Anticipating Spring

The days of spring seem to sneak up on me, cloudy days, rainy nights. The air changed from cold and damp to warm and inviting. Suddenly I can’t see the house behind my house because of the thickness of the trees that often threaten to overtake my existence. I have always loved spring – something enchanting about the way things change in the springtime.  Somehow the mood is different, lighter almost flirtatious. Something promising about the budding trees and flowers…..the anticipation, the unspoken promise of something exciting, something new – the wonder of nature! Even in the projects of Brooklyn, New York there was an air of excitement. My dad seemed to enjoy spring just as much as I did. Sometime after retirement and my mother’s passing, he would lovingly plant flowers right outside the entrance to the building in which we lived and hoped beyond hope that the neighborhood children would leave them to grow. He would very attentively take care of  them – checking on them daily, making sure they had enough water and that they hadn’t been disturbed. It seemed that before we knew it, we had the most beautiful flowers right there by the “stoop”. Like a diamond in the rough – something outstanding and definitely out of the ordinary from the decay of the housing project in which we lived. His planting of the flowers meant that spring was just around the corner.

A sure sign that spring has arrived here in the DC/Maryland area, is the blooming of the cherry blossoms. It’s not unusual to see thousands of people visit DC’s tidal basin during the cherry blossom festival. This usually takes place right in the beginning of April but actually it depends on the weather. The oldest of the trees were planted as a gift from Japan in 1912. Since my dad was such a lover of flowers, I decided that he would have to come and visit during the time of the cherry blossoms just for him to experience the beauty of the blossoms in real life.  Not only that, the children loved for granddaddy to visit. All the arrangements were made and finally the day came when we would embark on our journey downtown. I suggested that we take the Metro instead of me driving and then having to find someplace to park. Also this would be a treat for the children since we never took Metro. We parked the car at the New Carrollton Metro station in Maryland and proceeded downtown Washington, D.C. (about a 30 minute ride). The weather forecast had been questionable for that day. They were anticipating rain but we decided we would go anyway. After all, how many times have they gotten the forecast wrong. Equipped with rain gear and umbrellas, off we went. As it turned out, the weather was perfect!!! The five of us were walking along and enjoying the flowers, although it was a little hard for my dad to relax and just enjoy the view. I guess being in New York for so long had him permanently programmed to rush. It seemed that the more people that were around, the more he would rush. Nevertheless, the children managed to hold on to him, making him stop periodically to take a picture or two. The blossoms are indeed beautiful. They only are in bloom for a short time, so you have to time it just right. Once they start to fall they coat the ground in a magnificent blanket of pink – so soft to the touch, beyond description. Everything was going along just fine until it was time to go home. We arrived back at the station and as we were about to go down to the train, my father announced that we were going down on the wrong side.  WHAT???? One side was going to New Carrollton, MD and one side was going to Vienna, VA. He insisted that we needed to go to Vienna. Right there in the middle of the train station he and I was arguing about which way to go home. Losing my patience, I loudly asked him…”Daddy, WHERE DO YOU LIVE?  Do you live in Brooklyn or do you live here? You would think that I would know how to go home.”  He wasn’t having it. We went back and forth about which direction was correct. Finally I decided to let him have his way. I whispered to Yamil to go with him this way I could be assured that eventually they would get back home and then I said,  “OK Daddy YOU go that way but I’m going home!” As I started down the steps I could hear Yamil pleading with him to come with us. Somehow Yamil convinced him to come with us and we finally arrived back at the house. My dad was indeed stubborn and constantly on the move although sometimes he was moving much too fast. After about a week, I he had had enough of us and was ready to go back to New York. I decided to send him back on Amtrak which would be a much nicer ride. Since he had worked for the railroad for so many years, he would get a very nice discount on the ticket.  I had arranged for my cousin to meet him at 34th street Penn Station since he would arrive until about 7:30-8:00pm. My cousin had a car so it would be better than him riding the subway at night by himself. Upon arriving at the New Carrollton station where he would leave from, he proceeded to take his bag from me and started charging towards the door to where you would buy the tickets. Meanwhile the children and I were running to catch up with him. At that point I could see things weren’t going to turn out well. I started hollering “daddy wait!” Poof!!! He ran smack into the glass door and bounced back almost falling with suitcase in hand. He didn’t realize that there was a glass door there. I thought – “Oh brother should I send him home alone?” He managed to collect himself and we got him on the train safely. However, some three plus hours later, my cousin called to say that he didn’t see him get off the train. He was not at the designated meeting point. You can imagine how frantic I was. I called my sister; I called my brother I even called Amtrak just to make sure there had not been any delays or accidents.  My cousin kept looking for him – NOTHING! The train had arrived on time and everything.  Low and behold around 10:00 PM I finally called the house and he answered.  Apparently he didn’t see my cousin when he got off the train so he decided that he could make it home by himself. Mind you, my dad was in his mid to late 80s. That was the absolutely last time we let him travel alone.  I knew he could do it, but I was always afraid of what others might do to him. Imagine this 5’4”, approximately 140 pound, 80 something year old man with a suitcase riding the NYC subways at 9:00pm by himself. Not only that, did I mention that my dad was very fashionable? He always sported the latest sneakers (usually Jordan\’s since that was the popular brand during that time), jackets, hats. If you didn’t get close up on him, he looked like a teenager. He always walked with a spring in his step. It was nothing to see him bobbing and weaving maneuvering through the traffic at warp speed. The trip from the subway station to home was approximately 5 – 6 blocks. No problem for him, he was home – Brooklyn with all its problems was indeed his comfort zone. When I look back on it, I’m amazed that I survived that trip!