Statistics can be deceptive. If you were to research my Father, officially he had three children. While that is factually correct, it doesn't encompass the entire truth.
Growing up our entire clan lived on one block in Hells Kitchen ranging from Ninth Avenue to the horizontal boundary of Tenth Avenue. Difficult to comprehend in today's global world when families are so widespread including mine.
While Dad had three biological children, he was also Father to his sister's four children, all who lived several houses up the block. If you researched me, you would read I had two sisters. Again, factually correct, but in reality I always considered my four cousins to be three older brothers and an older sister.
There aren't many of us left who remember living on "The Block." A handful of us gather every week or so for lunch and loving memories and today's realities. Three of the four cousins left for a better place years ago. The youngest of the group remains, and is, thankfully, a living presence in my world.
Lou was my hero, from early childhood, and even now. He was the first to depart leaving many heartbroken girls behind. After being wounded in Germany during WW1, he met his Anam Cara at Walter Reed Hospital and moved to Pennsylvania. For a family without an automobile in NYC, this was akin to an exodus to the moon. When it was time for me to exit, I mentally thanked him for being the first to go.
Through the miracle of our Ipads or perhaps WFI, we talk weekly. It is an incredible experience, and while we speak of our yesteryears, he gives me confidence in the mundane trials of today's life, and serenity in contemplating the future. Once again, he is showing me the way.
After our conversations, I return to my life with a different perspective. It is Lou's mature wisdom peppered by the lessons we both learned from my Dad that make me reconsider my viewpoint on today's challenges.
Recently, Lou asked me if I remembered our annual summer hiatus to the shore. Oddly enough I did, despite the gap of decades. The memory remains crystal clear for both of us. A small bungalow about a block from the ocean was our home away from home. The thing we both remembered was there was always room for one more. Neither of us recall where everyone slept, but both of us recalled the laughter, camaraderie and love that prevailed. Money had to have been tight for my parents, yet there was "Always room for one more," and enough food for another guest.
Indeed it was a long time ago, and there have been many life altering changes since those days. Within a few years after Lou and my expodus, the block changed totally. Most of the younger generation had already abandoned the neighborhood, and eventually the old timers followed suit.
Family incomes increased, and children went off to college. Many choosing to remain in the area where they had been students. No longer did an entire clan live on "The Block." Neither for that matter did many still live in the same city. Both Lou and I have children living out of state, and often we discuss the pros and cons of arranging visits.
However, one thing we both totally agree about. Neither of us would have changed our decision to test our wings, and in that sense, possibly we were both role models for the next generation. Because of the incredible miracle of Skype and Facetime, we still visit those we love even though they no longer live down the street. And the philosophy we learned in our youth has been passed on to our children. There is always "Room for one more" and enough food for another guest in their homes.
