Rotating Suziema's Tires: Family, Parks, Reparations, and Recuperation

Letter to my sister, who asked about Suziema's health,

She's doing well. We just took her first car trip since coming back from the hospital. We did Mill Creek Park. Great sandwich, beautiful walk around the gardens, long car trip through the rest of the park. I had no idea it was that big, and beautiful.

Funny thing. We got to the restaurant, next to the gardens. Put in our order, I left Suziema to go for a smoke, and just looked around the garden, happened to look down at my feet, and there was a brick with a name in it. Marge Walker. No shit. When I looked up a little bit, I realized there were hundreds of bricks with names on them. But the first one to catch my eye was Aunt Marg's.

Weird, because last night, late, over a few scotch rocks, I went to google maps, looked up the old Yahres address, and the Buhl House, then looked up Ma Bell. There's a flattering article about her donating all her money back to the Buhl Trust and needy children in the Sharon area. There was an article I saw that was far less flattering a couple of years ago, and as far as I could tell last night, it has been expunged. Money buys image, if you manage it. Mary B. Fucking Machiavelli has discovered the wonders of web PR.

Delving into family is not one of my favorite past-times, so it was a strange confluence of coincidences between the web searches, and Aunt Marg's commemorative brick.
And I thought I was too tired too write about all this. Well, I am. I'm not doing any of it justice. This was all going to be a wonderful blog post. Long, poetic, and valuable. Maybe just need to expand on this letter a little later.

Sorry I missed you. I wish you could have joined us for lunch.
(I'm going to just copy & paste this to the blog)
____________________________
Odd confluences of coincidences in family continues. All that, I came home to the e-mail from the sister which I responded to here, and after responding, found another e-mail from the OTHER sister in my account. She wants me to move down to Georgia. We have an estranged brother in Florida (last we knew) I haven't seen or talked to in over 30 years. I expect him to ring my door-bell about. right. now...
Ok, that didn't work. Yet.

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