One block away

It was a cold, gusty afternoon of grays and browns that greeted Dorothy Marshall as she stepped down onto the Forbes Avenue sidewalk. Two small steps, but even with her cane and sturdy shoes, Dorothy took steady, slow steps, one foot at a time. At 80 she couldn’t afford to break a hip. Her last visit to Magee Hospital when she’d broken her ankle last year had lasted a week – no picnic indeed, even with all the old doctors and nurses who remembered her from all those years she worked as Head Nurse in the maternity ward.

But she could see life had changed. Nowadays, people had VCRs and Walkmans, devices Dorothy couldn’t imagine learning how to use. She still used the antenna on her black-and-white television to get Channel 2, 4, and 11 so she could pick between Walter Cronkite, Peter Jennings, and John Chancellor.

She walked down the sidewalk on Forbes Avenue. Just ahead a ways was Carnegie Mellon, where Kay’s husband taught architecture, and across the street was the Synogogue, where Ida worshiped. Dorothy wished she still went to church, but she lost all interest after Kay and Ida died.

“’Xcuse me, Ma’am,” a middle-aged woman of olive skin and a smiling mouth full of teeth – how many, Dorothy had no idea – said. “Would you like to sign our petition to save the Soldiers and Sailors Hall from the wrecking ball? My name is Dorothy Marshall Jones –“

Dorothy’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon, what did you say your name was?”

“Dorothy Marshall Jones, and I work for –“

“That’s a coincidence, my name is Dorothy Marshall,” she said and laughed.

“Just like that nurse in the maternity ward,” the younger woman said. “My mama liked her so much, she named me after her. Dorothy Marshall Jones. Well, it was Peabody but I got married and now it’s Jones.”

Dorothy put her head back and laughed, harder than she could ever remember – probably all the way back to seeing “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” back in ’63. “You born at Magee Women’s Hospital?”

“That’s the one. Why – you must be that nurse. Tell me what my mama was like …”

“Honey, I delivered five to ten babies every day for forty years. No way can I remember a Mrs. Peabody.”