MARY ANNE:
"...I should apply anyway," I told Dawn over my cell phone as I drove home from work on a crisp, but still mild September day. As usual, the traffic was freaky, especially since it was Friday evening in the Big Apple.
"I think you'd make a swell principal," Dawn told me. "You're good with kids, especially teenagers and you've done a lot already to improve the New York school system."
"Thanks," I blush. I always blush when I'm complemented.
"How's the book coming?" Dawn asked. I'm writing a book which I hope to have finished by next year. I've published two other books, but they were non-fiction.
"Getting there," I edged my car off the main city highway and turned toward the sign pointing to Hudson Ridge just outside of New York. Once I managed to clear the ramp, traffic lightened up considerably and the tall buildings and skyscrapers gave way to houses and apartments intermingling with shopping centers and malls. As my stepsister and I talked more, I silently marveled over how New York City's grown even BIGGER since I first came here as a college student. Once we'd hung up and I got home, I thought over how it was the eighteen-year anniversary of the World Trade Center disaster a few days ago. The first World Trade Center had been a huge steel and glass skyscraper then. Most buildings today are made of stronger, more durable brick or iron. Back then, terrorism was rampant and Afghanistan was ruled by the Taliban and it was the Mysoginocide era. Close to one million women had perished over there. Meanwhile, in September 2001, over three thousand people in the first WTC had died when two hijacked planes crashed into the buildings, which had been two skyscrapers. My friends and I had been college freshmen then and it had been scary, especially since Kristy, Mona, and I had been in NYC for college. I'm so glad my kids are living now instead of back then during that war and the Mysoginocide. The current WTC is one tall building of brick and iron and is just one tower. Near it is a huge memorial and museum as well as a wing on the Mysoginocide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was close to midnight before I got up to stretch and close down my computer for the night. Alma had gone to bed and Tamara was reading and listening to the radio. As I passed her room, I could hear Bonfire's soft rock pulse around her room. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a soft creak downstairs. I froze a minute. Hearing nothing more, I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed my mouth out. I'd just gotten in bed with a book when I heard the creak again, this time with a soft scraping sound. Closing the book, I quietly headed downstairs. Thank the stars it didn't sound like anyone breaking in. I walked around the dark downstairs a minute. Once back in the living room, I flipped on the light and to my reassurance, nothing was out of place; nothing looked strange. Our cat, Sunset, was lying beneath the coffee table, batting a toy around and when she bit it in a certain way, it creaked. Her claws occasionally scraped the coffee table. *Oh* I mouthed.
"Oh, hello, Sunset..." I said softly. Sunset peered up at me, then went on playing with her toy. I swallowed, whether from relief or anxiety, I didn't know. "Goodnight, pookie-kins..." I whispered after a minute, then headed back upstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STACEY:
I wound up visiting the old town that September and staying at Mom's house along with Syrie. As I drove down toward my mom's house, I looked around, mentally comparing the old town now to how it looked years ago when my friends and I were growing up here. It certainly does have the feel of a small city with more traffic, houses and apartments clustered closer together, shorter blocks, and more crowds, not to mention the ever expanding financial district. The area that had been once been the only downtown area had grown and now resembled Wall Street and mid-city Stamford combined. Over dinner that Saturday night, I updated Mom on the latest development in my experiment.
"Just think, maybe we won't need wires and poles to get electricity moving anymore if your experiment works," Mom smiled as she sipped her tea.
"Yeah, hard to imagine."
"Guess who I ran into last time I was in Stamford?" Mom asked.
"No...who?"
"Leah Silverbein."
"No kidding!" I nearly fell out of my chair. Ms. Silverbein was the principal of our old high school, Stoneybrook High. She's long retired and eighty-two now. "How is she?"
"She's getting along in years and has diabetes, but is doing all right." Mom told me. "She now has seven grandchildren and one great-granddaughter."
"Oh, my goodness," I sipped my tea. "I wonder if she's been in touch with SHS."
"She has been. She still gets their newsletter and is keeping tabs on the conversion of Stoneybrook. I think this town will turn into a city in November and so does she."
