Looking through a pile of photos of long ago happy events brought mixed emotions. I concentrated on the positive and enjoyed seeing everyone looking young and healthy. Memories long forgotten were stirred and enjoyed; for example, an Easter Sunday photo of many yesteryears ago. Posing beside our car my mother had on her chic new hat sporting a veil covering half her face. Her ensemble’s main focus was her birthday present from dad – a gorgeous silver fox stole. It was draped with ever so elaborate carelessness around her shoulders with the four legs and tail dangling in front. The pointed jaw, fitted with a clasp, was gnawing on one of its hind legs and its life-like, beady eyes of glass stared hungrily at her corsage. With her pearls and white gloves, mom was ready for any competition at church; although, of course, that was the furthest thing from her mind. I was in a suit and tie with a DA hair style (ask a senior) and my sister was wearing a poodle skirt with blouse and sweater. All Father Knows Best correct. Dad’s insistence that photos need direct sunlight meant serious squinting all around. As usual, the dog came out looking like he belonged on a pet calendar and the rest of us like the “before” models in a Botox advertisement.
The increased pleasure I got because of the date and event notation on the back urges me to remind you to annotate your pictures for the benefit of future viewers. Furthermore, the most meaningful ones might be given to the relative most appreciative of family history. Naturally, this should be done only after a thorough purging. We wouldn’t want to upset Aunt Edith with the notation, “Blacks Beach ‘92 hairy beast three times.”
A house of ill repute
When the reputation of a neighborhood is high, buyers, especially those new to the city, often fail to check further when a house there is offered at a bargain price. A 60-year-old friend surprised me recently by buying a house after decades of apartment living. Never one to be bothered by facts or figures, he provided only a few vague financial or personal details. Photos soon followed of bulls, matadors and sombreros fighting for wall space with photos of Cantinflas, Dolores del Rio, Ricardo Montalban and a nude Ramon Navarro over the mantle. All this 1940s Mexican decor made one eye-popping casita bonita. In Iowa! Actually, it looked quite fun; although his being Swedish made one wonder.
When I arrived for a visit, all became clear when Manuel (6’3” and 30) opened the door. At first, all went well, but while I was being shown la cocina, a siren shattered the air and my eardrums, rattling the windows and causing a burp in my pace maker. Surely it signaled nothing less than the Second Coming. But no, they laughingly explained it was the usual fire trucks from the station just behind the house and a few doors from the hospital’s emergency entrance. “It’s really fun and exciting, especially on weekends with all the parties,” said Manuel. It seems Fraternity Row is one street over. My friend quickly changed the subject to what a great deal the bank gave him on the foreclosure (surprise, not).
Finally, after several near heart attacks, I got through the weekend and returned home, thankfully a rental from which I can easily move. Dear friends, if you are considering buying, check the entire neighborhood on different days, times and weekends. Don’t be blinded by a super deal. Remember what mother said, “If it sounds too good to be true….”
