Leslie Green Archives - Ramblin' with Roger

Dad’s cousin Ruth

tracking Walkers

Here’s my dad’s cousin Ruth (R) with two of her children. My sister Leslie and I saw her in October 2022 at the church we all grew up in, Trinity AME Zion in Binghamton, NY. She pointed out a room that used to be a Sunday school classroom where my paternal grandmother Agatha Green used to teach Sunday school to me and a bunch of other kids. It is now a room of noted members of the Trinity family, and she asked us for large photos of our parents for the wall, which we still need to get for her.

The most recent time I saw her was in August 2024, in Horseheads, NY, at the Elmira Jazz Festival. She and her two daughters went to see my niece Leslie’s daughter Rebecca Jade in concert.

She told the story, which I had heard before, about how, after I was born, my father was at her house. He was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper, but she had no idea what the heck he was doing. He was trying to figure out my name, and he wanted to get it to spell out something with my initials and name. Hence, ROG = Roger Owen Green. So she witnessed my naming.

Walker clan

In July 2024, sister Leslie was in Binghamton for her high school reunion. She went to see Cousin Ruth. Ruth gave her a whole bunch of information about the genealogy of the Walker clan. Ruth’s father was Earl; Earl was my paternal grandmother’s brother, so Ruth was my father’s first cousin. She was over a dozen years younger than him, so she didn’t know all the early stories about my father, but she knew him like a big brother.

She has kept track of the Walker genealogy, knowing all of Earl and Agatha’s siblings’ birth/death dates and those of some of their descendants. This will be very useful once I get a chance to work on it. She is my oldest living relative, so I’ve known her even longer than I’ve known Leslie.

I want to thank Ruth for the opportunity to delve into my father’s history. Had he been alive, my father would have been 98 tomorrow. He died in 2000, yet he remains a mystery in various strange and subtle ways.

Sister Leslie loves music

Happy birthday, Leslie!

No doubt: sister Leslie loves music.

I’ve known Leslie longer than almost anyone. Perhaps I met a cousin of my father in the couple of years I was alive before Leslie was born, but I have no specific recollection of that.

I grew up with Leslie. We went to the same elementary school with an ancient music book from which we sang. When I found a facsimile several years ago, I had to send her a copy.

I remember which LPs were hers and which were mine. She had, among others, Lady Soul – Aretha, Look at Us – Sonny and Cher, and Supremes A Go-Go. We, along with our little sister and a neighbor girl, would lipsynch to the songs of my Beatles VI album. Leslie was Paul because he was left-handed, like her, and cute.

Of course, we attended the same church and sang in two different iterations of the junior choir. One was the MAZET singers, which our father directed. MAZET is an anagram of the initials of Trinity African Methodist Episcopal Zion. Eventually, we both sang in the senior choir, though she was there longer than I did because I went away to college.

Trio

I’ve mentioned the Green Family Singers, which are comprised of Dad, Leslie, and me, in the past. She learned to play guitar functionally in about a month! Not incidentally, she now owns Dad’s steel-stringed Gibson guitar, but playing it is tough on her fingers.

Leslie and I sang in the Binghamton Central High School choir together for a year and a half. If we could find a soprano and tenor who knew the other parts, we could probably still sing some of that music from memory.

She was in a series of pop bands around Binghamton, the only one I remember being called Crystal Ship. Also, she attended what is now Binghamton University, where she participated in choirs. She was also in a few musicals in the community theater, including A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum and Hair; she kept her clothes on.

Her primary source of income was when she moved to Puerto Rico in the early 80s. I wish I had come down and seen her.

SoCal

When she moved to southern California, she sang in church and community choirs. I have a couple of her church choir’s Christmas concerts, and she almost always has a solo. Occasionally, she’s even directed a couple of church choirs.

When she was on a tour ship with her daughter, the singer Rebecca Jade, in 2018, she got to duet with Larry Graham of Sly and the Family Stone. She participated in singing the Mozart Requiem at Carnegie Hall in 2022, which my daughter and I enjoyed seeing.