"I wonder if I'll see her again," I mused.
"She still lives in Stamford," Mom held her cup a minute. "She says whatever the change, she'll be back in Stoneybrook for the cutting of the ribbon ceremony. I have her address on file if you want it."
"Great, thanks." As I headed upstairs to the guest bedroom later that night, I thought about Ms. Silverbein. She'd stood by us back in high school when the BSC launched Operation Today's Good Youth by mailing letters to the editors of the northeastern newspapers protesting the negative image the media had then of our generation. Back then, there were still a lot of unenlightened people and some of them had given Ms. Silverbein a hard time over the letters, thinking that kids should be "seen, not heard." Ms. Silverbein had stood firm and behind us one hundred percent, which had helped wrest Stoneybrook High from under the domination of a powerful clique that had terrorized the school then. She and I have something in common now, I thought, laying my insulin patch on the dresser for tomorrow. I have diabetes too, but mine's type one while Ms. Silverbein probably has type two. I wondered if she now needed to wear an insulin patch for ten minutes each day like me. Thank the stars the days when diabetics had to prick themselves with a needle to get their insulin and severely limit their sugar intake are gone. Syrie and I ended up brushing our teeth together.
"It's good seeing Grandma again," she told me as I sat and peed.
"It is," I nodded.
"Are we going to come here for Thanksgiving or the holidays?" Syrie put her toothbrush away.
"Most likely for Thanksgiving," I told her. "Some of the BSC are coming too."
"G'night, Mom..." Syrie gave me a little hug and I gave her a good night kiss, dropping a wad of toilet paper.
"Goodnight, love," I said softly and she headed to bed. A few minutes later, I headed to bed myself and curled up with a good book. About a half hour later, Mom came by to say goodnight.
"That's blanket's warm enough?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Well, goodnight, dear."
"Night, Mom." Still my doting mom, I thought. It touched me too. That was one thing that would stay the same in this ever changing world. Drifting off to sleep, I found myself dreaming that Stoneybrook had become as large as New York.
More later!
"...I should apply anyway," I told Dawn over my cell phone as I drove home from work on a crisp, but still mild September day. As usual, the traffic was freaky, especially since it was Friday evening in the Big Apple.
"I think you'd make a swell principal," Dawn told me. "You're good with kids, especially teenagers and you've done a lot already to improve the New York school system."
"Thanks," I blush. I always blush when I'm complemented.
"How's the book coming?" Dawn asked. I'm writing a book which I hope to have finished by next year. I've published two other books, but they were non-fiction.
"Getting there," I edged my car off the main city highway and turned toward the sign pointing to Hudson Ridge just outside of New York. Once I managed to clear the ramp, traffic lightened up considerably and the tall buildings and skyscrapers gave way to houses and apartments intermingling with shopping centers and malls. As my stepsister and I talked more, I silently marveled over how New York City's grown even BIGGER since I first came here as a college student. Once we'd hung up and I got home, I thought over how it was the eighteen-year anniversary of the World Trade Center disaster a few days ago. The first World Trade Center had been a huge steel and glass skyscraper then. Most buildings today are made of stronger, more durable brick or iron. Back then, terrorism was rampant and Afghanistan was ruled by the Taliban and it was the Mysoginocide era. Close to one million women had perished over there. Meanwhile, in September 2001, over three thousand people in the first WTC had died when two hijacked planes crashed into the buildings, which had been two skyscrapers. My friends and I had been college freshmen then and it had been scary, especially since Kristy, Mona, and I had been in NYC for college. I'm so glad my kids are living now instead of back then during that war and the Mysoginocide. The current WTC is one tall building of brick and iron and is just one tower. Near it is a huge memorial and museum as well as a wing on the Mysoginocide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was close to midnight before I got up to stretch and close down my computer for the night. Alma had gone to bed and Tamara was reading and listening to the radio. As I passed her room, I could hear Bonfire's soft rock pulse around her room. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a soft creak downstairs. I froze a minute. Hearing nothing more, I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed my mouth out. I'd just gotten in bed with a book when I heard the creak again, this time with a soft scraping sound. Closing the book, I quietly headed downstairs. Thank the stars it didn't sound like anyone breaking in. I walked around the dark downstairs a minute. Once back in the living room, I flipped on the light and to my reassurance, nothing was out of place; nothing looked strange. Our cat, Sunset, was lying beneath the coffee table, batting a toy around and when she bit it in a certain way, it creaked. Her claws occasionally scraped the coffee table. *Oh* I mouthed.
