Who in their right mind would drive fourteen straight hours to see Werner?
Hmmm… not sure about that one. But add to the mix a slew of classmates, the Big
Apple, and my grandmother’s house, and you’ve got me on the highway heading
Nawth, this time with Willie Nelson on CD to accompany me on my long-distance
trek into the past. Music swells, title and co-stars roll.
(“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road
again.”)
Now Werner made a shrewd decision as Producer of this extravaganza in
following the tricks of the film industry. In order to make a sequel appeal to a
wider audience you’ve got to take the action to a new location, expand the cast
of characters, and add Spielberg-style special effects of dazzling magnitude.
And that’s what Werner did, and to the max. (Plaid sport coat and a Purple
Pirate’s T-shirt? Outta sight!)
So when Arlene Spark emailed me on Christmas Eve and said “CALL ME!” you
know I did, and in a nanosecond. Bless her heart, as she is generous and giving
beyond imagination. She encouraged me to join them for the festivities and to
stay at her house to boot. She would have a houseful, but with accommodations
warm and inviting.
I headed up to my attic (remember my attic?) and found a sleeping pad from
backpacking days in Santa Barbara, then stuffed the trunk of my car with all
manner of footgear and attire to weather the Northern cold and the snow that was
predicted for that evening. Snow! That alone could serve as a lure, as I have
not seen it or felt its presence very much in the six years I’ve been in the
South. Was I ever in heaven as I prepared for my trip into the past!
And I was transported back in time to the giggly school girl from
Tottenville High School with my best friend Linda Link, delighted to be within
the comforting companionship of old friends I’d known all my life, and who had
known my family when we were growing up together.
(“Yesterday’s wine, we’re yesterday’s wine, Aging with time, like yesterday’s
wine.”)
I had been so shy and reserved back then, but here and now I enjoyed the
self-confidence of maturity and self-esteem. Think of this – I slept with Werner
(oh, put those eyebrows down!), been asked to go steady, and yet still been
proclaimed “the same sweet girl” I was back then. Wow! In the span of four days
I had had more romance than in those four years in high school. Age does indeed
have its rewards.
While I was there a friend of mine called me and asked what the “sleeping
arrangements” would be, and I really laughed that he would still be wondering
about that. Sleeping arrangements? With a house packed to the rafters? Well,
grab a clear space on the floor and roll out the pad and blankets. Yes, you
could say that I had slept with Werner, as we had shared the space within the
same four walls. But I did not sleep WITH Werner, sleep being the operative word
here, so you can forget about passing those notes in Study Hall. It was more
like the arrangements in medieval times when guests of the manor all curled up
in front of the fire and hoped the snoring wouldn’t keep them awake.
(“Help me make it through the night.”)
The reunion luncheon was a great success, with all of us gathering as
classmates and friends. I finally got to spend precious time with Ellen Lutter
and have Jack Vokral sign my yearbook. And as daylight gave way to darkness, we
looked out the window of the Staten Island Hotel to an unexpected surprise. The
signboard of the hotel lit up with the bold proclamation in red neon,
Welcome Trumpet Tottenville Alumni Junction! It was
dazzling. Wow, even Spielberg and Hollywood
magic couldn’t top the effect that had when we saw it happen.
But the weekend wasn’t over yet, as those of us who had traveled so far
continued our journey by visiting old places we had known in childhood and
haunts from the past.
I could not resist the opportunity to search for my grandmother’s house,
where so much had taken place that I wrote about in “The Letter.” I drove around
the vicinity of where my mother’s family had lived and where I had spent the
first few years of my life, circling the unfamiliar grid of streets that were
now reconfigured to accommodate the Expressway and the entrance to the Bridge.
But as I made a turn onto Tompkins Avenue I was transported back in time,
skipping along with my mother, her sisters, and assorted cousins. I was filled
with that eerie sensation of recollection that I had experienced so often while
writing the story, knowing that Marie’s house was only a few blocks away. I
turned a corner and there it was, still tall and stately after all these years.
And in the front yard was the azalea bush the sisters had given Marie one year
on Mother’s Day. I sat in my car and let the tears flow freely, for all that had
happened in that house long ago, for all the love that was lost and found and
which lives on forever in my heart. (“Only in memories
remain and thru the ages I’ll remember, blue eyes cryin’ in the rain.”)
Lots more happened that weekend with Wernie. A special dinner party with
Jim and John Baur with a panoramic view of the Verrazano Bridge as a
breathtaking backdrop to the evening, delicious food and delectable
conversations with Arlene and Dan in their beautiful home, and a memorable trip
into Manhattan to spend many hours amid my favorite paintings at the
Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was all over too soon when the time came to
reverse my direction and start the journey back home.
(“Let me ride through the wide open country that I love.”)
Fourteen hours twice is a long time to spend droning along on a highway,
but I used that time to do something I had not been able to do on my own for
quite a while … to think, reflect, ponder, reassess, and make plans that would
alter my life once again, that would recapture the warmth and comfort I had felt
with my classmates and my memories of my family.
Before I had left home a friend of mine had said that he hoped my holiday
was all that I wished for. I thought long and hard about that one, what was it I
really wished for? And I knew with absolute certainty that what I wanted most
was to rekindle a relationship I had lost on that rocky path called Life, to
rebuild a bridge that will span into the future, to someone who means so very
much to me. (“You were always on my mind, you were
always on my mind.”)
Now I was eager to compress the miles and get home fast. Damn! Where was
that old Porsche when I really needed it! Hmmm … wonder if the Camry is up to the
test … Suffice to say, the return trip took less than thirteen hours. Hot Mama
has a heavy foot, especially when the road ahead is bright and filled with
possibilities and overactive hormones. But that’s another story …
(“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road
again.”)Credits roll, fade to black.
The reunion luncheon was a great success, with all of us gathering as
classmates and friends. I finally got to spend precious time with Ellen Lutter
and have Jack Vokral sign my yearbook. And as daylight gave way to darkness, we
looked out the window of the Staten Island Hotel to an unexpected surprise. The
signboard of the hotel lit up with the bold proclamation in red neon,
Welcome Trumpet Tottenville Alumni Junction! It was
dazzling. Wow, even Spielberg and Hollywood
magic couldn’t top the effect that had when we saw it happen. 
Now I was eager to compress the miles and get home fast. Damn! Where was
that old Porsche when I really needed it! Hmmm … wonder if the Camry is up to the
test … Suffice to say, the return trip took less than thirteen hours. Hot Mama
has a heavy foot, especially when the road ahead is bright and filled with
possibilities and overactive hormones. But that’s another story …
(“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road
again.”) Credits roll, fade to black.