Leslie recently visited a music store going out of business and learned about a slim guitar from Canada with nylon strings called Godin. On her next visit, it was marked down, though still pricey. With the help of her favorite daughter, she bought it! Moreover, she’s enjoying relearning the tunes she used to play.

Leslie and I can have very arcane conversations about music on a Zoom call with our baby sister. “Do you remember how that chord structure worked?” Marcia’s eyes glaze over. When I wrote recently that I love to sing the bass harmony, even when I’m in the congregation, Leslie sent me a message saying, “Oh yeah, I totally sing alto in the congregation.” We have the same sort of sensibility.

This picture from the San Diego Master Chorale epitomizes her joy of music. So, happy birthday, Leslie. May music always be in your heart; I know that it will.

Reciprocity with sister Leslie

Another set of eyes

As I now think it about, I developed an unstated reciprocity with sister Leslie in 2023. In recent years, she has had the opportunity to travel, primarily to Europe. She was able to give me some travel advice when we went to France.

Moreover, she sent me some documents, especially from Ireland, which may come in handy if I ever figure out who my great-grandmother Margaret/Marguerite Collins Williams’ parents were.

More recently, she has changed jobs. She still works for the same entity, but in a different department. Now she has interns, which she’s not used to having.

When I was working for the New York Small Business Development Center, we had several interns. Most of them in later years were NOT library students. But they were smart and eager and curious.

I found some long-term wishlist projects, such as adding more current statistics to our website. If I were immodest, I would say that I was rather good at finding them projects that were not just “make work” tasks.

Mystery shopping

However, my sister is too new to her department to have developed such projects. In this case, I recommended that she get her interns to “shop” her department.

The first thing I thought of was that her interns could look over their current website. They should try it on Google Chrome, Microsoft Edge, and Firefox.

Are there any broken links or pages that load slowly?

Are there any misspellings or instructions that are confusing?

Is the site compliant with Americans With Disabilities Act requirements?

Are there color combos that aren’t easy to read – yellow on white, purple on black, or too-fancy fonts that are difficult to read?

One intern has already discovered that the directions for people in the offices ordering an ergonomically-correct chair on their Intranet was unclear. People who are outside of a process can often discover things that those on the “inside” just can’t see.

Sister Leslie is… a year older today.

How terribly strange to be 70

Psalm 90:10

RogerGreenBirthdayCartoon490 How terribly strange to be 70. I’ve used that title twice before in this blog, and you can probably guess when in 2011: on October 13 and November 5.

Now, I’M three score and ten, which is old. Or at least oldish.

Psalm 90:10 in the King James Version reads, “The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.”

In case you don’t recognize the artist, the work was created by my friend Fred Hembeck in 2007. Fred gave me the original black and white piece, on which he indicated, “54 ROCKS!” He’s a full five weeks older than I am. I believe I’ll use this illustration every five years, just because.

The home church

Sister Leslie took the photo on her phone. It was when we visited Trinity A.M.E. Zion Church at the corner of Oak and Lydia Streets in Binghamton, NY, on October 9, 2022.

The room used to be the Sunday School room when I was a kid. My paternal grandmother, Agatha Helen (Walker) Green (1902-1964), taught me. Now, the room is used as a memorial to the Departed Loved Ones of the church.

On the wall, along with photos of Mrs. Armstrong (left of center), and Mr. Woodward, is my Grandma Green, more or less hovering over my head. I don’t THINK that was the photographer’s intent, but it’s a rather cool effect.

Not incidentally, the church – specifically, my father’s cousin Ruth – requested a picture of my parents for the wall. My sisters and I ought to work on that.

Anyway, it’s my birthday, divisible by five (and seven and two), no less, so that’s enough for today.

Two hospital visits on the same day

transthoracic echocardiogram

How I had two hospital visits on the same day. Well, of a sort.

