Friday, March 13, 2009

Thursday, March 12th

My favorite memories of Thursday, March 12, 2009:

Meeting Blake, a friend of Aiden, housemate of Harrison's. Blake is from Allentown, Pa. We learned we shared a hometown over coffee before I left with Harrison and Nickie for Bethlehem, Pa.

Stopping at Gabel's in Tannersville, Pa for ice cream, waiting for Nickie's mom to meet us.

Getting to see my dad was amazing. He says that he's lost about 38 lbs and looks great for it. I hadn't seen my dad's feet since he lost two toes on the left foot. It was especially weird to see not only his foot without the big toe but also how much not having it affected his balance.

My dad is well liked within the rehabilitation center amongst the nurses and other patients. Everyone had heard a lot about me, remarked at our resemblance and said kind words of my father as I wheeled him though the halls in his wheelchair.

My stepsister Haley dashed over to see me and my dad when she found out I had stopped in town. Her hair is a deep brown and she looks just like Snow White with her milky complexion, blue eyes and red painted mouth. I wish she would have been able to hang out, but she had clinic for beauty school that evening. We hope to schedule a trip to the bar in the near future.

My dad gave me the book, "Coming of Age in Samoa" by Margaret Mead. He read it the night before his Lit final while popping speed, so he says. He doesn't remember the book- only that he liked it. I think the world is spinning some mischief involving Samoa... Samoan Sauna... Coming of Age in Samoa... Regardless, Mead went to Samoa when she was only 23 and wrote a Perennial Classic. Damn. Janis and Jimi were dead by 27. Haley and I wonder what the hell we will leave behind before long.

I checked my dad out for the evening. weird. it was like signing for an early dismissal in high school.

Watching Harrison walk over after a sudden nap. He looked very dreamy and glazed.

It was kind of nice to have Harrison around for dinner at my Grammy's, just for the ability to look over at another person thinking that there is a lot of ridiculousness and pasta being thrown around.

Spaghetti sandwich!

My Grammy randomly brought up that I should move to Bethlehem and take care of my dad. I was surprised to hear my mother's voice leap out-- I want to live my own life! I'm too young! I really couldn't even believe what she was saying to me. asking of me. I watched my mom take care of my grandmother for so many years and I don't want to start that lifestyle anytime soon. You lose yourself in the care of another. You can't just go on break when it's your parent.

Grammy: Do you two go together? In unison: NO.

We took my dad on a smoke ride around the neighborhoods of Bethlehem. He showed us the houses of old girlfriends, we spoke of the city planning around industrial valleys- the rich get the view. We idled outside of the house I was taken home to from the hospital, a brand new baby. I noticed the missing trees, but it seemed to be a happy home. I think we scared the occupants though-- they were peeking through windows, turning lights on and off in paranoia. I think I'll write them a letter to let them know that the creep car sitting outside their house one night was a nostalgic father and daughter.

If I had stayed in Bethlehem as a child. I would have attending Calypso Elementary, an old building that now is completely rebuilt, and there would have been a Shimer Street nearby. Upon realizing this, I gasped. Harrison accurately assigned the cause of my groan-- the imaginative possibilities I was denied in my childhood.

Sometimes you end up on a more direct but windy route. Specifically, 209.

To cap it all off, Harrison ditched me at the end of the night to pass out while I remain without a reciprocal massage.

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