Haunted House

So my dear friend Mirta had an aunt from Jersey who had some interest in buying Mom's condo. We picked up this lady, and headed north in my man car. When I hear "aunt," I tend to think kindly and elderly. This lady was rather young and attractive... Anyway, it was my first visit to the Kings Point condo since Mom died. Wifey asked if it was tough for me -- not at all. Had it been the house where I grew up on Long Island -- maybe -- but I was never attached to this place. It was just a place to stash my stuff over 4 school vacation summers and winter breaks. But Mom lived there, happily, for 33 years (would have been 34 if she didn't move to the nursing home last May). I fetched the ceramic Vietnamese elephant table that belongs to my sister Sue. She bought it when she was working for an import company in NYC in the late 60s. My parents brought it to Florida when they moved in '79 --tightly wrapped in bubble wrap -- and it sat in Mom's living room all this time. I told Sue I would keep it until she shipped it to California, but she told me it wasn't likely to happen. So now it's looking at me as I type this... I told Mirta to pick out some tchotchkes for herself -- to remember Mom. She took a few glass pieces and an old glass kitchen lamp that hung over Mom's kitchen table -- also a LI import. It was held on the wall by 4 screws -- I remembered hanging it with Dad, a man never known for his mechanical aptitude. But somehow it never came crashing down over more than 3 decades. There was also a used wheelchair I had bought from Craig's List, for Mom to use when she visited. Mirta knew a man who runs a clinic and would put it to use. My sister Trudy had found some letters Wifey and the Ds sent to Mom, as well as my first baseball glove. She left it in the chair. The glove, a boy's sized Spalding, brought back memories. My parents bought it for me when I was 7. It lasted through 4 Levittown Little League seasons, until my growing hands required a replacement. When I was 9, I made a diving grab of a sharply hit grounder hit bewteen my first base spot and second. I fired the ball to the second baseman, scrambled to my feet, and caught the throw for the completion of the double play. The crowd, such as they were -- roared. It was my shining moment of childhood baseball. The glove was stored in an outside closet, and smells heavily of mold. It's airing out on my fronto porch --um, loggia. If the stink clears, the glove will make it to my sports watching room, along with Orange Bowl memorabilia. If not, it'll make it to the trash. I took Mirta and La Tia to Grammercy Deli for lunch. It was the go to restaurnant for Mom and me over the final years of my visits to her. The food was great, as usual, and the Mexican busboy loved having guests to speak Spanish to -- the clientele is typically ONLY Northeastern Jews, like much of West Delray, Boca, and Boynton. Before I lfet, I walked to the mail box to post a note about my Mom's passing, and to give my sister's email address to anyone wanting to buy it. The bulletin board had a clearly worded sign: "NO ONE (THIS MEANS YOU) MAY POST ANY NOTICES HERE WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF THE CAPRI D BOARD." I pinned my note directly over it. Ah, the condo commandos. They used to hassle me for washing my car under the meager shade of the clipped trees, and complain when my friends and I used the pool. My Dad loathed that. So this final act of civil disobedience was the final FU to Kings Point for Dad -- he never liked the place either. I have no doubt the sign was taken down already. Also, as I walked back, there was Lil Krieger sitting in a wheelchair in front of her unit. She's ancient, like Mom was. She asked about her. I told her Mom had died. "But no one told us!" Well of course not, Lil! I told Lil she was the sole remaining pioneer --the group who moved into Building D when it was first built --in 1979. Her husband Irving died long ago. I wished Lil well. The era is nearly over.