Chapter 12

I just happened to check the clock on my computer. 9:11pm. I do this morning and night. I remind myself about 9/11 just by looking at a clock. In the car. Walking into an office.

I cannot go there at this moment but I know how we all were affected by those events on that horrible day.

I will note this one to follow up on as I know there are stories to relate to in my memory banks.

I mentioned how we were finishing up our school year in North Tonawanda. With the impending trip I think all of us kids were excited, and scared, as to what was going to happen. Mom and dad were fighting less and less. I sometimes can see that they were barely interacting at all.

My brother probably had more knowledge as being older he was more aware of things. I was 10. I was totally clueless and carefree.

I do not know if it was a concious or sub-concious thing. This time I didn't ask for, or pursue, getting any list of names of my classmates. Or friends in the neighborhood.

I know there were kids I hung out with. Kids that played together in our little neck of the woods.

School finished up. We packed up our few prized possessions. Some clothing. And mom drove us all to Allentown, Pennsylvania.

The summer of 1969.

My Uncle and Aunt ran a cemetary. They, and their 4 kids, lived on a house right off the main entrance into the enclave.

I can picture eating meals at their large kitchen table. Sleeping in an upstairs bedroom in that lovely house. Playing outside from morning to night. Sometimes following the workers as they prepared a grave site or cleaned up after a recent burial.

I know we were warned to stay away from the mining holes (there were 3 of them) as they were filled with water. Beneath them was a dangerous mix of old equipment and loose boulders.

I know they purchased a swimming pool not long after our arrival. I think my brother had shown great interest in those water filled pits.

Years later my brother would nearly drown in a similar, larger, quarry hole. We learned about his many close calls during his funeral. He really did have 9 lives. I just wish he had found a way to have 10.

Fire-flies (lightning bugs for others), the 4th of July, landing on the moon. All those wondrous events were happening that summer.

And deep within I was burying those awful events in New York. I was distancing myself from the hidden pain. Those demons were retreating and would bide their time to make an appearance.

The first landing of a man on the moon would occur on the 20th of July and I followed it all like a love sick puppy. I was so captivated by the news reports. I could barely sleep from the excitement of those television broadcasts.

The summer closed with us moving down to my grandparents home. They were still rather young (grandad would pass away in 1978. Grandmom in 1988) and treated us kids like the kids we were. Lots of food, lots of fun, lots of pampering. They knew why we were there. We didn't.

That gathering storm I mentioned before was picking up speed and barrelling headlong towards us. We would soon see the results of our parent's impending divorce.

I'll end this here and start up again in the morning on my next 'book'. I'll gather my thoughts and perhaps combine all of this into one larger manuscript. I'm not sure yet as time will tell.