The Sad Clown

 

Thanks, Dave

I've posted that picture before. I thought I'd tell you more about it.

The frame was a very thoughtful gift from Dave Torromeo, who texted me before I got it to tell me to be honest if I didn't like it.

I loved it. He said it was inspired by another picture that I had posted but I immediately thought of the one I titled, "The Sad Clown."

Before I get to the story, I should mention that memories flow every day since Mom died on Sept 4 but things were a little harder today because her car was taken. Her license plates -- a tag that my father first got in the 1950s -- are off the car. It's probably the first time those plates have been off a car for even only a few hours in over 60 years.

I'm relieved that the transaction is over. I'm sad the car is gone.

Now, to the picture.

It was 2017 and Kristy's family was moving out of their rented house in Fayetteville for a new house in Stedman, a small community roughly 10 miles outside of town.

I offered up any help if needed. Kristy and Hector were grateful for the set of hands. Three sets, in fact, would come from New York, as Mom and my sister Laura joined me.

We thought we'd drive down on Friday for a long weekend but, after talking with Kristy and Hector, we decided we would get a head start on Thursday and stop in Maryland before hitting the road before daylight the next day.

Laura, Mom and I wanted to keep moving and keep costs low, by leaning on trusty Wawa for food, fuel, and restroom breaks. We piled into Mom's Toyota on Thursday night, fought traffic to Elkton, MD and jumped on the road first thing Friday.

Washington, DC traffic (and Baltimore also) were as bad as advertised on that rainy morning. I could hear my father saying, "I told you so" as I drove. The rain crushed us at times through Virginia into the top of North Carolina. It rained so hard at times that I pondered pulling off the road. The only problem was the side of the road wasn't easy to see.

Then, almost magically, it stopped raining and this late March day turned almost unbearably hot. The temperature had risen some 40 degrees since leaving Elkton that morning.

Our decision to get to Fayetteville earlier on Friday was fortuitous as Kristy and I grabbed the U-Haul and got to work on filling it. Hector was picked up from the airport, as he had been away on work. Kristy, Hector, Laura, me, my niece Laura and Kelly, along with the various kids commenced on packing that truck before shutting it all down for the night.

We jumped to it on Saturday morning (no Waffle House -- we had work to do!) and got ready for the first of four truckloads. I felt like my dad, serving as the trusty truck driver (I can't carry his work boots, for what it's worth).

It was warm again, so I was in shorts. Mom had done a lot of inside stuff -- packing up the kitchen and things like that. There was no heavy lifting for her at that point (she would turn 80 in a few weeks). So, decked out in jeans with a sweater and a plaid vest, she set up a camping chair in the front yard as kids and adults alike worked on filling the truck.

The kids at one point, had some kind of balloons that somehow wound up in her hand as she sat in the chair. It was her way of supervising and commiserating while we all huffed and puffed carrying things about.

It struck me as funny but I said nothing.

I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture without any fuss.

She was the local woman, maybe a little down on her luck, who plopped down in a chair and watched life go by as she hoped for someone to stop by for a chat and maybe bring her a fresh cup of hot coffee.

With milk and three Sweet 'N Low.

She was the character -- harmless but a little, well, unique.

She was the neighborhood sad clown.

I showed the others and they all laughed. Then I showed her.

She laughed that laugh. She got it.

So when Dave's kind gift showed up, I knew I had to make a print of The Sad Clown and put it in the frame. Others agreed.

The rest of the move went mostly without a hitch. Kristy and Hector have always been great hosts. They let me feel like their house is truly mine. I slept (not well) on a deflated air mattress that night and we went to Raleigh on Sunday to the North Carolina State Flea Market before dinner.

Oh and Waffle House for breakfast, as well as on Monday as we started a long drive back to New York.

One more funny story about that. Mom was notorious for her dislike of seafood but also known for her "Whatever you want" approach when it came to food. In truth it was whatever we wanted ... up to a point.

The long day was wearing on Laura and I as we got to Delaware. I texted her while sitting at a traffic light.

Please note she was sitting next to me in the car.

"Joe's Crab Shack?"

She was thrilled and intrigued.

The key was to show my mother that there was a hamburger or something she would like.

We perused the menu. Bingo.

"We've decided on dinner," one of us said, united in our treachery. "We're going to Joe's Crab Shack in Wilmington and they have burgers. We're going to enjoy seafood."

She went and enjoyed.

A good sport to the end as we ate and carried on back home.

Exhausted but another experience in the memory bank.

*****

This post reminds me that I'm sort of lousy at thank you cards and so on. I try to write it electronically but I probably come up empty. But -- please -- let this serve as a "THANK YOU" to the many people who wrote, visited, called, donated to the American Heart Association, and have checked in since Sept 4. Maybe I've said it and maybe I haven't but we're truly grateful. I've also long believed that it's after the funeral is over that is some of the most important time and there have been many people who have followed up with a simple "How are you doing?"

I can't say with enough certainty how much it means to me.