Sometimes Never

I was 7, you were right around 6. So much, so much to bounce off of in these photos I haven't seen in sometimes 50 years, sometimes never. I remember your constant double black eyes, how all the grownups used to comment on them first thing; gained you quite a rep, as I recall. I remember thinking that you might have them forever. I also remember the block of ice onto which I pushed you, as if in a scene byFellini; were you on a tricycle? Probably my tricycle, thus the push! I believe you already had eyes of blackness at the time (from the plunge off of Villani's porch?) and this sort of made them a regular feature.

But questions loom: What was a block of ice doing out on the sidewalk in front of Einstein's? Was this before or after I launched you down the long hall stairs in the baby carriage? Whence, really, the push? We knew so little of each other then...

Still, dig that jaunty, inyerface, hands-stylishly-in-pockets pose in your previous post, at the age of 5 or so. Already you were the way you are, me already the way I am here in Japan (pointlessly). You smilingly in the party mood at Pat Villani's birthday party. I remember having suddenly to wear these weird hats out of nowhere among full-grownly female women (the men were always at work); birthday parties always were (and still are) baffling to me, as you can tell by the concentration of attention on my face, in childhood quest of some underlying element of truth to all this dubious ceremony with only caloric reward...

Is that Mom in the background, holding Sue?

That might well have been the summer you stampeded the Freihofer's bread wagon horse with a fully chewed piece of Dubble-Bubble and got away clean.

What curious tykes we are still...