What a tender and funny tribute to your dad. Growing up surrounded in love that was never expressed in words but always there. Kalimera (good morning) to you from Greece (although it’s already past noon here). Just noticed you posted this 25 mins ago - a night owl 🦉.
You dragged me back to riding in the chevy pickup, me probably 11 and still fighting with my siblings. So I got dad to myself, and read the men's magazines he kept on the front seat and learned that Argosy was as good as anything in the dusty dead dark library. Then a couple of hours sitting with Uncle Gil, staring up at the portrait of a scion who was mysteriously glowering over the kitchen table,.
The hunting stories as good as London's and the Narraganset Gil had for dessert as sweet as huffing regular down at the Mobil station. See what you've done! Times Square is the devil's playground and I need to wallow with the masses.
Having attended my sixtieth high school class reunion this past summer, a reunion where much time was spent remembering classmates who are now gone and little spent contemplating the successes or failures of those still among us, I, like you, remember small events that give life meaning. Reunions are great places to contemplate one's life and lessons learned or passed by, what ifs in matters of early romances pondered. But what matters to me today is waking to a house that is filled with art (More than is really required.), and a mate with whom I make the most of what remains. I can't ask for more. Well, maybe there was that one that got away in high school and still attends our reunions.
Living near you, I thought I might point out a couple of things for folks like us with an attachment to things no longer useful. A teacher in my building has disposed of several things—a folding table, a 1930s floor lamp, and a piece of architectural decoration—through the Facebook page Buy Nothing. I put the stuff in the lobby, and each volunteer picked up their chosen object that very day! Then with all those outgrown clothes, especially the warm ones, you can leave them at a drop off on W. 97th for refugees from Venezuela who arrived without their winter wardrobes. The papers are the hardest, I find, but I'm sending some of my 1950s class photos to the historical society in my home county—documentation that single teachers managed classrooms of 40 kids or more without any help but the threat of the principal's office down the hall.
Your closing reminded me of a line I learned many, many years ago...about the Norwegian man that loved his wife so much, he almost told her. Telling this to my friends and relatives that live in Norway, they don't laugh, they nod in agreement.
My mother told us that she had gotten coal in her Christmas stocking when she was 8 and that she was devastated by it. My cousin and I, who have been working on our shared branch of our family trees, have found unsettling evidence that our grandparents were abusive to his late father and my late mother. Our grandparents apparently were heavy drinkers and the grandparents (one pair lived in the same building and the other lived next door) did much of the childcare. Our grandfather abandoned the family when my mother was 13 and her parents were divorced a few years later. She married my father when she was only 19 and he told me, after my mother's death, that her home situation had been so bad that he couldn't wait to get her away from it. My mother grew very close to my father's parents and was more visibly upset when they died than when her own parents died.
In December of 1952 I was in New York, in uniform of the US Army, awaiting to board a troop ship. I walked by the bar owned by Jack Dempsey. I went in and he was by the bar. I went up and shook his hand and he wished me well. I continued down the styreet and lady came up and gave me a ticket to the show "Top Banana" with Phil Silvers. The seat was right down front. Times Square has changed since then, but so have I.
Thanks for sharing the Nisse .... my children loved the Nisse and insist we have rice pudding on little Christmas eve when a hidden nut is put into one dish and waits for one lucky child to get an extra present.
What a tender and funny tribute to your dad. Growing up surrounded in love that was never expressed in words but always there. Kalimera (good morning) to you from Greece (although it’s already past noon here). Just noticed you posted this 25 mins ago - a night owl 🦉.
❤️
Garrison, I always enjoy your words. Thank you for adding connection and joy to your work. D
🔥🔥
You dragged me back to riding in the chevy pickup, me probably 11 and still fighting with my siblings. So I got dad to myself, and read the men's magazines he kept on the front seat and learned that Argosy was as good as anything in the dusty dead dark library. Then a couple of hours sitting with Uncle Gil, staring up at the portrait of a scion who was mysteriously glowering over the kitchen table,.
The hunting stories as good as London's and the Narraganset Gil had for dessert as sweet as huffing regular down at the Mobil station. See what you've done! Times Square is the devil's playground and I need to wallow with the masses.
Döstädning. Kindness. But I would call it life cleaning. Marie Kondo? A young twit.
Thanks, as always, for sharing these delightful stories. The cleaning can always wait.
Garrison,
Thank you you made me laugh today on my way to my oncologist, who I have known now for over 12 years.
Laughter is a pretty good medicine. We’ll see what else I need today.
Joe
Having attended my sixtieth high school class reunion this past summer, a reunion where much time was spent remembering classmates who are now gone and little spent contemplating the successes or failures of those still among us, I, like you, remember small events that give life meaning. Reunions are great places to contemplate one's life and lessons learned or passed by, what ifs in matters of early romances pondered. But what matters to me today is waking to a house that is filled with art (More than is really required.), and a mate with whom I make the most of what remains. I can't ask for more. Well, maybe there was that one that got away in high school and still attends our reunions.
Ny wife passed away 6 years ago but was, among other things, a prolific quilter. I live in a quilt museum and I love the legacy.
Heartwarming memories.
Living near you, I thought I might point out a couple of things for folks like us with an attachment to things no longer useful. A teacher in my building has disposed of several things—a folding table, a 1930s floor lamp, and a piece of architectural decoration—through the Facebook page Buy Nothing. I put the stuff in the lobby, and each volunteer picked up their chosen object that very day! Then with all those outgrown clothes, especially the warm ones, you can leave them at a drop off on W. 97th for refugees from Venezuela who arrived without their winter wardrobes. The papers are the hardest, I find, but I'm sending some of my 1950s class photos to the historical society in my home county—documentation that single teachers managed classrooms of 40 kids or more without any help but the threat of the principal's office down the hall.
Your closing reminded me of a line I learned many, many years ago...about the Norwegian man that loved his wife so much, he almost told her. Telling this to my friends and relatives that live in Norway, they don't laugh, they nod in agreement.
Thank you for writing this !
Sweet memory.
My mother told us that she had gotten coal in her Christmas stocking when she was 8 and that she was devastated by it. My cousin and I, who have been working on our shared branch of our family trees, have found unsettling evidence that our grandparents were abusive to his late father and my late mother. Our grandparents apparently were heavy drinkers and the grandparents (one pair lived in the same building and the other lived next door) did much of the childcare. Our grandfather abandoned the family when my mother was 13 and her parents were divorced a few years later. She married my father when she was only 19 and he told me, after my mother's death, that her home situation had been so bad that he couldn't wait to get her away from it. My mother grew very close to my father's parents and was more visibly upset when they died than when her own parents died.
I love it …. beautiful memories to keep you moving and reaching for more. Than you, always.
In December of 1952 I was in New York, in uniform of the US Army, awaiting to board a troop ship. I walked by the bar owned by Jack Dempsey. I went in and he was by the bar. I went up and shook his hand and he wished me well. I continued down the styreet and lady came up and gave me a ticket to the show "Top Banana" with Phil Silvers. The seat was right down front. Times Square has changed since then, but so have I.
Thanks for sharing the Nisse .... my children loved the Nisse and insist we have rice pudding on little Christmas eve when a hidden nut is put into one dish and waits for one lucky child to get an extra present.