‘I feel in society you have got to do something to justify your existence.’

Vola Mitchell and her husband bought a house in La Mesa 36 years ago, raised two children there and operated a hardware store turned gift shop in East San Diego. When the shop neighborhood on University Avenue changed from white and middle-class to a melting pot of Asians and blacks, Idaho-native Vola--who had never spoken to a black man--first was fearful but soon befriended the newcomers. She found an interest in cultures and visited Europe when her daughter and son-in-law Larry traveled the world on bicycles. Daughter Barbara’s book on the odyssey was almost due in the stores when Vola’s life began turning inside out. A series of losses began with a tragedy on her 68th birthday. Barbara, 33, was killed on a bicycle near her Santa Barbara home. The store, where Vola had worked for 25 years and which had sustained her in her grief, burned down within a year. Her husband died two months later. Then her mother died just before Christmas. Now, at 71, she feels she is starting over. Language, women’s studies and exercise classes fill her time and she has learned how to tend the yard and remodel the house. Soon she will take a trip to China. She hasn’t lost her positive attitude or her ebullience, and although she no longer predicts happy endings, she can’t abandon her basic philosophy. “If you expect things are going to be right, they are going to be right.” She was interviewed by Times staff writer Nancy Reed and photographed by Barbara Martin.

I just tell myself, there is so much in this world to see and do, and you’re here, so you might as well take advantage of it. And I feel like, hey, I am going to enjoy myself along the way. When the pain hits me, I usually sit down and study Spanish.

If somebody has a tragedy and loses somebody, they want to talk about it. After my mother died, I didn’t have anyone. It helped to make notes of my thoughts when I was going through it just to get it out.

In the store people would talk to you if they didn’t know you well. They kind of feel free to just unload everything. My husband never could understand that, he couldn’t get over the stuff people will tell you. I said, well, I understand it. They think “you are not going to judge me” like friends might.

Some were so lonely. I used to think, oh, I don’t think I could face that. When I heard what somebody had gone through, I would think how lucky I am. A lot of people say, “Why me? It isn’t fair.”

But every single day terrible things happen to people. Then you think, well, why should I be spared? All these other people are suffering.

In Buddhism, I think, it says you can’t be shot by an arrow twice. The tragedy is when you are shot the first time, but then when you start to say, “Why me?” you are shooting yourself again.

Which is kind of true. You have to accept it. You don’t want to, but the reality is there.

When Barbara died, the thing I thought of the most was how lucky that Jim and I had each other. I was really grieving for Larry.

I have all the letters that Larry got because of Barbara’s book. He said he couldn’t bear to read them again ever, but I keep them all. When I read it I think the world has lost a lot. Everybody that she touched--she made everybody feel upbeat and happy.

I try to relive the pleasant experiences. I can hear her voice. I just sort of relax and think of the funny things she would say instead of wishing she were here.

But I am a people person and I have to get out. After Jim died, I said, well, what I have got to do is, say, this phase of my life is gone, now I have to go in another direction.

I feel in society you have got to do something to justify your existence or why should you be here? I have this interest in trying to further people’s understanding of each other. I study Spanish--maybe I could work with minorities in some volunteer type work.

I get a real lift out of learning something new.

A friend of mine told me about the Over 60 Club at San Diego State. I found out that you have to go through the same things as a freshman--you have to get your grades and get your tests and all that jazz--I had to be accepted. I hadn’t gone to college.

It has been a lifesaver. I wanted to do something different, and I wanted to get up to date. So there was this class called “Sex, Power and U.S. Politics.” I like politics--Jim and I would sit and talk politics a lot. I like the experience of listening to what the young people have to say. The young woman who teaches it is just fantastic. And she reminds me of Barbara. I can just sit there and watch her.