Reference no: EM133660287

The death of one's spouse can sometimes bring about severe personality changes, particularly in the elderly.

I've lived in the house next to the Carusos for twenty years, since I was three. I remember fondly the sweet old couple who used to live next door. George Caruso was a shy, quiet man who kept mostly to himself. His wife, Assunta, on the other hand, was full of life and great fun to be around. And we were quite a bit. Many an afternoon there would be half a dozen kids in her backyard, helping her pull weeds, pick grapes, or shell peas. We used to take turns mowing her lawn and trimming her hedges. On days when her grandsons, Rodney and David, would visit, she'd have us all in the kitchen for homemade pizza and lemonade. She never seemed to get tired of us, and we felt the same about her. In fact, she got along great with all the neighbors. There were a lot of old couples on the street then, and they used to walk to church together on Sundays. The women often took shopping trips together to Shaker Square. Mrs. Caruso was always involved with some activity in the neighborhood. But most important in her life was Mr. Caruso, her silent partner.

George died suddenly one day in 2003. From that time on, Mrs. Caruso was like a different woman. For a while, she simply shut herself off from everyone around her. But soon she became known as the "Witch of 115th Street."

All of a sudden, or so it seemed, the kids were like poison to her. Even when they offered help, she just yelled at them to get away from her yard. She was very self-sufficient now. She mowed the lawn and pulled the weeds with a devilish passion. Not even in the dead of winter would she let her grandsons help her. They used to come over and volunteer to do her shopping and shovel the walk. She would send them away and go out herself and shovel until the concrete shone through. As one would guess, visits from her family became less and less frequent.

It was about this time that she also began doing her shopping alone, ignoring the long friendships she had with the other elderly women on the street, who were now, like herself, widows also. She no longer went to church, either. She had grown bitter and cold, but most of all she just wanted to be alone.

And that's how she died last fall - alone. It was a Tuesday evening, and her garbage cans weren't out front. That's when I got suspicious. She was very meticulous about her trash, hauling it from her garage to the lawn every week without fail. I ran to her back porch to find only the screen door closed. I yelled and banged, then went home and called her on the phone. After five tries and no answer, I called the police. They arrived just as her daughter was making her biannual visit. Minutes later, Lydia's screams confirmed my suspicions. And I cried, because once I had loved Mrs. Caruso as if she were my grandmother, and it hurt to remember the day I began to hate her.

1. Is this a narrative or comparison-contrast essay? Explain your answer.

2. "But most important in her life was Mr. Caruso, her silent partner." What does the author mean by this?

3. Why did Mrs. Caruso become known as the "Witch of 115th Street"?

4. What conclusion can you draw according to this: "Minutes later, Lydia's screams confirmed my suspicions."

5. Why do you think that Mrs. Caruso's character underwent a dramatic change?