Bet you don’t recognize this little guy. This was taken at Uncle Victor’s house mid summer of 1983. You were about ten months old, and not yet walking. I have another picture of you in your stroller somewhere in the East 70’s.

I have been trying hard to remember this trip. Normally I seem to have very good recall of events from about 12 years before the brain injury but this trip is an exception. I am positive we flew down to New York. I remember the landing at La Guardia, coming in over the bay, starting to get worried due to our low descent over water and checking for the exits. Old Coast Guard habits die hard.

Aunt Claire met us with her car. The fact of her driving now seems totally improbable but I seem to remember crossing the East River on the 59th Street Bridge and arriving at her apartment where she handed the car off to someone to hide in the garage. Don’t think we went up to her apartment at all. My memory, and I probably have it wrong, is that she was in total panic about having a young tyke in the building. Probably not allowed in due to the by-laws. Maybe scared of children.

My next memory is of heading down Park Avenue with the the Pan Am building looming up ahead. This must have been a cab trip as I cannot imagine schlepping you, mom, the stroller, and all the luggage through the subway system (almost wrote schtuping in that last sentence. Bad Yiddish joke comes to mind).

Then it was out to Uncle Victor’s house in CT from Grand Central. I think he lived in Westport but I am likely wrong. Pretty sure the train stop was East Norwalk. Tried looking for his place in Google maps but it is hopeless. Do remember the three of us having the house to ourselves during the day with most of that time spent by the pool. Mum seemed to enjoy the down time. You slept a lot. All that exercise from being carried everywhere :-). Other than a trip to Stew Leonard’s, a super duper food market, I have few other memories. We then schlepped everything back to the train and spent a couple of days staying at Uncle Victor’s apartment in town. I have this odd memory of us taking the Staten Island ferry, but the rest of the trip is a bit of a blank apart from some time in Central Park and pictures of you driving your stroller outside the FULLER building on the upper east side.

I am still amazed that 33 years ago you popped into the world. You were an incredible sight, wet, covered with blood, incredibly slippery, so slippery I was scared of the hard tile underfoot and held you tight. Your eyes were closed, you looked very cold after 9 months in the warmth and dark and you were making a racket that was echoing like music in that room. I held you close to my chest to protect you from slipping away and to try and keep you warm. You found my heartbeat and I think that was comforting to you as you immediately quieted down and drifted off into sleep.

All the very best on your 33rd.

With Lots of Love,
Dad

This picture was taken later the same year after you developed a sense of humour and started to grow some hair. This is my favourite picture of you. Actually they are all my favourite.