It’s been a while since I’ve stopped by here. Things have been pretty static, not too much to say beyond the incredible stress caused by the petulant boy dictator and his minions so I have taken to spending a lot of time listening to music, reading, living in virtual reality. Many days are taken up doing various boxing routines on Supernatural to loosen up the old bones and muscles and they followed up with multiple rounds of virtual golf on many of the great courses of the world. No longer having to punch the clock, holidays come and go without any need for additional celebration or excitement since there is nothing to “break” from. President’s Day, Memorial Day, July 4th are just “other days” where there is no mail and additional crowds. Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter are a bit more celebratory but being so far from family both blood and chosen dulls the extra special nature of those as well.

Labor Day weekend, though always elicits a bit of a different feeling for me. When I was much younger and my kids were just coming into their own as people, we would be invited out to spend the holiday weekend in Shirley, Long Island (all the way to exit 68 on the LIE …quite the trip from CT) at seasonal home of some friends my then wife, Doreen, had grown up with and who embraced me as family when we married. It was truly the example of “mi casa es tu casa”. There were no locks on the doors, you slept wherever you could (as the only folks at that time with two young kids we got the royal treatment and had a bedroom to ourselves), there were smiles, a lot of loud volume conversations, swimming, clamming, cooking, jokes, drinks, poker games and other card games that went through most of the night, and always more ringing laughter. There were always one of two things playing on the TV…The now defunct Jerry Lewis Telethon and the US Open Tennis tournament. The saddest time was packing up and leaving to go back to the Sturm and Drang of life (and, of course, trying to time it so that a two hour trip did not morph into a 4 hour event though that was always pot luck).

Every year, for a very long time and especially now living 1000 miles from the aforementioned family and friends, Labor Day weekend is still highlighted by watching the Us Open over multiple days. Every time I watch it, I am, at least in my mind, transported back to Shirley, Long Island, and the time spent with Frank, Eleanor, Laurie, Linda, and Susie Lunardi at their home. I still well up with joy, that is mixed in with sadness…Frank and Eleanor left us for a journey to another astral plane years ago but that doesn’t dull the memories of all that went on. Doreen and I went our separate ways more than 25 years ago, Sue and I now live in South Carolina (at least for the moment), and I’ve only seen Laurie and Linda and their partners two or three times since.

Susie became a fabulous dentist and even though she was based in the Bronx, I spent many years under her wonderful care so I did see her at least once a year (though she would have preferred at least two per year). I grew up with a dental phobia, and it took all of her patience (and some nitrous oxide…aka “laughing gas”) just to bring me back into the dental care fold…Beyond her profession, she spent untold hours rescuing cats and dogs…kindness and empathetic in a way that seems to have been lost by many today.

Earlier this afternoon, while watching the Open, my phone rang, and I actually answered it (something I rarely do unless I’m expecting a call). It was my son Drew, who was calling to tell me that Susie had lost her battle with a very aggressive form of you know what….and was now rejoining her mom and dad on their collective journey. While it was not a total shock, that news is never less than heartbreaking. Growing older, while having many unpleasant side effects, is a privilege, and increasingly it is a reminder that while enjoying said privilege along with it comes waves of sadness when anyone who has brought joy to your life no longer has their flame lit. This is one of those jarring cases…While it has been many years since I have seen Susie, I can still “see” her in my mind, and hear her. I will miss her and I hope that this house agnostic is 100% wrong and that she is hugging Frank and Eleanor and playing some cards while watching the tennis from above.

Best way to end this with the closing verse from Jackson Browne’s song that became the title of this piece it, too, goes back over 50 years. (been listening to it as I’m writing)

“But the angels are older
They can see that the sun’s setting fast
They look over my shoulder
At the vision of paradise contained in the light of the past
And they lay down behind me
To sleep beside the road till the morning has come
Where they know they will find me
With my maps and my faith in the distance
Moving farther on“