Carolyn Cooper | Dr Ouida Skeffrey, a good neighbour

Two decades ago, when I moved next door to Dr Ouida Skeffrey, she graciously welcomed me to the neighbourhood. She attended the housewarming party I hosted and made me feel at ease. I had some regrets about leaving the cocoon of College Common, on the campus of The University of the West Indies (UWI), Mona, where I had lived comfortably for 19 years in an intellectually stimulating environment. I would often discuss academic projects with my neighbours Velma Pollard and Hubert Devonish.

But it was time to move. I did not want to be trapped, like so many of my colleagues, who got to retirement age and suddenly, it seemed, realised they were no longer entitled to live in the house they’d claimed as home. I had reservations about moving to Beverly Hills with its reputation of snobbery. But it was close to UWI. Further, I’d negotiated a very good deal on the house. As it turned out, all the neighbours I got to know had gradually stepped up in life. And they hadn’t forgotten where they were coming from. They were not snobbish at all.

Quite early on, Ouida gave me excellent advice. She said I should be careful of the wind which was very powerful. It would knock things over. I foolishly asked if the wind would turn the curtains into missiles. She drily told me that she meant what she said. The issue was the wind. I laughed and took her advice.

CHATTING OVER THE FENCE

Ouida was a constant gardener and would come out most mornings to do a little pruning. I enjoyed chatting with her over the fence. Unintentionally, it seemed, our friendship was guided by the proverbial claim in Robert Frost’s often-quoted poem, Mending Wall: “Good fences make good neighbors.” It is the poet’s neighbour who insisted on keeping his distance. Frost, himself, teasingly challenged that assertion:

“Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

‘ Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.’”

There was no wall between Ouida’s garden and mine. Not even a proper fence; just an assortment of makeshift barriers, including metal railings. Ironically, it was I who presumptuously decided to install a chain-link fence with a cut-stone base – without consulting Ouida. I didn’t think to ask myself “what I was walling in or walling out.”

A FAITHFUL MEMBER

Ouida was a faithful member of the Sts Peter and Paul Roman Catholic church. Every Sunday, she would drive off in fine style. And, if I caught her in time, I would compliment her on how elegant she looked. She would modestly accept my words of approval. Ouida was eventually forced to stop driving. I think it was because of the requirements of her insurance company.

I, myself, had to send a firm email to my own insurer: “[W]ith all the clearly mad drivers out on the road, I don’t think General Accident should be discriminating against sane senior citizens. We should not be required to undergo a medical examination in order to renew our car insurance.” I did submit to the exam, kicking and screaming.

The time came when it was decided that Ouida, who had been living on her own, would be best served by being put in a nursing home. I visited her almost every week. And I always took the Sunday Gleaner. We chatted a lot and Ouida would insist, optimistically, that one day she would return home. She definitely did not like living in the nursing home, even though she had a nice front room.

I was not as hopeful as Ouida about her coming back home. I feared that she would wither away in constant sadness. But I tried to encourage her to keep the faith. Sometimes, it struck me that she might be losing her memory because of her sense of displacement. I once made the mistake of asking if she knew who I was. She disdainfully replied, “Of course I know it’s you, Carolyn Cooper.”

HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT

You cannot imagine my joy when Ouida came home. It was her great fortune that her sister, Yvonne, who had retired from her practice as a medical doctor in the Bahamas, decided to return to Jamaica. She and Ouida, who had retired from her own practice as an optometrist, now shared the family home. My huge disappointment was that I was unable to visit Ouida. I was told by a family member that she did not wish to receive visitors. I certainly did not think that could possibly apply to me. I wondered if Ouida really no longer knew who I was.

Over the years, Ouida had stopped gardening. I could not chat with her across the fence. I would occasionally catch a glimpse of her on the verandah. And I would hear her calling out to her attentive nurse, Trudy. I never ever got to see Ouida again. She died in April this year. Yvonne had died in April 2021.

Two Saturdays ago, an intimate memorial service of thanksgiving for both sisters was held at Sts Peter and Paul. It was heartbreaking. Sometimes, I wonder if I should not have been more persistent about asking to visit Ouida. But I console myself with memories of the many conversations my good neighbour and I enjoyed. Ouida and I walled each other in.

Carolyn Cooper, PhD, is a teacher of English language and literature and a specialist on culture and development. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and karokupa@gmail.com