It just came to me in mid-morning, my work day well under way. I was at my desk… or do we call them work stations now?
It is an “L” shaped thing. My computer & the sliding drawer (really a shelf) occupies the small part of the “L”. The big part of the “L” is really a table with a shelf. And scattered there are the implements of my trade: notebooks listing wines, at least two note pads for scribbling notes, an order pad (plus my previous 15 or so pads so I can go back, if need be, to review an older order… computers crash — hard copy is a good thing), assorted business cards that I have accumulated over the years, a coffee cup that has pens and markers, a stapler and assorted bottles of wine… there as a reminder to sell — Yangarra Cabernet Sauvignon, or as in inspiration — Henri Clerc Chevalier-Montrachet ’02 (the latter is worth $200, and it is my thought that when I enter Heaven an Angel will hand me a glass of that while I wait for my papers to be processed… of course I could be going in the other direction and a Devil thru clenched teeth could be handing me a glass of White Zinfandel in a dirty glass).
And then there are the “mementos”… little things, personal things that have collected… a martini glass tree ornament (that is forever falling down)… a gift card from a few years ago “To Mars, Happy Valentine’s Day, Love Venus”… a bottle stopper from the Amalfi Coast… a Winnie the Pooh in a party hat that graced a Carvel cake from two years ago… a marble trivet “When in doubt add more wine”… a picture that Beth took of Zack and me at Yankee Stadium, empty “trophy” bottles (oh my… Chateau Margaux ’78… I opened that at our Grapes’ Holiday luncheon in December), my small CD collection (I just picked up Traffic’s John Barleycorn Must Die 2 bonus tracks added)… a thin volume by Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven… small pictures of Shaina, Suzy & Zack — each well out of date.
And so it goes. A “mini attic”. My little world. I spend more hours in a day in that “attic” than anywhere else. So maybe it is only natural that visual images are sometimes given birth there… ideas & memories emerge from my “mental attic”.
But this time the transposition of people and time just caught me by surprise. And so I have tried to piece together the reason why this memory came back to me in all its rich colour and vivid detail. What put my Niece Lisa into such sharp focus?
Well… part of it is sort of easy. Lisa and I have gotten into the habit of having long conversations… usually late at night if she happens to be in staying in Stamford. She is an extraordinary listener… and very patient. This is key when talking to me, because if something is troubling me, it can take a bit for me to set my points in order… Lisa waits, and then she responds… she responds from her heart, she responds from her gut, she responds with humor… she is very forward (sometimes to the point of being blunt), she has wonderful insight.
Our conversations are a treasure to me.
Did I say that Lisa could be forward? Sure. The writing was on the wall long ago. I think she was 4 or 5 when Lynn and I took her to see a Disney movie (I think it was the Jungle Book) at the Milford Cinema on the Post Road. As we walked down the aisle looking for seats, Lisa announced in a loud voice to the patrons already there, “I’m Jewish!”. Maybe she thought we were in a Synagogue? All I could think of was “Thank God this is not Berlin 1937!”
For those who don’t know… for all of her pride exhibited at such a young age, Lisa is not a Rabbi today. But if Rabbi’s had half the goodness that is part of Lisa today, then I think our Religion is in fairly safe hands.
And it is that goodness & caring that brought Lisa back home to visit our Aunt Tiny in the Hospital. Our Family in parts have all gone to see her… to be with her… to listen to her stories… for in spite of it all, she has remained alert.
And I, too… went to see her. Zack and I went together. I hadn’t seen Tiny since last summer when I danced with her at Lisa’s Wedding. I see her frail body, a fraction of the size from last year, sitting in the chair of her Hospital Room… for the first time looking her 95 years, looking like my memories of Mommie Soph in her weakened last condition. But I say to her, “It’s Jimmy and Zack…”, I touch her, “I don’t think we are going to be dancing today…”
She smiles at me, water wells in her eye, then she gives me a look (which I have seen before) which says it’s been a long time… you don’t pick up the phone. She doesn’t have to say it… I do it for her, “I know I don’t call or pick up the phone… I just never have & I know I am bad that way”.
And she nods and smiles, “Your Mother would say it was just the way you were.”
And then the stories unfold… Tiny and I sharing perspectives on different tales… really to benefit Zack… maybe to give better depth and dimension to things he has heard before.
And Tiny describes our “Family Club” that Uncle Morris created… The Good Time Charlie Club. Alan and Lynn have a Copy somewhere of the By Laws… and a proud Club it was, complete with an Anthem, a Map, an official Toast… and a slate of Officers.
And if I recall… Morris was President, my Father was Treasurer, Paula’s Husband Joe was Secretary, Paul was Sergeant at Arms, and I was the Vice President (this at the ripe age of 4 or 5… about the same age Lisa was when she announced to Milford that she was Jewish).
Tiny tells Zack that I was selected for this prestigious Office because I walked important! It took me years to understand Morris’ subtelty… that Vice President was nothing more than a ceremonial post… really insignificant in many ways… And walking import was correctly emblematic of the Office.
And Tiny smiled and said to Zack, “and he did… he really ‘walked important'”.
Perhaps it was that memory… of being at a young age when walking important was seen in my family as precocious… and I guess those thoughts had to be there when I pulled a memory of Lisa off the shelf.
No… not the memory of her in the movie theatre. Rather it was outside the house on Alston Avenue. It may have taken place before the time of the Movie, or maybe after. But her cheeks had a wonderful roundness to them so she was definitely little. And she was telling me that she just learned how to whistle… and she brings her lips together to form an “o”, and starts adjusting their position to change the notes… I could hear a piece of a melody, and then it would be lost in a space with just air blowing, to be returned again to a tune. This was serious stuff… you could tell by the earnest expression to her face, her eyes intent, her eyebrows brought forward, the softness of her cheeks slightly raised to the sky… perhaps to help float the song in the air. She was proud! Just as proud as the day in the Movie Theatre. And maybe just as proud as I was to walk important.
Listen to your melody Lisa. Don’t stop whistling…
