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Published: April 21st 2012
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Today we took a different bus route, this time further into Queens, to visit Sister Corde Somma, Mad Mama's music teacher in HS. She is in an assisted living facility on Parsons Blvd in Whitestone. We stopped for some good Italian cookies, which the clerk packaged in a big white box and tied it with thin red and white string -- exactly the same as they did 60 years ago.
We arrived at the convent, which is quite beautiful and sun-lit, to meet with my old friend. I was so happy to see her! We reminisced and had a really good lunch -- meat loaf, brussels sprouts, and mashed candied sweet potatoes -- with cookies for dessert. Except there weren't any cookies left. I don't know how, but this dozen or so skinny older nuns inhaled about 80 cookies before Sister Corde ever got to them. She takes that whole communal living thing so seriously, it wouldn't have occurred to her to squirrel away a few for herself. I was definitely not cut out for that kind of life. Anyway, she pointed out a nun a few tables away who was her own 4th grade teacher. The woman is 98
years old. It's all that clean living. (And Italian cookies. But I'm not judging.)
As Gracie and I returned to Astoria, I got the idea to go to the beach. At Woodside station we hopped another bus that took us to Rockaway, seeing much of Queens along the way. A young teen girl got on the bus and opened up her copy of
Catcher in the Rye. That was me 50 years ago. But being in NY on a city bus makes it feel like last month.
At Rockaway we stopped for a snack at a place that featured something called Seaside Cheese Fries: a layer of french fries, two slices of American cheese, another layer of fries and two more slices of cheese, toasted in a broiler, and covered with gravy. I can now die happy.
Gracie and I walked up the boardwalk a bit and she went down to the surf. She didn't want to get her feet wet because there were signs about no wading unless a lifeguard was present, and since this is April, none was. She wouldn't have cared but a family with young kids was nearby, and she didn't want to
set a bad example, or put the parents in the position of having to defend their decision to have their kids follow the rules. I wonder if Gracie is really mine. But I admire her for it, nonetheless. So dry feet and all, we wandered back on the bus to the other end of Queens to Ditmars, where we met my cousin Heather for dinner at a Greek restaurant.
We hadn't seen Heather since our trip to Ireland together in 2006, so we had a lot of catching up to do. The time sped, but then it was time to go and Heather gave us a ride back to the house. Good thing, because I couldn't face another bus, or manage another set of steps up or down to the train! I'm so glad I bought that cane, because it really helps my hips not hurt so much.
Which reminds me: while we were at Rockaway, a guy gave Gracie the 21st century version of a wolf-whistle ("Wassup, Beautiful?"). On the other hand, I got the attention of a middle-aged couple who admired my folding cane.
Time to re-read Catcher in the Rye.
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Seanzo
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Seaside Cheese Fries...
mmmmmm