Graeme Vanderstol was one of three white men (I’m another one) to marry into a Chinese family. At least, that’s how Graeme explains it when he’s asked, “How are you and David related?” Graeme was married to Eve, who died about seven years ago. She and Jadyne were first cousins. When we moved to Kensington we would see the two of them two or three times a year. Eve and I had a mutual love for the Beatles. Graeme and I, Apple and Indian music.
We don’t know the cause of Eve’s death. Cancer? As she lay dying I took my guitar to her bedside and played Beatles songs for her. When Graeme hosted a memorial service for Eve he invited musicians from all over the Bay Area to play, some from the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. I was asked to play “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, the last public performance that I ever made. And it was a fail. I had practiced it for days, but I couldn’t get through it. I apologized, but for a number of reasons I couldn’t do it.
Lian, Eve’s sister, comforts her a day or two before Eve died. I loved them both. Lian, the eldest of eight, died this past summer. The only one left is Larry, who was a child movie star called “Ducky Louie” and played opposite Anthony Quinn and others. In Back to Bataan Ducky dies in John Wayne’s arms. Larry became a dentist.
Graeme and Eve
Shortly after Eve died we lost touch with Graeme, although he lived nearby. When we reconnected a couple of months ago we learned that since her death he had traveled to Thailand, met a 41 year old kindergarten teacher with two or three children, married her, traveled with her internationally eleven times (so he said), and intended to go back in early December. Here’s Graeme when we reconnected at lunch two months ago.
Graeme at Little Hong Kong.
Not too bad for an eighty-seven year old man. Graeme has always been a traveler. An Australian by birth, Graeme’s love for music and exotic culture led him to India several times, bringing Indian musicians to perform in London.
It was during the sixties and seventies that he met the Beatles, spending Christmas with George Harrison. Paul McCartney came over during the holidays with the tape of Magical Mystery Tour. “Mum, this is Graeme. Graeme, this is my mum. And Graeme, this is my wife Pattie.”
Things change. Since that lunch Graeme went back to Thailand to see his wife, returned, and fell, spraining his hand. He’s unable to drive. In truth, he’s unable to do much of anything. I’ve been recruited, being the only available white guy around, to drive him to doctors’ appointments, one to see his audiologist, one to his dentist, and two to see about his sprained hand, one time to Orinda, another to Alta Bates in Berkeley.
Graeme has suffered a lot since that lunch, and his physical decline is significant, not to mention his forgetfulness and the lack of awareness. Two more appointments that I arranged to take him were on the wrong days. Graeme has a live-in helper from Yuba City who went home for Christmas, so I’ve been on duty several times in the last couple of weeks. Graeme is lonely, too, and although he has neighbors helping out, his mind, if forgetful, is still sharp. He knows stuff.
A week ago. The temperature in the house was fifty-five degrees. Graeme spends his days in bed
The bedroom
Headboard
One of two front rooms
Two of two front rooms
Graeme’s house cannot be navigated safely. Every room is stacked with books, tribal masks, CDs, records, papers, and boxes There is no clear path, no place to sit. If one could find a chair it would be covered with stacks of things. Even the kitchen has piles of papers and items that have no business being in a kitchen.
Graeme emailed me today, asking if I was around could I please stop by for a minute or two. I called him. He didn’t need any help. I didn’t go today. I’ll be checking again tomorrow.