When I was a kid, I guess about 13 or maybe even 14, I met a
girl I liked. She was sort of cute, and I have fond memories of our sitting
around in her basement playroom dancing and necking a bit. It wasn’t love,
maybe just a first experience. There was no heavy sexual stuff involved and her
parents made it perfectly clear that I was not to hang around too much. Her
father was mean but her mother was “hot”. This was not anything I had even run
into before, a hot mom, a yummy mummy. I liked her better than the daughter.
In truth, I never saw either of them again after our brief experiences
together, maybe a month at most and never really thought about again it until
yesterday.
Yesterday, reading on line through some obituaries, I
discovered her mother had died. Given my age, it was not a shock, but it
brought back a bunch of sweet kid memories, and warm nostalgic feelings.
Reading through the entire obituary, I soon discovered that her Mom had died after
her daughter. My old girl friend was already dead!
This is a totally depressing thought. I had reached the
time, as I have so often said, that many of my old friends have already passed.
That sweet summertime moment, that first blush of spring, the
poetic thoughts of young love have died and are buried in some Jewish cemetery somewhere
in Baltimore, Maryland.
There should be a fitting Leonard Cohen song to follow this…….
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