Thursday, January 26, 2012

Hearing the Footsteps of the Green Monster

As I have mentioned in this space from time to time over the past several months, the Missus and I are preparing to place the old homestead on the market (timing is everything right?), which we anticipate doing at some point in the first half of 2012. If you know anyone in the market for a beautiful center-hall Colonial in suburban Middlesex County New Jersey with four bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, fenced in backyard, full basement and vinyl siding, windows and central air conditioning all installed within the last eleven years (a/k/a "the time that we have owned the joint"), then tell them to drop me a line. Happiness is saving the Realtor's fee after all.

One of the interesting aspects of the packing process is it requires one (in our house Margaret is that "one" far more often than am I) to do some expeditionary work, going through long-ago forgotten boxes and containers in the never-ending quest to divine the difference between trash and treasure. Over the course of the past month or so at least a couple of occasions have arisen when she has taken a picture with her phone of something uncovered in a box whose identifying markings confirm that its contents once rested in the room of either Suz or Rob. Margaret photographs the item of indeterminate significance and then sends it to its erstwhile owner with a query, "Keep or Toss?" If the response is the former, then we keep it. If it is the latter, then out it goes. Well, that is the story we have told the kids thus far anyway. Whether everything they designate as a "keeper" is in fact kept remains a story for another day.

But I digress.

While we (meaning of course Margaret) were compartmentalizing the contents of Rob's room among the items of his we stumbled across is an old iPod. I know not how old this one is - or whether it was his original one. I know that it is metallic green in color and it is the approximate size of the Brooklyn phone directory. Well, at least the White Pages.

I presume that it is among the vestiges of his college years. That presumption - uninformed as always - is predicated upon the fact that we stumbled upon it in the general vicinity of other items from that era. My scientific method is so strong that if Santorum gets elected President, I am a shoo in to head up Health and Human Service....or NASA....or both.

Anyway, in my mind's eye I visualize Rob making his way through the subway tunnels and streets of Manhattan from what was then his home at the New Yorker Hotel to the John Jay campus. It is a visualization that makes me smile. Given that smiles can be in short supply now and again - I am Irish you know - I take them wherever I can get them.

Marathon training has commenced. Training in the Winter to run a marathon that takes place in the early Spring requires dedication and an ability to overcome monotony. The latter is a direct effect of so much of one's training having to take place indoors on a treadmill. To help me keep on keeping on this week I have listened to music not from my iPod - where the songs are at least known to me - but from Rob's old green monster. And it has been fantastic. I must confess that thus far most of the songs I have heard have been wholly unfamiliar to me. But it matters not. It matters not because they all seem to possess a decidedly uptempo vibe, which comes in damn handy when one is spending time on the human hamster wheel.

And it matters not because while the process is tedious, the smile on my face has remained in its appointed place. For I think not of what I am doing while I am listening to the music in my ears. I think instead of what he was doing when he was listening to it in his ears way back when in his crazy college days. And that is most assuredly a very good thing.

If it is enjoyment through osmosis, so be it. I shall take it without complaint. And given that he apparently downloaded close to 400 songs on this iPod, I shall take it down the road a good long piece.


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