Kathie Gagne died 4,704 days ago.

The Face of Florida Works
April 17th, 2009 @ 6:11 am

On April 17, 2009 mom wrote a document she saved on her computer as The Face of Florida Works.doc. I have no idea why she wrote it. It almost reads like a review for a website, or perhaps it was something she planned to send to Florida Works as part of a resume.

 

The Face of Florida Works:

I was pleasantly surprised at the level of skill and caring that I received on my first visit to Florida Works. I have been hiring and training people for years professionally, and having lost my job, was wondering how well clients would be treated.

People who come into Florida Works are often scared, with little money, having lost a job, wondering how they will find one, and how long it will take. Not having a job is almost worse than not having money.

At every turn; however, there is someone to help. The face of Florida Works is a smile from the front desk and respect from the staff.

It is always important to present a positive attitude when people are in stress mode. It is amazing how often a staff member can direct the person to the right place immediately.

When you’re scared and afraid of the future, you need someone who can support you with the information you need in a matter of minutes. I have found that the front desk staff is particularly good at that.

I have never seen anyone turned away. I have often seen clients smiling because they got the right answer without waiting.

Good business depends on good interactions, and at Florida Works, the issue is not to move people aside, but to get clients to the right place as quickly as possible.

 
Gone with the Wind
February 21st, 2009 @ 12:00 pm

2/21/09

Hi, Mom,

I’m watching Gone With the Wind. Daddy really did look like Clark Gable.

It makes me feel close to you. I wish we could watch it together some day. Maybe I’ll ask Jen to watch it someday soon.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you!

Clark Gable just carried Scarlett up the stairs.

How do things go so wrong? Why do people screw up their lives?

I guess movies aren’t all they’re made up to be.

I love you, Mom. I still wish almost everyday that we could talk.

Kathie
Kathleen A. Gagne

Letters to Kids
January 25th, 2009 @ 12:00 pm

In January of 2021, more than eight years after she died, I found a handwritten letter Mom wrote to me and my little sister about three years before she died. It was in an envelope with “Letters to Kids” scrawled on it. The letter itself is a photocopy, but I have no recollection of receiving the original.

1/25/09
Dear David, and Jen,

I guess what I’ll do tonight is talk about Papa. I never really understood him or the cynergy between him and Nana. I’m pretty sure papa’s ego was wounded early on, especially since my paternal grandmother openly preferred her elder son.

When papa was in the army, he sent money to my aunt Olga every month. She used it to buy the three story house my aunt still lives in.

Unfortunately, Uncle Dic somehow lost all of papa’s medals, including a purple heart and a bronze star for valor.

At one point, during the war, papa was stationed near Panama. He was a heavy drinker at that time. I guess it must have been on a bet, but papa stole the fire engine where he was and made a lot of noise in the middle of the night.

Papa was a staff Sargeant. When he finally got the fire engine back, he was thrown in the local jail; and, as a result of his shenanigans, he was demoted.

Years later, when papa and I were on a bowling team, I, who never drank alcohol, used to get rum & coke to drink. (Cuba Libra).

Papa and I had never talked about alcohol, but one night, while we were bowling, he told me what I was drinking were Cuba Libras.

Papa loved to bowl. During his lifetime he had two perfect games. (300) I’m sure you remember the bowling alley.

Ok, papa mostly worked in construction and was an expert on cement mixing. Do you remember one day at the beach when papa took you up one of the big machines he was driving?

The elephant story always breaks my heart; but I’m sure you’ve heard that one several times. For some reason, Uncle Dic won’t give money to the Red Cross.

Papa’s feet were a mess, especially his toes. He told me that, at one point while they were marching through swamps, they could never get their socks dry enough to wear. I can only picture how awful it was, never knowing when you might get shot.

Merril’s Marauders were an elite group. Thousands started out and only a few hundred survived the march through Burma, India, and China. They made a movie about it.

I don’t know if papa acted the way he did because of his upbringing or because of the war.

I do know that, at some point he had a sense of humor. I’m sure you know the story of when he came home from the war and received a letter requiring him to go to the recruitment center. He asked him why he had never been drafted. The fact was that papa was already in the army when the war broke out.

My aunt Dora owned a store, and so did Nana. They became friends, and, when papa came home Aunt Dora asked him to be Richard’s godfather and asked Nana to be his godmother.

