Trail of Tears.

One thing we have never been short of here, in this family, especially concerning my mother and me, are tears. So many events, large and small, are emotional. We cry easily, our feelings are worn right on the surface, for all to see. We do not have poker faces, nor are we cheery people. We do laugh, but underneath our joy, is the tempered sadness, the ever present feeling that life is short, and perhaps destined to end tragically or painfully.

So I found these slides from 1983, that seem to show me in Woodcliff Lake, NJ during a college break from my studies at Boston University.

I am packed up, suitcase and brown bag full of lunch, ready to get into the car for a trip to Newark Airport and onto the People’s Express plane. Notice that even 25 years ago I was looking backwards to the 1950s for sartorial inspiration.

Someone (most likely my father) snapped the poignant and pained expression of my mother as I left her to get on a flight that only brought me 60 minutes away from Bergen County.

3 thoughts on “Trail of Tears.

  1. You’re still cute, dude. Got a long road ahead of you and a good future. Chin up. See you back around Van Nuys.


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