Memory can be a tricky thing; no matter how hard you try forcing retrieving it that one particular bit can be frustrating. Recently I have wanted to write about how I went from being a New Yorker to a Californian but the details have really been eluding me.

One memory that has surfaced recently was a visit I paid to my goombah, that’s the closest I can get to the actual word my mother used but this was my godfather and godmother. They lived in a nice house in the suburbs and I spent a week or two with them. My godfather was one of those guys that could plant a stick in the ground and it would grow. His yard was full of fruits and vegetables that flourished under his care. I remember trellis covered sidewalks with fat bunches of grapes hanging from the vines growing on them. Tomato plants fat with fruit, peppers and squash. I don’t know where but I suspect that the fig trees in my family’s yards all came from cuttings from his trees.

Their home was very quiet, having a younger and an older sister and an older brother my home usually had something going on, and we all ate together for most of the years I was growing up. My godmother was very concerned that I would get bored but I found staying with them very nice. I usually was able to find something quiet to keep myself occupied. I had brought a few books to read.

Holey Adam West’s underwear, when I think about this I am still about 12 years old, on the inside. I may be a whole lot more taciturn today but many of my habits, likes and dislikes were already in place back then. Yes I did get bigger and hairier and lately even bigger and less hairy but there are some things I don’t think I will ever outgrow. There is one bright side at least I stopped chasing twelve year old girls when I turned thirteen.


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