I’m in a place that I can go when I think of people I love. This is the place of memory and like a fine old movie, I can run and rerun these memories and see new things each time. You have a much greater selection from your life than I do, but since our lives did intersect for a time, I will run a few of mine with you.
“Fish on!” the day you caught one of those big swimming up-river salmons in Watertown.
Making venison chile with the meat we had from your deer-hunting, the recipe I still use from the New York Times Magazine. Oh, yummy. Nancy, making corn muffins from a package. Peeling peaches and eating peach crisp. The boys there too.
Those donuts I envied your eating that were so naughty and good. Cigars smoked outside on one or another deck in Syracuse or at the lake or on our porch in RI. (Did Steve teach you that nasty habit?) Even before the lake house was built, staying in the trailer. Lying down on the grass to watch the stars, the Pleides, throbbing in the sky, in August. There goes a shooting star. A bonfire lit the night regularly. Weren’t there fireflies too? Those stars…. Days at the track, eating at our favorite place across from the track, counting our winnings and our losses.
Meeting your children and your wife once en route to Syracuse.
Knowing about your connecting to the family in St. Louis, where you were the oldest of six instead of the youngest. Knowing about your work and imagining the good work you did. Knowing about your children and imagining the joy they have brought you. Knowing you, a joy to me and to Steve. New Year’s Eves. Eating at The Barracks. What a lovely movie! I think I see us laughing. And Bianca, my granddaughter, just a toddler, is even there with us at Horse Neck Beach.
Dear Ricky,
ReplyDeleteI’m in a place that I can go when I think of people I love. This is the place of memory and like a fine old movie, I can run and rerun these memories and see new things each time. You have a much greater selection from your life than I do, but since our lives did intersect for a time, I will run a few of mine with you.
“Fish on!” the day you caught one of those big swimming up-river salmons in Watertown.
Making venison chile with the meat we had from your deer-hunting, the recipe I still use from the New York Times Magazine. Oh, yummy. Nancy, making corn muffins from a package. Peeling peaches and eating peach crisp. The boys there too.
Those donuts I envied your eating that were so naughty and good. Cigars smoked outside on one or another deck in Syracuse or at the lake or on our porch in RI. (Did Steve teach you that nasty habit?) Even before the lake house was built, staying in the trailer. Lying down on the grass to watch the stars, the Pleides, throbbing in the sky, in August. There goes a shooting star. A bonfire lit the night regularly. Weren’t there fireflies too? Those stars….
Days at the track, eating at our favorite place across from the track, counting our winnings and our losses.
Meeting your children and your wife once en route to Syracuse.
Knowing about your connecting to the family in St. Louis, where you were the oldest of six instead of the youngest. Knowing about your work and imagining the good work you did. Knowing about your children and imagining the joy they have brought you.
Knowing you, a joy to me and to Steve. New Year’s Eves.
Eating at The Barracks. What a lovely movie! I think I see us laughing. And Bianca, my granddaughter, just a toddler, is even there with us at Horse Neck Beach.
Love,
Hilary and Steve