TOM LACASCIA
talacascia@hotmail.com
For most of our married life, my wife Ann and I lived in the New York City. We dined out a lot and both liked Sunday brunch in Greenwich Village - especially buffet style brunches that threw in a few glasses of Champagne - okay, it wasn't Moet Chandon or Vive Cliquot, but it went well with the fresh strawberries, papaya, pineapple and Bing cherries that were set in beautiful array along with a dozen or so entrees on the buffet table.
One sunny Sunday we had brunch in Greenwich Village, New York. We were having brunch at an outdoor cafe chatting about our long life together. With envy, we watched college kids and liberated youth from around the world who were filling the sidewalks. We sipped and munched as we watched excited couples taking in what we considered the most romantic and old world area of New York City.
After brunch we took a leisurely walk to Washington Square Park - the outdoor entertainment center of Greenwich Village. The sidewalk musicians from the streets and parks of New Orleans and San Francisco came to this Village center starting in early Spring. As we approached the park we heard a jazz band and a deep, throaty female voice singing.
"Some day your gonna miss me baby............." The words are sung slowly and drawn out. "Sooooooome daaaaayea yourrrrrrr gonnnnnnnna misssss meeeeee baaaaaayeaaaaby........."
As we neared the large fountain at the center of the park, we saw a band playing nearby. It was composed of a group of young men dressed in hip clothes, suspenders, Borsalino and Scala caps, and a pinched pork pie hat favored by Fred Astaire. We joined the wide circle of young people watching. There were two guitar players, clarinetist, trumpet player, accordion player and percussionist with a make-shift drum set.
The band had two dancers - a young man who mimicked Fred Astaire, hat and all. Along with him a red headed girl with bobbed hair, an Apache head band and dressed like a 1920's flapper, danced with youthful abandon to Fred's artful lead.
There was also a young female singer with black hair fashioned into a short sexy page boy, and on her right arm was a tattoo of a grinning skeleton in a cocked top hat riding a bicycle. Young as she was, she appeared to have seen all and done all a little too well - and her deep, throaty, sad voice reflected the pain. The effect was stunning - the large crowd surrounding them was mesmerized.
We felt that something important was happening. There was something here we once knew. Ann danced in place, snapping her fingers to the music - her hair was also bobbed - and, strangely, she looked like she belonged with this group. She had been transported to another time - it showed in her eyes. I felt it too.
Where had thesummer of our youth gone?
"You're gonna miss me baby.............."
Yeah......we miss you.
The band finished their set - they told us that they were from New Orleans, and their name was The Loose Marbles. We bought two of their CDs. The two dancers and the singer passed upturned hats around and collected money from the awed crowd. It was obvious that the young girls and the band wouldn't trade what they were doing for anything else.
And, for a moment, we wondered why we had strayed from the dreams of our youth.
We walked off hand in hand.
