Adele's joy

My sister Adele had a rough life. She passed away in late January of 2024, just days before the movers were to take my wife and me to Fernandina Beach.

In order to truly appreciate the kindness and joy of my sister, you need a bit of backstory. My parents didn’t have a lot of money; we lived upstairs from my grandparents, a true three-generation household. When Adele hit middle school, she had enough of me as a roommate, forcing my parents to invest in a sofa bed. It was around this time that some of her early struggles began to manifest. Adele had a severe stutter. In fact, she couldn’t get a full sentence out without stuttering. Added to that was that she had braces and wore glasses. In elementary school, she was protected from teasing because my cousin Frankie (no one messed with Frankie) watched over her.

High school was a different story. She attended an all-girls Catholic school and was teased, bullied, and abandoned by elementary school friends; and eventually, she just shut down. I can remember her faking illness or pleading with our mom to allow her to skip school. She dropped out at 16 and stopped eating. My parents sent her for therapy, but when her weight slipped below 70 pounds, she was sent to a rehab facility where she was eventually cured of her anorexia. But her struggles with mental illness continued.

She lived at home for a few years, but didn’t have a lot of friends and rarely socialized with others. Still, she found ways to bring joy into her life. She loved to write and would dabble in poetry and short stories. I remember coming home from high school as a freshman. School had just started, and I was given an assignment to write a story about the World’s Fair that was taking place in Queens, New York. Adele asked me if she could write the composition for me. I couldn’t say yes fast enough and ran out to shoot hoops with my friends. When I got home, the finished story was waiting for me on the kitchen table. I knew it was way better than anything I could come up with, so I made a few edits and handed it in. My English teacher, Brother Kernan, was so impressed that he read it to every one of his classes.

Adele fought hard to try and live a normal life. Eventually, she married and adopted a daughter, Aimee, the love of her life. Unfortunately, her marriage of nearly 40 years was difficult. Her husband would take advantage of her weaknesses and be mentally abusive. We all hoped that she would soon get fed up and leave him. But instead, she found comfort in a church, which filled her with intense joy. She spoke about the music and the youth programs, always with a smile. I really believe it was the happiest time of her life.

Late in life, when Aimee took a job in Dallas, Adele divorced and started to live on her own. At this point her struggles with mental illness were hard to ignore. With the early onset of dementia and difficulty handling finances, she moved to a senior living apartment in Stamford, Connecticut and was assigned a conservator. It was at this point in her life that her penny obsession moved into high gear.

I lived over an hour away but started visiting her more often. She would often tell me the story (yes, I heard this story at least a hundred times) about when she was young and was walking with our mother. If she saw a penny on the ground, mom would become aggravated and say, “Adele, pick up that penny! People don’t care about pennies anymore.”

After our mom passed, whenever Adele found a penny, she would thank my mom. This would bring her joy in the moment. She decided that the pennies were from heaven, a gift from God and our mom to be passed on. She would say, “I give pennies to people who are considerate, kind, or in need of a pick-me-up. I get their name and tell them when we all get to heaven, it is going to be filled with pennies and one of them will have your name on it.”

One total stranger made a point of reaching out to Adele afterwards, saying how he was moved by her simple act of kindness. He went home and told his wife how an angel made his day, lifting his mood; and he said he would be sure to pass the penny on. On another occasion, I witnessed her find a shiny, newly minted penny, and when she passed it on, she said, “Here’s a new one to brighten your day.”

A few weeks after Adele had left us, I met up with an old friend from the neighborhood. He had heard about Adele’s passing and, knowing her, said affectionately, “Your sister was something else. She was definitely a one in a million person.” No, I said, Adele was one of a kind. She’s the only person I know who would, on a snowy day, reach down into a cold gutter in the middle of a Connecticut winter to retrieve a penny and use it to pay it forward. She believed strongly that it was a gift, and it was meant for her to pass on to make someone’s day or put a smile on their face, while filling her heart with joy.

I recently came across a quote by self-help teacher Alan Cohen, “Don’t postpone joy until you have learned all your lessons; joy is your lesson.” Yes, in a way, I think my sister learned her lesson well.

Mike Angarola and his wife Ann have been vacationing on Amelia Island since their daughter started attending Jacksonville University in 2012. They always knew they would retire here, and since January 2024, that's been the case. Mike is a former small business owner, having run an Italian specialty store featuring many of his mom's recipes, sauces and Italian dishes.

If you have a story you'd like to share here in the Fernandina Observer - about a neighbor or friend or stranger or business that showed kindness, or about kindness and compassion in general - please contact Peggie Weeks at pegweeks@gmail.com