need oxygen!

I'm drowning in the past. Need oxygen (or Scotch). After six consecutive days walking in the park I just didn't want to go there on this Sunday morning. Too much weekend activity, a craft show, softball games....summer season is finally upon us....it arrived today! The wind seems to have stopped, it's hot, and that's the signal for summer. The park appeals to me only during the week when there fewer people and no events happening. So I decided it was time to clean out the garage (I'll get back to my desk tomorrow).  Even got Ron to join in. The garage (which hasn't had space for our second car for about two years) wasn't as bad as expected.  I found a couple of boxes with papers in them that had to be sorted through before tossing into the truck bed destined for the landfill. And so it began.

First there was the packet containing a brand new gray hairnet. I don't remember my mother ever wearing one but she must have considered it at some point (and why do I have it now?). I found my father's Teamsters' dues booklet. He had to get a chauffeurs license and join the union for the brief time he drove a taxi in New York City -- and although I can figure out what Stablemen did, what the heck were Helpers?

He paid dues from July 1939 to January 1941. Soon after that he worked for a car dealership and became their Service Manager. I found his business card, too. He wore a white jacket with his name embroidered on it -- like a chef. He was well-respected and was able to buy land and build a house in the northeast "country" of the Bronx where he and my mother lived for 40 years.

All of this is long gone, as he is, but I found myself detached from my current place in time and transported to another era, even before I was born, as forgotten family stories flooded back into my mind. I found my 8th grade graduation program and almost remembered all the names listed (oh, heart be still...Vincent G and John C (I think I still love you) and never mind that blond muscular hunk Frank who jilted me; found my First Communion certificate, a passport from 1987 (not my first, but oh, I looked so young -- that hair! gorgeous and curly -- what happened to it?). And a postcard from Rome from my soul sister/best friend who wrote it while sipping vino at a cafe near St. Peter's and said: I don't think I ever want to leave - Let's all move to Italy! This is the place to be...life is bella!

 

In time, we each found new love, changed our lives and moved to Taos, but didn't quite live in Italy as planned. She painted, I wrote, our spouses did their thing...and she died three years ago. Ah, life. The mysterio tremendo.