Thursday, December 12, 2013

My Neighbors: Ernie And Rita


Ernie and Rita, the hard of hearing elderly couple who live in the apartment beneath me, just flagged me down at the front door to our apartment complex.  Rita said "Ken, we just want you to know that you are the best neighbor ever."  Apparently, they wanted to thank me again for "everything that you do" (although it mainly only involves hauling their trash can to and from the curb) and for making them feel "so safe here."   

That's right.  Rita called me Ken.  No matter how many hundreds of times Ernie and Rita have read "Kevin Smith" on my incoming mail, they continue to call me "Ken."  I don't have the heart to correct them.

Ernie has emphysema and was also just recently diagnosed with cancer of the kidney and so when the ambulance pulled up late Monday night I thought "Uh-oh . . . Ernie." Well, according to today's firsthand update, Ernie was just fine - curled up in bed, baggin' some zzzzs - that is until he woke up to take a pee and found that Rita had taken a tumble and was out cold on the dining room floor.

Even though I always tell them that I am fine, Ernie and Rita keep insisting that I let them know whenever they can do something for me. But I have to confess, I'm thinking that my sweet tooth is probably going to get some serious action this Christmas.

In the meantime, I am sure that Rita will continue to unknowingly entertain me with church music. Rita plays the organ at her and Ernie's church. Trust me, you truly have never heard "Leaning On His Everlasting Arms" until you've heard it from the slow and methodical hands of my downstairs neighbor.


Rita practices nearly every Saturday. All things considered, it's pretty damn sweet watching my Notre Dame Fighting Irish while "Onward Christian Soldiers" plods its way upward through the plaster and the floor boards.





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