Maplewood, New Jersey. I’ve never been. Heading there today. My little brother has a place down there with
his wife and their three-year-old son, and we’re driving there today to
celebrate Christmas with them. I hadn’t
realized it was nearly all the way to Newark Airport. It took a full ninety minutes for us to drive
down.
It’s wonderful to
have three-year-old you need to buy Christmas gifts for. Indeed, his parents always insist: “nothing
for us!” (I made donation to WFMU, my
favorite radio station, which happens to be there in New Jersey on their
behalf.) But for hm, I could port myself to my own
backyard at that age and the world’s I used to build with trucks and road
graders.
I bought Tonka
Trucks for my daughters too, when they were three. They quickly turned them into baby carriages
for their dolls, Rico and LeeRon who could be led around and now,
deposited. My sister brought the trucks
I’d bought her son a decade ago, as well, so soon my younger nephew suddenly a
convey of large, convincing vehicles, where before he’d had none.
He wanted to show
me his room. He had a great room. He wanted to show me his parent’s room as
well, where he sometimes slept and the upstairs bathroom too. And during dinner, which was delicious and so
thoughtfully presented, he would come up to me to want to show me something and
though I wanted on the one hand to sit and relax and enjoy my meal I always got
up to join him after only a moments reflection as though I could feel how
impressions were being formed and I wanted to afford him unconditional
attention.
I also gave him a
close-and-play record player this year and the vinyl for “The Beatles 67’ to
70’,” a brand-new copy of the original compilation that was always lying
around in our house when I was that age.
There was no way he’d listen today, but perhaps his parents will help him to do so
later. I wrote to him and told him with
all earnestness that they were my best friends and that I hoped they would also
be friends of his, as well.
Friday, 12/27/19
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