At the movies last week I was reminded of Uncle Jack. All it took was the scene of Bradley Cooper and the windmills. Those generators are the very image etched in my mind of the entryway to Palm Springs from the 10 fwy.
Memories come at surprising times and in the most obvious and sometimes obscure ways. When the thoughts are triggered, they keep on flowing.
In the kitchen, looking closely at a watercolor of a hummingbird, by Pat Cole, C.V.W.S., I was reminded again of Uncle Jack. The hummingbird is my favorite bird. Palm Springs, where we bought the painting, and our periodic visits to my Uncle Jack, a pioneer of the city, with a star on Palm Canyon Blvd. to prove it, remind me of more of my favorites.
Uncle Jack lived until he was age 94 in 2005. Long widowed, he died with his “ladyfriend,” as my mother called his mistress, at his side. Auntie Alice, as she requested we call her, is now 94 and living on her own in the outskirts of Palm Springs, where she met Uncle Jack before I was born. We exchange holiday cards. The most recent greeting came with a note in which she stated that she still cares for herself and drives her own car.
Oh, the memories. They’re all recorded in Kitchen Talk, the book my agent submitted to publishers for review.