For Tammy, in Memory
Today an ambulance arrived at our apartment complex and did not use sirens when it left.
They were here for Tammy, the complex manager. She won’t be coming back. She wasn’t 60 yet.
I’ve lived here for a decade, and after a few weeks in my apartment, the previous manager left and Tammy took over.
I have in my life seen maybe ten people who were undeniably excellent at their job, and Tammy would head the list.
A small woman, about 5’2”, and tough as a badger when she needed to be. Wife beater? Given to harassing your neighbors? Violent when you drink? Selling drugs from your apartment?
Tammy would have none of that. You either cleaned up your act or were evicted. Your choice. Dogs were leashed and cleaned up after.
The other side of Tammy was generous and thoughtful. When I first got here, I messed up financially and found myself with very little food a week before payday. A jar of peanut butter, in fact. I asked Tammy if someone might have a loaf of bread to tide me over. She returned in about an hour with two over-flowing grocery bags, Fruit, meat, pasta and sauce, even a package of cookies. And bread.
I asked who the donors were so I could pay them back She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Someday I’ll knock on your door asking for somebody else.” And she did, more than once, and I was happy to help.
She found ways. If a resident lost their job, she hired them to rake leaves, sweep the parking lot and to help others who live here. She paid them out of her pocket. A couple of people who died here had pets and no support system. Tammy found homes for them and adopted one little dog herself.
About six months ago, she told me she’d been diagnosed with lung cancer. She had chemotherapy and radiation, and kept working. A month ago she fell and broke her shoulder. I found encouragement in the fact that they operated, but I was wrong.
She came home to her apartment but she didn’t go back to work and sometime last night, she lost her battle.
Tammy, you were a star, and we’ll miss you fiercely.
They were here for Tammy, the complex manager. She won’t be coming back. She wasn’t 60 yet.
I’ve lived here for a decade, and after a few weeks in my apartment, the previous manager left and Tammy took over.
I have in my life seen maybe ten people who were undeniably excellent at their job, and Tammy would head the list.
A small woman, about 5’2”, and tough as a badger when she needed to be. Wife beater? Given to harassing your neighbors? Violent when you drink? Selling drugs from your apartment?
Tammy would have none of that. You either cleaned up your act or were evicted. Your choice. Dogs were leashed and cleaned up after.
The other side of Tammy was generous and thoughtful. When I first got here, I messed up financially and found myself with very little food a week before payday. A jar of peanut butter, in fact. I asked Tammy if someone might have a loaf of bread to tide me over. She returned in about an hour with two over-flowing grocery bags, Fruit, meat, pasta and sauce, even a package of cookies. And bread.
I asked who the donors were so I could pay them back She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Someday I’ll knock on your door asking for somebody else.” And she did, more than once, and I was happy to help.
She found ways. If a resident lost their job, she hired them to rake leaves, sweep the parking lot and to help others who live here. She paid them out of her pocket. A couple of people who died here had pets and no support system. Tammy found homes for them and adopted one little dog herself.
About six months ago, she told me she’d been diagnosed with lung cancer. She had chemotherapy and radiation, and kept working. A month ago she fell and broke her shoulder. I found encouragement in the fact that they operated, but I was wrong.
She came home to her apartment but she didn’t go back to work and sometime last night, she lost her battle.
Tammy, you were a star, and we’ll miss you fiercely.
