Meet Gussie, everybody.
Gussie Clementine Jones Succes. She's coming to visit us this weekend from Rochester, NY. The Succes part is the last name of her only husband, Enoch, a Haitian refugee who used her for a green card and then ran off about 15 years ago.
I met her when I was doing the 10pm-2am shift on the radio in Rochester in 1987. She worked at the now defunct Cadillac Hotel, a place where HIV could have been invented. I think someone was killed there every week. It was the in-spot for the Rochester underbelly. Transients, prostitutes, addicts, winos, pedophiles, abusers, hysterics, morons, homeless, and bad cooks all called the Cadillac home.
Gussie was the night clerk and called the station often to request songs during moments of respite from the mayhem. She was great company at 1am in a small market when nobody worth entertaining is listening.
My wife and I needed a cleaning person since we're both lazy and slobs, and she needed extra money to keep from her "husband" who was always out pissing away their salaries when she was busy working, passing the time with whores and liquor until the greenie came. She kicked him out of the house one night with no clothes on her, she was so fed up with him. There is an upside to a society that has not yet gone digital.
There was the time I came home to find Gussie naked and stuck in our bathtub. She decided to take a bath between chores, and must have swollen up a bit in the hot bath and couldn't extricate. It didn't help that she weighed 450 pounds, either. I closed my eyes and gamely grabbed her arm as she used a small washcloth as best she could to cover her lady bits. I do hope you're not eating now.
And then there was the time she didn't show up at our apartment until 6 hours after she was supposed to. She fell asleep on the bus and went around the city several times before waking up at 3pm, and getting off at our stop, Rochester's own Pascual Perez.
Hope your Labor Day weekend is just as fun. I think big things are gonna happen for you this September. I can feel it. If Mickey Rooney makes a return appearance on this year's MD telethon, it'll be perfect.
Before I forget, I'd like to pay tribute to Richard Jewell who died the other day at age 44. He was an avid listener to The Regular Guys Show, called in on several occasions, and, like myself, had to endure the cruel joke of being wrongly accused of a crime in public. I read that he had a heart attack, which is ironic, because during the Olympic Park bombing, of which he was accused, the band entertaining the crowd at the time was Jack Mack and the Heart Attack. That's all I got. Rest in Peace. Mr. Jewell.