The Food Desert

I smiled as I watched Kara, her hands gentle on my neck. Her gown fit her very well, her makeup and hair flawless. I'd gotten her a diamond choker for our 25th anniversary, which she loved but almost never wore unless I insisted. It was around her neck that night. She still weighed what she did when we got together, and had a mane of white hair that went almost to her waist. Even at our age she was getting looks.

The kids were on a break from college and were driving us. Bobby was going to intern with Sofia, and Sandy was going into the corporate offices to work with Mickey.

I was a big Western fan, and it was a running joke in the family that I had every Western ever made on blue-ray, going back to the first talkies. My all-time favorite was <i>Angel And The Badman,</i> the John Wayne classic. I came to realize over the years that it wasn't just a Western, it was a morality play of the influence of good versus the allure of evil. In the end, when John Wayne refuses to hold his weapons, he knew even if he died it would be with honor and dignity. I remember seeing a cross-stitch on the wall of his love interest's home. They were Quakers and it held a simple message. "Live By The Side Of The Road And Be a Friend To Man."

I thought about that for a long time. As a mantra you could do a lot worse. So that's what I strove to be. What is wealth if you can't use it to do good? What if I hadn't met a tiny black woman and befriended her one day when all I wanted to do was hurry out of the neighborhood? Or Maria, so I could be a father to Mickey? Or Sandy, who taught me what true love really was? Or Bob, the man who finally taught Kara what love should be so I could benefit? And finally Kara, who walked through her own hell of self-absorption for a while, lost and alone, before coming back to the light?

I thought about all the people who had gone before me, all of them helping forge the man I became. I was proud to be associated with them, proud to be their friend and maybe improve their lives.

I looked on the "family wall" on the way out, completely covered with family, here, and others who had gone on. One section was devoted to my "children," Mickey, Ashley, Sofia, Theresa, Emily, Michael, Miguel, Amy, Alice, Connie, and finally Bobby and Sandy, named to honor a good man and woman gone too soon. Another section was devoted to our grandchildren, all twenty-three, and our great-grandchildren, nine and counting. All college graduates or with trust funds set up for those yet to mature.

I touched the picture of Momma Chen, gone these few years past. She was probably the best grandmother and mother on the planet aside from my wife, of course, even as, like me, she never had any biological children. Sometimes love surpasses genetics.

There you have it. Sometimes love surpasses genetics. You look on my wall and see very few white faces, mostly black and Hispanic or a mixture of all the races. All I could see was love.

All I could see was Love.

*****

Another long fairy tale that got away from me. Thanks for investing your time, I hope I gave you a good dividend.

Q