There's Always Paris

My grandfather was an elusive character. He wore a blue beret that he bought one summer while on vacation in France. He loved that hat. Strange choice for a man who made a living as a steam fitter. Every once in a while, when I see those black and white photographs of men eating their lunches out of buckets, on steel beams 20 stories up, skyscrapers in the background, I wonder, what would those guys think about my Pop in that blue beret?

That summer of the beret came with a porcelain doll with a feathered hat and fancy dress. To the best of my recollection, that was my only gift from my grandfather. My sisters got trips to the circus and zoos. But, not me. I missed out on the popcorn and peanuts...

So, on the day before he died, when I got a call, I was startled. The thing is, I didn’t expect the request that came with that call. “Your Pop needs to see you,” said the voice on the other end. “It’s kind of important that you come in a hurry.” “Sure, I guess…I’ll need to find a ride.”

All the way down the Merritt Parkway, I kept wondering, “Why me? “. It wasn’t good to question, I thought. It was dark by the time I got to Yonkers. My friend and chauffeur, Emily, said she’d grab some dinner at the diner we passed around the corner, and asked if I wanted anything for the ride back home. “How about a BLT and an egg cream. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.” And with that, I walked through the revolving door, not knowing what to expect next.

The smell of solemnity and sterility was in the fluorescent air. The flickering violet tubes, the dull pink curtain surrounding his bed blindsided my anticipation with a sudden sorrow. “I’m glad you came,” he gasped. “I’m glad I came, too...but…“ He smiled, and put his finger to his dry lips. “Shush...there’s not much time.” With that he leaned over, and picked up the tray of the moving table next to his bed, and took out an old cigar box. “I want you to have this, I’ve been saving what’s in here for you for quite some time; this is between you and me.” And before I could say anything, or he could finish, the shuffle of feet could be heard coming down the hallway. “Now tuck that away underneath your coat, and say goodbye and that’s that.” And with that, the curtain was drawn, “Time to take your vitals” said the nurse; “Love you, Pop.” I sighed as I was summarily shown the door.

Cold as it was, I sat outside the hospital on the bench, still snuggling the cigar box underneath my coat, until Emily pulled up. “Waiting long,” she asked as I opened the door. “A lifetime,” I thought, “just a few,” I said.

The cigar box sat on my bookcase for quite some time. Aside from the immediate perusal through what appeared to be some foreign coins, and postcards, and pictures, and a little black book on that quiet ride home, there seemed to be no urgency to figure out why the secrecy. And life just happened along through winter until a wave of grief came over me during an early spring rain; Grief that had been tucked away in a cigar box beneath the heaviness of a winter coat.

I smiled as I carefully looked through the postcards of Paris, a picture of my father as a boy...I guess before my grandparents split up. And then, there was the tattered black book...why was it entrusted to me? Some names, and phone numbers, some travel notes, and birthdays. And then, on the second to last page, an address, a box number, a piece of electrical tape. Its placement intrigued me. As I rubbed my thumb across the licorice-like fragment, I felt a bump embedded in the final pages of that mysterious little diary of sorts. I picked away at the sticky stuff that had clearly been there for quite some time. As I caught the upside of the corner, I ripped it like an old band-aid, and there it was…a tiny key.

Things began to make a little sense. The call, the secrecy, the address, the random number 32. “Up for another car ride, Em? I have a mystery to unfurl. And it could entail another trip to the Odyssey diner. My treat.”

And just like that we were off. Down the Merritt once again in search of an unknown destination (before the age of Mapquest and Google maps). Past the hospital, past the diner, onto Main Street. The train station and the Post Office loomed large, but street numbers were not visible. Both possibilities, I flipped a coin. I was feeling lucky. “Drop me at the Post Office. And circle around. This should only take a few.” People were lined up, picking up and dropping off mail...and there, around the corner off to the side, were the golden engraved boxes, numbered sequentially in the hundreds. And, there it was 32...praying now that this was the box and this was the key, and the box was still paid for, I moved stealthy amidst those crowding around, reading through the contents of their cache. As I inserted the key, and jiggled it back and forth, the door suddenly popped, and there before my eyes, a wrinkled Manila envelope secured with electrical tape, the smell of cigar still redolent, addressed to Pop, postmarked 7 months ago, with my name referenced in the lower left corner. No return address. I closed the door to the box, and with no coat to conceal my package, I tucked it under my arm and made my way to Em’s car.

“So... what do you got?” I hesitated. “We shall see.” I peeled away the tape, to discover an inner package wrapped tightly with layers of Saran Wrap and tape. As I began the unravel to expose the contents it was clear that it was tightly protected with care. First, a tiny envelope with 4 quarters, a second, a bit larger, was filled with nine singles, a third contained 4 fives, 7 tens, and 5 twenties.

“What gives?” Emily asked. “The hell if I know,” I returned, as I tore away at what was entangling the final bundle, crimped. The last envelope, legal size: 2 fifties, and 197 one hundred-dollar bills...with a note under the back flap: “Get yourself a car, and then, a beret and, please, enjoy Paris.” Pop

Just at the moment of the reveal, we pulled into a space by the Odyssey right by the hospital where the quest began. “Ready to get something to eat?” I asked Em. “This one’s definitely on me!”