11/19/92
Reading this over it occurred to me that if I don’t soon move on, I’ll be on my way back to Myrtle Beach and still haven’t let you know what a great time it was in 1992. I also had the thought that describing the twins as being “aghast” when the singing waitress sat on my lap was a bit presumptuous and probably what I felt they should feel – horrified!. But on further thought, I’m sure they were not “aghast” or “alarmed” by my conduct (or the waitress’) but amused or tickled by the whole proceeding.
The trip back was delightful. We had to leave 95 in Virginia both for gas and because of a tie-up. As we drove east towards Route 1, we ran smack into the entrance to Quantico Marine Base. The past was right before me. The gate I had entered thirty- eight years ago was still there, only the people had changed.
The trip home was also full of concern for Mary Lou’s health. Now, three months later, is great to report that her tumor is removed, the incipient cancer nipped in the bud and she is well and ready to set off in two weeks for a week in Las Vegas.
The month of November is a month of memories. Today, the 19th, twenty-two years ago Marge, my sister, and I prepared to head across the country to bury Bishop Frank in Jolo. I had just returned from a week with Winnie and a visit with Jim and Pat in Munich, Germany. We were to spend a week in Jolo and fly to the uppermost islands on a single engine plane. Marge headed back via Seattle and I went on to Hong Kong carrying money to the Bishop’s school there for a few days. Then around the globe, over India, over Greece, into Rome and into Frankfurt, Germany, to land almost one month to the day I had left – having been around the world since then.
It is also the month of my mom’s death, but on the same day, the birthday of Kate Cosgrove Baker. This year she marks number three, while it is hard to remember that Mother’s death was 40 years ago. I can remember when 40 years seemed like such a long time.