Monday, October 10: Leslie and I return to Albany, stopping to pick up a lot of Italian food. My wife also wanted us to pick up her prescription pain medication, but it wasn’t there. Her doctor’s office had failed to send the info either that day or the following morning. She increasingly needed pain relief, particularly from the inflammation of her left foot. Finally, it was filled, and I retrieved it.

Moreover, in addition to the infection of her ankle, a blister developed on her left shin. When I think of a blister, I think of a tiny, though irritated, area. This was considerably larger. As my wife later suggested, it was also appropriate for the holiday season because it like as though it was from a zombie.

Leslie and I saw my daughter before she left the next morning with about a third of the food, which was fine.

Tuesday, October 11: We were going to go to a timeshare in the Berkshires, but my wife couldn’t stand the pain of being in the car for an hour. Plan B: After we put the one cat in the basement, Leslie came over and washed the dishes while I attempted to straighten up the house and tend to my wife.

Wednesday, October 12: Leslie and I went to the rental car place to return the vehicle. She Ubered to the airport, and I took the bus home. I certainly didn’t mind taking care of my wife, but it ate into most of my time for food prep and just helping her to get from one point to another.

The day without end

Thursday, October 13: My wife and I had separate medical visits. I went to the cardio section of St. Peter’s Hospital to get a transthoracic echocardiogram (TTE). What is THAT? It is “a test that uses ultrasound (sound waves) to create images of your heart. TTE can determine how well your heart is functioning and identify causes of cardiac-related symptoms.”

I’m getting this test because of this. I used to get one annually, but then my cardiologist retired, and no one in the office followed up. So I had to get my primary care physician (PCP) to contact another practice in Schenectady, who I had seen a couple of weeks earlier. BTW, the Ellis Hospital main phone line sucks. I was in phone hell for ten minutes before abandoning it, Googling the directish number I needed, and calling that.

Part 2

So after the test, I went home, ate lunch, and watched a recorded episode of JEOPARDY. But before I could finish it, my wife called and said that HER PCP was displeased with the progress of her leg. The antibiotics should have done more. She should go to the emergency room and be admitted. I was to meet there, at St. Peter’s, where I had just come from.

We both arrived around 2:30 p.m.; she’d gotten a ride from the church friend who had taken her to the doctor. After two hours, she was called to the triage office, which involved her using her crutches to hobble there. Yes, the nurse there said my wife should be admitted. She finally got a wheelchair.

Around 6, I went home to take the trash to the curb, feed the cats, and, most importantly, make my wife a sandwich. The selection of graham crackers, saltine crackers, and Lorna Doones has dissipated over time. The bottled water is gone, with just some ginger ale cans.

Finally, my wife gets to go to a bed attached to the ER. I go in about a half hour later as it becomes obvious that she won’t see anyone for a while. At about 11 pm, I go home.

Admitted

Friday, October 14: She tells me that several medical folks saw her overnight, some of which involved doctors waking her in the middle of the night. Around noon, she’s on the fifth floor. But she doesn’t have a room yet. And she hasn’t eaten or even drunk water since 8 pm the night before because the vascular surgeon was supposed to see her.

I arrive on the 5th floor at about 1:45 pm and find my wife, who doesn’t yet have a room. She’s on the floor, with some partitions providing a modicum of privacy. Then I got a call maybe 10 minutes after I arrived. It was my MIL wanting to know how her daughter was doing; I hadn’t spoken to her since we were still in the ER.

Finally, at about 2 pm, my wife gets a room. More importantly, since it was established that the vascular guy WOULDN’T see her that day, she got some food!

I was very distressed by all of this. It was my impression that her PCP could call the hospital and bypass the hours of waiting. I figured it would be like my last ER visit in August. Of course, that was a perceived heart thing in a less busy hospital. One of the medical professionals we spoke with subsequently said that’s just how health care is, especially in the last three years.