JR1
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...The last dance at the prom. ...the endless summer. ...last goodbyes to hometown friends with no idea that I would never see them again. ...the first dusty smell of autumn, the new uncertainty of adulthood, and the nostalgic realization that my childhood home as it was now belonged to the past. ...the first apartment over a bar on Cherry St and the old '47 Chevy. ...heady wedding vows spoken in a mindless and dreamy daze. ...the first new car and the whirlwind honeymoon followed by a light speed jump to fatherhood. It all comes, and goes, too quickly, Norma, until one day, at an age I always associated with my grandparents, I remember it all in detail--remember it as if it were not me, but rather as if it were some character in a story. ...a story whose raconteur escapes my memory. I am now a caricature of my father and my grandfather, burnishing the residue of luster from my past, sharing anecdotes of joy that resides mostly in my mind and assembling a legacy only somewhat more precious than a brass rooster. Thanks for the nostalgia... Jim out. |
