Sue found her way into trouble frequently, but invariably, she came out unscathed. Like a gymnast who does a lousy trick but stands proud in the dismount – hands overhead – Sue always struck a triumphant pose. Imagine Ethel and Lucy on the assembly line packaging chocolates. Life with Sue was often sitcom silly, even when the wheels were falling off.
Years after the Easter incident I’m about to share, Lisa revels in the silly. And heaven help you if you interrupt her while she’s in mid-memory as the orator. Hold that thought. Questions at the end, audience members. Lisa’s reliving, retelling and rejoicing in the fun. Sometimes bittersweet but always with Sue center stage. I think you’ll enjoy this snippet of a “Peek Inside: Surviving Sue”. It’s a five-star memory of Lisa getting the last word, despite Sue’s antics (p. 153):
They arrived an hour late for Easter dinner and we watched as the big white Cadillac pulled up. Peeking through the front window, Delaney said, “Mama – I think they’re fighting.” I looked, and Sue had her index finger flying in Lisa’s face, gesturing wildly. They didn’t see us gawking at them, so we kept peeking. Finally, Sue opened her door and Lisa followed suit. Hallelujah – they’re coming in! Let’s get this over with! Sue popped the trunk and Lisa opened the rear door on the passenger side to help Sue retrieve their contributions to the festivities: beer (of course),Pepsi, Jell-O salad, Wavy Frito-Lay chips, Sue’s mystery casserole (we never knew what she was concocting), and Easter dessert – a tray of store-bought cupcakes that Sue would declare were homemade – with marshmallow Peeps riding alongside.
Lisa grabbed a bag from the backseat and Sue had an armload of cupcakes and the casserole from the trunk as they both tottered toward the front door. Almost there, I thought! Alas, no. Our front stoop wasn’t large – just enough room to step up, ideally one person at a time – to enter. Whether Sue’s vision was obscured by the load in her arms, or they were both simply too wound up to be balanced, in unison, they both took a big step onto the stoop. Delaney and I swung the screen door open, preparing to help them in, and saw what was unfolding but couldn’t stop it. Slow-motion style, they hit – shoulder to shoulder – and bounced – one to the left, one to the right – just like human bowling pins. Lisa landed in the boxwood hedge as the Jell-O spewed everywhere. Sue flew to the left and landed in a muddy patch, just as the contents of the casserole landed on her. Cupcakes and peeps found resting places amidst the mess. The beer and Pepsi were unharmed.
We knew they weren’t hurt but it was a shocker for them, and for Paul, Delaney, and me as we watched helplessly. We scooped them up and tried to laugh about it. How crazy was that? Oh, my goodness! But Sue was having none of it. With a combination of mud and what looked like green bean casserole in her hair, it was impossible for us to keep straight faces. Sue vehemently shouted that she was not the clumsy one. “This is all Lisa’s fault!” (The whole situation was made worse, I’m sure, by the fact that Lisa was laughing so hard she peed herself and proudly announced she had wet pants.)
“Lisa pushed me,” Sue screamed. Lisa squared up – looking ten-feet tall as she whipped her head around – and said, “Hell no, you pushed me first.” Easter dinner that year was remarkable, not because of the hi-jinks on entry, but because Lisa had one of her best days ever as she shut down Sue, wet drawers and all.
If you have a minute or two more, take a gander at my Heart of the Matter post today. Beyond the funny, my life with Lisa is serious and advocating for her, seeing her blossom and grow – finally, in her sixth decade – is one of the shiniest, most rewarding parts of my life.
Big hugs,
Vicki 🥰
Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate your interest and feedback about “Surviving Sue” and I’m so pleased to have great reviews on Amazon and Goodreads…and I welcome more. If you’ve enjoyed the book and my story, please pass along your positivity to a fellow reader.
Victoria Ponders 
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