Colonel Tom Parker, The Cranky Big Guy, Dahlia Lithwick, and My Father's Mailbox
The Mirror at the End of the Long Hallway
The story goes — and it’s one I hope to God is true — that when Colonel Tom Parker, who was given the honorary title in 1948 by Jimmie Davis, the governor of Louisiana (and I’m sure no hinky quid pro quo went on before, during, or after that ceremony ) was negotiating Elvis Presley’s first contract with RCA, a record company lawyer asked him, “How about $35,000?” to which Parker supposedly replied, “That’s fine for me. Now what about the boy?”
Yesterday, and maybe because I was already at Old School/New York/Owl Head Bagel Cafe, I decided to turn left out of the parking lot, and drive to the Hebrew Home. After my father died, after my brother, Wayne, and my sister, Siobhan, and I cleaned out his apartment, we were leaving the retirement center when Chelsea, the activities director extraordinaire, saw us, came out of her office, and said, “Don’t be strangers. Don’t forget us. Come by once in a while.”
She no doubt says that to every spouse, sibling, and offspring who no longer has a reason to come by, as I’m sure every spouse, sibling, and offspring who no longer has a reason to come by promises they will.
As did I.
I had been back only once since my father died and that was to give back the keys to his apartment and mailbox. Today was just . . . today.
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