As a child I would go around thinking I was some type of detective. One that could solve mysteries and find out the deepest and darkest secrets of anyone. Of anyone and everyone around me including my parents. As a child my parents room was a mystery. They never allowed the kids in it therefore I knew some type of mystery was hidden within those walls.
I had planned the strike on their room carefully . It would occur right after the last school bell and right before it was time for him (dad) to go to work. It would be right before she (mom) would turn the right side burner of the stove to simmer his supper. I would go in the room that had the butterfly wall paper in mint green with splashes of silver. I would look underneath the bed covered with a velvet duvet and I would open those shiny mirrored closet doors and spy.
|Dad Art, Esther.|
She was an amazing housekeeper there was no dust under the velvet covered bed and no fingerprints on those mirrored closets which meant more diligence on my behalf. I wore a pair of white bobby socks on my hands no evidence of my presence would be left behind. I open the closet there it was... a box. A square leather black box with an ivory handle. It looked like a magicians tool box. One that held many magical and exciting things. I opened the box fast and my heart was beating faster. I could now hear him singing in the shower.
Photographs... large black and white photographs of my father with Frank Sinatra, Paul Anka and beautiful girls. Girls from the by gone era that wore tight curls and painted eyebrows. Girls that wore beaded dresses and looked sophisticated yet sensual. Photos from a place called the Fountaineblue in Miami Beach were my father was on a stage along the ones already mentioned. A marriage license with my fathers name and the name of a unknown woman. A death certificate of a baby that had my last name and had been buried in this place called Miami beach. It shook me to the core. At the age of 7... I was shaken. Too many truths, too many secrets it was just too much. I swore right there and then I was done spying.
I thought I had given up my detective ways on that afternoon on that the year of 1979 but life is taking me to Miami in one week. My detective ways are awake once again. I think I will be making a pilgrimage to the Fountainebleau. I will be 11 miles from it and I will try to imagine what it was like. I also think a trip to an unknown cemetery is in order. I will leave flowers to my unknown older brother to the boy I never met or knew.
My fathers trio on You Tube.
To listen to video scroll to bottom of page to turn the sound off jukebox.