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On that tragic Saturday afternoon, in the fall of 1946, my mom had asked my dad to take her grocery shopping. Dad had been an agreeable, spontaneous kind of guy who’d always been ready to help ‘his Jennie’ in every way, so I imagine that he’d put down the newspaper and said, “Okay Sugar, let’s go.”
On that tragic Saturday afternoon, in the fall of 1946, my mom had asked my dad to take her grocery shopping. Dad had been an agreeable, spontaneous kind of guy who’d always been ready to help ‘his Jennie’ in every way, so I imagine that he’d put down the newspaper and said, “Okay Sugar, let’s go.”
Once my parents slip into their coats; Dad will unlock and open our apartment’s front door. Then, Mom will bend down to hug and kiss me goodbye.
At that point: I’ll spin toward my daddy, and with a sunny, expectant smile, I'll reach up while he, bending forward to grab me up by my waist, laughingly swooshes me over his head. Flying up toward the ceiling, like a plane soaring high in the sky, I’ll squeal with delight. Then, catching me against the strength of his chest, Daddy will drop tender kisses on each of my cheeks before gently setting me down.
At that point: I’ll spin toward my daddy, and with a sunny, expectant smile, I'll reach up while he, bending forward to grab me up by my waist, laughingly swooshes me over his head. Flying up toward the ceiling, like a plane soaring high in the sky, I’ll squeal with delight. Then, catching me against the strength of his chest, Daddy will drop tender kisses on each of my cheeks before gently setting me down.
Once Dad, the spitting image of a young James Cagney, joins Mom on the third floor landing just outside our apartment’s front door, he'll throw me his customary, tongue-clicking-wink, and with a cheerful “See ya later, Dolly,” he’ll close and lock the door. As you can see, we were a merry trio, indeed.
On the other hand, I'll bet I was not squealing with delight about sharing the spotlight with the newest member of our family, whose birth had delighted everyone else. I mean, rare is the two year old, going on three, who shares anything, equally. And recently, that pedestal, which had been mine, got to feeling crowded ...
On the other hand, I'll bet I was not squealing with delight about sharing the spotlight with the newest member of our family, whose birth had delighted everyone else. I mean, rare is the two year old, going on three, who shares anything, equally. And recently, that pedestal, which had been mine, got to feeling crowded ...
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