Thursday, July 18, 2013

FOUR PESOS (PART 9)

I am 65 years old now.  We just moved from a house on the ocean above Kauapea Bay into our house on Kalihiwai Ridge.  During the packing process for the move, I ran across an old cigar box filled with things from my past.  My elementary school patrol boy Captain’s badge, a few marbles that must have been special to me, a key chain with my second grade photo in it with the name of my second grade teacher, Miss Whitmyer, written in my precise second grade printing,   a quarter with a piece of paper taped around it with the words “gramps” written on it in my dad’s handwriting ( this was one of the quarters put on my grandfather’s eyes when he passed away…my sister got the other quarter), and finally two Puerto Rican pesos.  I had honestly forgotten about the pesos for decades. Of course one of the pesos was mine that Mya put in my hand almost 50 years ago.  The other peso was the one that Guy’s mom put in the same hand at his funeral service.  I can’t say for sure what happened to the other two pesos.  I guess the four pesos were just the symbol of a promise that we made to a beautiful, dark skinned woman when we were young.  Another promise made but not a promise kept. Sad, but in the words of Shirely MacLaine, “It is useless to hold a person to anything he promises while he is in love, lust, drunk, or running for office”.
THE END  

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