one of the weirdest moments in my life was after I left my aunt sally’s funeral. she was ok, but kind of full of shit, like my father, they had something in common, and lots of stuff under the bridge, and I was thinking whatever they fought about, that’s gone and forgotten now, because we kids don’t even know about it anymore, and maybe that’s a blessing, let’s forget it all, please. and I was there as a gesture, as much as anything else, to say goodbye to the last of that generation of lowes. her name was always sally, though she was born sarah. I learned later that she preferred sally because she said sarah sounded too jewish. see what I mean? be careful what you say and what you allow yourself to think, because you never know what will be remembered, and what won’t. how’d you like that to be all anyone knew about you? and sally was a member of the rosary society. there’s a peculiar bunch. they ran through a few of their routines after the service. weird. I’ve always had this kind of wary relationship with the cult of mary side of the catholic church. its a little too voodoo for me, but my superstitious side cautions me even against thinking too much along these lines. just let sleeping dogs lie.
but nevermind any of that. I loved my aunt sally just like she loved me, because she was family. and family comes first. and I’m a slow learner, but I get there, and God forgive me for all the times I wasn’t there for my family, thinking it didn’t matter, I didn’t matter, I was just one more of the bunch, and all that. let’s all just move on and let the river flow.
and that brings me to the point, because I left, and said my goodbyes to my memories of aunt sally, and her generation, and to my tearful cousins, who loved me, I realized more at that moment than any previous, maybe for the first time, and were really appreciative that I made the trip, coming from so far away, putting aside the question of why I was so far away in the first place, but the weird part was after that, I got in the car, and drove to the airport, but first I took a little detour through the old town of farmingdale, which before I was born was really a little farm village, but through my lifetime became just another farm, this time of split level tract houses, and strip malls, and all of that, and I look up and see the little stone storefronts that once sold general goods and farm equipment, but had converted through the years, I guess from barbers to hair stylists, and from head shops to coffee shops or whatever, and one old place had been a bar or rock club for some time, and showed the wear of the years, like a lot of back rooms across the country, and I looked up at the backlight sign, and I see the act tonight is leon russel and his all star band. and I think “what the fuck?” I remember him from back in the day, and I happen to know he’s from oklahoma, which is like texas’ no-account relative, and I’m thinking: here I am down in texas, thinking what the hell am I doing here, and then there’s leon russel up there in farmingdale out on long island and he must be thinking to himself, what the hell am I doing here? and where did all that money go, and probably most of it went up his nose, or up his arm, or maybe not, and he’s living out in the hamptons with the rich and famous or maybe not, maybe he’s living in queens, like louis armstrong did, and he’s gonna die there and I hope he’s happy, but whatever else, I’m betting he’s damned confused, just like I am.