Goodbyes
We are all always saying goodbyes, aren’t we? And they come in all sorts of ways, don’t they? They are part of the cycle of our lives.
Here are a few that have crossed my mind these past few days.
All of my Christmas decorations are now packed up in big Tupperware bins. (Though It is well known by more than a few that I keep my gorgeous, fake tree up year round (helps my happy) accompanied by a sketchy looking, life-sized Santa Claus standing guard next to the tree (which simply amuses me)…) Everything else is soon off to storage. The remaining strange, sort of sad remnant is a group of Christmas Cards, seven in number, addressed to a couple of different families that apparently used to live here. Now, I’ve here for almost two years and have never heard of these folks and these cards just appeared in my mailbox a few weeks ago. They all are nicely addressed with prepared labels. Obviously, the senders have lists. They cards are from South Carolina, Chicago, Boston, Atlanta, Arizona. All have return addresses. I have no forwarding addresses. I will have to simply write on each envelope ‘Return to Sender/No Forwarding Address Known’. The intended recipients have been lost. This, it seems to me is a Good Bye of sorts. friends, acquaintances, family(?) who knows. Just vanished? We will never know. Will they?
Just down the street from me there was for a long time a big grocery store with a little independent liquor store just to its side, at best a minor appendage next the corporate muscle. I liked giving my business to the nice couple who ran the liquor store. They were from India, lovely, sweet, quiet people and over time, we would share a nice word or quick jest as I bought a bag of whatever. But then the big corporate lost its way and went bust and the building sat empty for a very long time. I would regularly ask the couple, referring the big vacant space, “Any word?” And they would always reply, “We have heard nothing.” And then one day, I renewed my inquiry and they shook their heads in unison and lamentation and said, “We have been given a 30 day notice to leave. We do not know what to do.” Their sad eyes were downcast. It was terribly sad. I went back a few more times as they were having a fire sale to reduce the inventory. I bought a lot of jugs, feeling like I was spitting in the wind and of course, I could not change their trajectory and one more time, I went back and the place was empty and they were gone. The building has now been ‘upfitted’ for some sort of custom, private offices but it is apparent that Covid has knocked them of course. The property remains extensively vacant and I will admit I am glad for this. The new owners, the big shot developers hurt those nice people with their piggishness. Karma can be a bitch. I have never seen those nice people again. I think of them every time I drive by. I always will. An eternally unfinished good bye.
A few days ago in the late afternoon, there was a knock on my door and a lovely gal that I had gotten know over the last few years had come to visit. She was a good friend, smart and self-effacingly funny. She used to visit regularly and we were joking around one afternoon and I had an inspiration of sorts and later modeled her as one of my lead characters in my next book which will be out in the spring. In YOU HAVE YOUR WAY, she is GiGi Fay Erin, crack insurance fraud investigator. She knows I have done this and read the initial rough draft wherein she appears and skillfully plies her expertise.I invited her in and asked, “What’s up?” She said she had come to say good bye, that she was leaving town for good. She was restless, needed a new start and outlook, felt boxed in and disappointed by a lot of things. It was a brief visit, a melancholy visit. She sat for a few minutes but did not linger. As she went out the door, we (Damn COVID!) bumped elbows and I wished her all the luck in the world and for good fortune and continued good health to find her and accompany her. She nodded and walked away and down the sidewalk in the dipping dusk. A formal good bye. Once the book is out, I do have her cell so hopefully, I can get a copy to her. I have no expectation our paths will ever cross again.
As I write this, we have just said goodbye to our current sitting President. Some will miss him. Some will not. I will leave it at that. The recent upheavals have left us all shaken and worried and dismayed and for many, many different reasons. A new President has taken his place.This is a Constitutionally mandated good bye. This is a good bye ordered by law. So be it. So must it be.
As I finish this, word has come that at 93, the great baseball man, the great Dodger manager, Tommy Lasorda has died. He has said his good bye to us. He has left us. He was funny and fiery and damn good at what he did and did for a very, very long time. So I will finish with a little story that hopefully will bring some levity to this piece. A few years ago, I was lucky enough to attend a little Hot Stove League gathering up in beautiful Southern Pines, North Carolina at a pretty snappy assisted living facility. As we snacked on peanuts and popcorn and hot dogs and Crackerjacks and sipped on some cold beers as well, two old-timers, one a Dodger and one a Brave told wonderful and funny and entertaining stories of the ‘good old days’ in professional baseball and here is one they told about Tommy Lasorda.
The Dodgers had won a big game and Tommy had gone out to celebrate with his coaches and some sports writers and friends .
It was fair to say that they had all had more than a few.
Tommy came home late and was a little wobbly.
His wife, a lovely lady from Greenville, South Carolina opened the door for him and without anger, told him to sit down on he sofa with her.
He did. She looked at him sweetly and with only a bit of reproach observed, Tommy, I think you love baseball more than me.”
Tommy thought for a moment and then replied, “But honey I love you more than football and basketball!”
Remember, the only constant in life in Change. Carpe Diem!