I was at a cat show this weekend. It’s a long story, and involves my eleven year old cat, Frida, who also modeled for Harry Winston. I kid you not. She loved the attention, the petting, the fussing over her – and, as vain as all cats, she enjoyed the necklace. This photo was in the catalog for Harry Winston for that year, and I had obtained a copy of it for myself. No, I didn’t make any money for the sitting. I hadn’t expected to. It was a favor for a friend, and I was tickled to see her wearing a quarter of a million dollars worth of diamonds. Apparently, she enjoyed everyone.
I brought the catalog with me to the show. My dear friend who gave me Frida (for the sum of $1) was there, and I wanted her to see it.
The catalog had a pocket in the back cover. I found a folded piece of paper there. I took it out, unfolded it, and saw my father’s handwriting:
It’s been a rough time for you, I know, and I’m sending you a little something to help you along. There is more where that came from, as you know, and you only need to ask.
Your mother and I are proud of you.
I had to turn away, a hand to my eyes. I had not expected to find that. I remembered that terrible time, the economy at a halt, layoffs, no one hiring… I remembered a lot of things. Sternness when necessary, always there, always reliable. Strike him as I might, he always rang true. Perhaps the best gift I ever received.
I was remembering him just now, listening to this song:
The words to the second verse always speak to me:
If heaven was a town, it would be my town
Oh – on a summer day in 1985
And everything I wanted was out there waitin’
And everyone I loved was still alive
I thought of them as I folded the note and put it back in the pocket. Often, what was never dies, but still is…
|We always loved fireflies|