Peggy Lee And My Father's Law Office

Yesterday we sauntered downtown to Courthouse Square for a book fair on a temperate Sonoma County afternoon. The streets were cordoned off so that aspiring writers could hawk their vanity press books and the library held down the corner with a used book sale.

Whenever I walk around the square, I think of my father's office in the Empire Building years ago. Actually, decades ago now. I loved that building that once held Empire School of Law with its marble lobby and clacking elevator. My father's office, on the second floor, smelled of old books and had high ceilings and always seemed so bright and alluring.

You could look down onto 4th street from the windows and my eyes followed the smooth, warn back of his wooden swivel chair to the safe behind him dark green with gold swirls outlining the face. That safe was a child's mystery to me and I wonder what he did with it when he retired. The images reflected in my thoughts now of the smells and the sights of my father's very earnest law practice.

Yesterday though, I just sauntered through the book fair in my very meager hometown, letting my mind wander behind my tired body. I felt happy until across the table of used books a familiar voice said hello. Suffice it to say that former partners, spouses and lovers can bring up stories and events better left to the cobwebs of years past. For me, this particular ghost, though coming up on an eight year anniversary of the divorce, still holds a sharper edge than I thought or wished upon myself on a sunny Saturday in September.

We cannot usually choose our memories or our lessons. Perhaps I could have handled our interaction with more love and neutrality than I did. For me, a quick recognition and a feigned lack of emotion was my defense. The thoughts trailed on for several hours afterwards. For me, loving another human so deeply and being slayed by their rejection may be a lifetime's healing path. I shall give myself a break for still feeling the loss of someone once so very dear to me.

Strange or not, I thought of Peggy Lee and her song "Is That All There Is" to round out a tiresome week that ended on a discordant note. No breaking out the booze for me though I feel similar sentiments as if I were watching old ghosts flutter past my gaze thinking there would be more to a fire than what I saw.