National Treasure

“You call me. You’re in my city, now. I’m your Daddy. You need something, you call me.”

He’s 84 years old. Still working full-time as a master plumber here in New York City. His phone rings non-stop. Upon answering, conversational French, Spanish, or English ensue depending who is on the other end. In his spare time he does general contracting, specifically apartment building renovations. My father-in-law is a powerhouse. He’s what we all aspire to be as we age- sharp, incredibly quick-witted, dressy, loving and protective, but most importantly the emergency contact for his granddaughter. Oh yeah, and he is smooth. I mean really smooth. The ladies love him.

Of course, as COVID-19 sweeps the city, he has been at the forefront of my mind. Because we are all separated right now, in our respective homes, staying put and keeping safe, catching up with each other via phone. Time can’t seem to pass quickly enough, counting the days until this is over, ’til he can come for Sunday coffee again. The last time he visited, he tried raw agave in his coffee rather than sugar. He’s like that, incredibly curious, especially if it’s something that might be good for him.

That is something that I have always appreciated. In fact, he is the only person who has never judged me for not owning a microwave. He even actually listened when I explained what it does to the food. He appreciates my quirks, and goes with the flow, choosing instead to focus on what really matters… that I am a damn good mother to his grandchildren.

Today, I watched as my husband and two of his siblings packed him up in the car. He called a few days ago and told us he is unable to swallow solid food. He hasn’t been able to eat for nine days. Conference calls between his 5 children in NYC, DC, and Ft. Lauderdale became urgent. Paramedics were called at one point to ensure his stability, as he was going down fast. Have you ever tried to get care, diagnostic care, for someone in the epicenter of a pandemic? It’s scary. Because it’s impossible. So he was packed up, driven to the airport, and flown out to his youngest daughter in Florida. Out of his city. My husband masked him, gloved him, and I sent him off with a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes. I couldn’t hug him, or kiss his cheek. I had to stay back, faithfully socially distancing so as not to put him at risk.

Tonight, I sit. Praying for his safety. Tears welling since we received his call letting us know he is safely in Florida. He sounded weak. But he’s with Elizabeth. Thank God for Elizabeth. She will get to the bottom of it. She will get him the care that he needs. Outside of this madness, in a state that doesn’t want to receive New Yorkers for fear of COVID-19.

Florida, we have sent you a most prized possession. His name is Yves Eugene Legagneur. He immigrated from Jeremie, Haiti at 18. He served in the United States Army, as an Airborne Ranger. He isn’t perfect by any means, none of us are, but he is still actively contributing to our family, his community, this city and this country, to the best of his ability, at 84 years of age. We still have so much to learn from him. He is adored by his children and grandchildren. Beloved by his daughter-in-law. Take good care of him, Florida. Don’t let us down. We are entrusting you with national treasure…