That’s how they met. I can imagine papa being awkward and ill-at-ease during the process. He was awed by Nana, but he looked like Clark Gable, and they got married after a few months.
Love,
Mom

Boys and Girls Club
January 16th, 2009 @ 7:42 pm
 
 

from a file named Boys and Girls Club.doc found on mom’s old computer hard drive

Big Brothers Big Sisters of Mid-Florida
January 16th, 2009 @ 7:14 pm
 
 

from a file named Big Brothers Big Sisters.doc found on mom’s old computer hard drive

Stories in a Letter
January 12th, 2009 @ 8:52 pm

I was cleaning an old filing cabinet in the middle of March, 2013, when I found this letter from my mom:

 

1/12/09

Dear David,

I’m writing to you to provide you with “exciting” information about my history.

You cannot, at any time, accuse me of repetition!

Ok, here goes: I was used to hearing foul language in our second-floor, cold-water flat. For some reason, Nana wanted me to go to parochial school. I promptly got in trouble for saying “fuck you,” to a nun who subsequently washed my mouth out with soap.

After that episode, I became a pre-school drop out. I think mom and my grandmother were mortified!

I’ve mentioned that there was a lot of yelling in our first apartment on Ridge Street. I do remember being cold a lot.

I guess the next thing I clearly remember was hearing Nana and Papa screaming at each other. This particular time, although there were many, papa left his cash on the dining room table. I was afraid it would get lost so I hid it in a closet.

I don’t remember if they kept fighting after I told them where the money was.

Mom always told the story about Papa and the barking dogs. Papa was so happy to get them, but when he got them home, they didn’t bark and he was devastated.

I always felt like the only sane one in the family.

At one point, we moved to a small house about 100 yards up from the beach. Daddy got us a dog. I loved that dog more than my life. Lady was my best friend, but we had to move.

I put Lady in my doll carriage and pushed it up the street to our new house. The owner wouldn’t let us have pets, so my dad took her to the pound. Maybe that’s why I always wanted pets.

Love,
Mom

 

The letter is dated 1/12/09 and the envelope is postmarked the next day. The return address is from her house on NW 30th Terrace in Gainesville, Florida.

An interesting fact about this letter is that what I have is a photocopy. I’m not sure why she made a photocopy of it, or why she sent me the photocopy instead of the original.

I had no idea she had ever lived in a second-floor, cold-water flat, and I’d never heard of Ridge Street.

Her handwriting is perfect, but — in retrospect — after reading it I should have clearly realized that she had been suffering from some serious sort of memory problem.

Calling an apartment a “flat” seems so strange to me, and not like anything she would have ever said aloud. She forgot to put a comma after the word saying. She used the phrase a lot. She spelled table as talbe, then crossed it out and kept going. Those little mistakes are all very uncharacteristic of her. And of course the disjointed narrative was completely unlike anything of hers I’d ever read.

Law Offices of Howard Rosenblatt
December 19th, 2008 @ 6:10 pm

Mom was a big fan of writing letters. She wrote letters to politicians and newspapers, administrators and executives, friends and family. She loved the formatting of them and knowing the proper layout and simply the entire process of crafting an epistle, and so she did it frequently.

Here’s a letter she sent to a law firm where she had been rejected for a position:

 
 
For Some Reason
December 16th, 2008 @ 12:00 pm

The market crash of ’08 profoundly affected mom. Her parents and grandparents lived through the Great Depression and talked about it often; it wasn’t some distant historical artifact like it is to most of us today. She hated to see people wanting, but was very excited about Obama getting elected.

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More Than Money
December 8th, 2008 @ 12:00 pm

Towards the end of 2008 mom was really struggling financially. She’d been out of work for a long time and unable to find a new job, blown through her pittance of a retirement fund and desperate. Of course I sent her money whenever I could and did my best to help her get a handle on her bills. She sent me this letter after I’d sent her a check.

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A Walk in a Park
December 7th, 2008 @ 12:00 pm

Towards the end of the 2008 college football season, Mom sent me a letter stuffed with clippings from the University of Florida student newspaper, the Independent Florida Alligator. Most of them were articles and pictures celebrating the similarities between the ’96 and ’08 teams, but one was a scathing diatribe about an error-filled ESPN segment which falsely claimed Gatorade had been invented at Florida State University.

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