Passages

Today we cleaned out Murray Zidenberg's apartment.

No, Uncle Murray hasn't gone to his reward...

Actually, maybe he has.

He's nestled into a place in Oshawa where he's got a Red Seal chef doing the meal prep and 24 hour a day room service. He's never had it so good.

Word has it that he's morphed into something of a social butterfly at the new place. That ain't Uncle Murray.

But maybe it is now.

Maybe he's made peace with the fact that it's OK to coast to the finish line.

You don't have to keep the reserve tank topped up anymore.

He's come to that time and place in his life.

I'm not a big fan of moves. But every move is a passage to something. On the whole it's more fun helping the younger generation move.

Over the course of a five year university career I helped my daughter move four times. Every move was infused with optimism. When you're young a move means you're heading somewhere.

When you're old you're heading somewhere too, but it's just not the same.

Aunt Flo was there to supervise the moving of Murray's stuff. She's been divorced from the guy for twenty years but still runs his life. She's a powerhouse, Auntie Flo is.

Loud 'n proud. Look up "kvetch" in the dictionary and you'll find her picture. Walk into any store in town with her and watch the sales staff dive for cover.

Auntie Flo suffers no fools and takes no prisoners.

She supervised the loading of my truck. This is going to the Goodwill. These three boxes are for the Sally Ann. All that stuff is going to the recycle depot. Maybe this stuff you can use at the farm...

Once I was out of sight I made a beeline for the landfill.

Sorry Aunt Flo.

But I still love ya!