Connecticut day 1

October 11

We awoke at Debby and Zvika's, totally refreshed from a good night's sleep. Today was going to be dedicated to anything Razelle desired. Our visit here to her native environs was meant to be as significant as we could make it for her. I had my trip down memory lane while we were in Orlando, FL, now it was Razelle's turn. But first, a breakfast of bagels and cream cheese from our own inventory.

Leaving Debby and Zvika's subdivision of Trumbull, CT led us along Twin Brooks Drive through a lovely municipal park. The clear morning sunlight accented the colors of the autumn leaves against the crystal blue sky and reflected their hues off the still waters of the brook so invitingly that driving through this park without capturing this scene for posterity would have been a virtual sin. I framed several images with my digital camera and snapped the virtual shutter.

We came to a covered bridge as we exited the park. I pulled into the driveway of an auto repair shop and jumped out to take pictures of Razelle posing with this iconic New England bridge and the autumn colors behind it. A woman came out of the shop and asked, "Can I help you?" I said, "No thanks, I can do this by myself," and continued to aim my camera at Razelle and the bridge. She then said, "You can't park here." I answered, "I don't plan to park here. I'm just going to take a few pictures and then drive off." It wasn't until much later that it dawned on me what she was really trying to say without actually saying it. This is what I call a "Rip-van Winkle moment." Being away as long as I have been, I find myself missing the subtleties of speech and behavior that others who have lived here all along would not miss. This has happened over and over again as I travel through this, my native land.

Near the entrance ramp onto the Parkway, Razelle saw a sign that said "Bridgeport" with an arrow pointing the way. She had to take a picture of this sign to remind herself that she had been here. And I had to take a picture of her taking this picture.

We drove to the Jewish Cemetery off Black Rock Turnpike in Fairfield where Razelle's parents are buried. But before we went in we made three stops along Black Rock Turnpike, all of them in the short distance between Tunxis Hill Road and Stillson Road: the ATM machine at Patriot National Bank where we withdrew another $250 in cash; the CVS where we finally dropped off the film Razelle has been trying to get developed and the Katona Corner Postal Unit to mail our Washington Metrorail passes back to Ralph. This postal unit was very well hidden and it took a lot of help from passersby to zero in on it.

Then we went to the cemetery and straight to the graves of Ruth and Milton, Razelle and Ralph's parents. This was Razelle's first opportunity to visit her mother's grave since she was interred here two years ago in my presence. Razelle took out the pages Ralph had prepared for her, contain prayers traditionally said at graveside, and prayed from them while I split the ball of ice we had carried all this way across America to place half of it on each of their graves (as I had done on my father's grave when we were in Ohio). These represented the spiritual place we had visited in Wyoming (the Medicine Wheel) where we had said the mourner's prayer (Kaddish) for each of our fathers around the anniversary of their respective deaths.

Many more of Razelle's relatives are buried in the plots that surround her parents' graves. Razelle related to me who had been whom. One more grave of importance eluded Razelle. We called Ralph on my cell phone and he directed us to the grave of Razelle's dear childhood friend Frances, who had died suddenly of leukemia when they were college age. I left Razelle to her thoughts while she prayed at this grave, but remained nearby.

After a while we got back into the van and began our tour of landmarks that had been important places in Razelle life. We stopped to gaze at the home in Bridgeport where her Aunt Hilda and Uncle Ernie had lived, then we drove up to the Sheridan School that Razelle had attended during her elementary school years. School buses were parked across the street waiting for the imminent ringing of the bell.

Razelle then guided us to the house beside Lake Forest Reservoir where she had lived with her father and mother and brother in earlier days. So much of what her father had wrought with his own hands to landscape the property still remained in place. Razelle paused on the steps leading into the lake and gazed pensively over their waters. She would have liked to have gone into the house and looked around, but the current occupant didn't offer to let her do that when he answered the door and Razelle didn't ask. We moved on.

Our next destination was Joan's home in Woodbridge, CT. Joan had been friends with Razelle and Frances; and Joan had been at our wedding. Razelle and I had a wonderful visit with Joan on the back porch of her home in a forested setting. Autumn in New England, slices of cheese and fruit, and nostalgic reminiscences – who could have ask for a more pleasant way to catch up with friends?

When Joan's husband Harold came home from work, we followed them in our van to a nearby shopping plaza in Milford, CT. Harold and I looked for the "talking book" Maayan wanted for Noga, but there was no such thing in the toy store there. Razelle and Joan went looking for overalls for Noga at the Oshkosh Store. They had better luck.

We took the Merritt Parkway back to Fairfield and, before exiting, entered a rest stop. This has been here for as long as Razelle can remember, but she had never in her life stopped here before. There's a first time for everything. We returned to the CVS in Fairfield to retrieve the now-developed pictures then drove to Debbie and Zvika's to leave the van.

Debbie drove us in her son Gabe's car (so she informed us) to the Chinese Restaurant she had picked out for our postponed reunion with her mother (Razelle's Aunt Mila) and now with her sister (Razelle's first cousin) Vicky as well; they arrived shortly after we did (Zvika was already waiting for us when we got there). Aunt Mila has been doubly blessed with longevity and acuity of mind and spirit. We were duly impressed with her wit. It has been a long time since Razelle and Mila and Vicky have all been in the same place. They had a lot to catch up on during this meal. The menu here was built upon the supposition that everyone around the table would pick and choose from a set of main dishes placed in the middle of the table. It was hard for us all to decide which dishes we wanted these to be so Debby took a poll then decided for all of us.

After the meal Vicky drove away with Aunt Mila and we rode with Debby through the dark in a light rain that bejeweled the windshield between intermittent swipes of the wipers. The effect was pleasingly hypnotizing (particularly since I had the luxury of being a passenger and not the driver, for a change). We made light conversation about our kids and their achievements; interesting how quickly our little ones have come of age and now have lives of their own. When we arrived at Debby and Zvika's home we got ready for bed, our last night in Connecticut. We plan to get an early start tomorrow.