"Oh, hello, Sunset..." I said softly. Sunset peered up at me, then went on playing with her toy. I swallowed, whether from relief or anxiety, I didn't know. "Goodnight, pookie-kins..." I whispered after a minute, then headed back upstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STACEY:
I wound up visiting the old town that September and staying at Mom's house along with Syrie. As I drove down toward my mom's house, I looked around, mentally comparing the old town now to how it looked years ago when my friends and I were growing up here. It certainly does have the feel of a small city with more traffic, houses and apartments clustered closer together, shorter blocks, and more crowds, not to mention the ever expanding financial district. The area that had been once been the only downtown area had grown and now resembled Wall Street and mid-city Stamford combined. Over dinner that Saturday night, I updated Mom on the latest development in my experiment.
"Just think, maybe we won't need wires and poles to get electricity moving anymore if your experiment works," Mom smiled as she sipped her tea.
"Yeah, hard to imagine."
"Guess who I ran into last time I was in Stamford?" Mom asked.
"No...who?"
"Leah Silverbein."
"No kidding!" I nearly fell out of my chair. Ms. Silverbein was the principal of our old high school, Stoneybrook High. She's long retired and eighty-two now. "How is she?"
"She's getting along in years and has diabetes, but is doing all right." Mom told me. "She now has seven grandchildren and one great-granddaughter."
"Oh, my goodness," I sipped my tea. "I wonder if she's been in touch with SHS."
"She has been. She still gets their newsletter and is keeping tabs on the conversion of Stoneybrook. I think this town will turn into a city in November and so does she."
"I wonder if I'll see her again," I mused.
"She still lives in Stamford," Mom held her cup a minute. "She says whatever the change, she'll be back in Stoneybrook for the cutting of the ribbon ceremony. I have her address on file if you want it."
"Great, thanks." As I headed upstairs to the guest bedroom later that night, I thought about Ms. Silverbein. She'd stood by us back in high school when the BSC launched Operation Today's Good Youth by mailing letters to the editors of the northeastern newspapers protesting the negative image the media had then of our generation. Back then, there were still a lot of unenlightened people and some of them had given Ms. Silverbein a hard time over the letters, thinking that kids should be "seen, not heard." Ms. Silverbein had stood firm and behind us one hundred percent, which had helped wrest Stoneybrook High from under the domination of a powerful clique that had terrorized the school then. She and I have something in common now, I thought, laying my insulin patch on the dresser for tomorrow. I have diabetes too, but mine's type one while Ms. Silverbein probably has type two. I wondered if she now needed to wear an insulin patch for ten minutes each day like me. Thank the stars the days when diabetics had to prick themselves with a needle to get their insulin and severely limit their sugar intake are gone. Syrie and I ended up brushing our teeth together.
"It's good seeing Grandma again," she told me as I sat and peed.
"It is," I nodded.
"Are we going to come here for Thanksgiving or the holidays?" Syrie put her toothbrush away.
"Most likely for Thanksgiving," I told her. "Some of the BSC are coming too."
"G'night, Mom..." Syrie gave me a little hug and I gave her a good night kiss, dropping a wad of toilet paper.
"Goodnight, love," I said softly and she headed to bed. A few minutes later, I headed to bed myself and curled up with a good book. About a half hour later, Mom came by to say goodnight.
"That's blanket's warm enough?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Well, goodnight, dear."
"Night, Mom." Still my doting mom, I thought. It touched me too. That was one thing that would stay the same in this ever changing world. Drifting off to sleep, I found myself dreaming that Stoneybrook had become as large as New York.
More later!
