[No Heating Blanket Needed]
When we [my wife and I] packed our belongings and furniture for the movers, we decided to leave behind our electric blanket (which had been given to us by S_'s parents). We couldn't imagine that we would need an electric blanket in California. The last view we had of our second-floor duplex [in Pittsburgh] was standing at the landing entrance, looking back into the living room. It was empty, and where the hardwood floor had been covered by carpets and furniture, the blonde-shellacked floor shone as beautifully as the day we moved in. Elsewhere, where the floor had been exposed to the soot of the city's dirty air, the wood was gray or black. We were shocked to see dramatically the result of a slow process of accumulation of dirt that had been invisible to us on a daily basis. There, against the front wall, alone on the expanse of floor, with Renaissance lines of perspective from the floor boards, disappearing into the distance of the back wall, was a box containing our electric blanket. On it was a handwritten note, offering the blanket as a charity, so to speak, because we were moving to Southern California.
Our last night in the city we slept at the L_'s house. J_ and A_ offered their guest room, because we would not finish moving out until late in the day, which would otherwise put us on the road late in the day, after a tiring move-out. When we arrived at their house, in the court, it was still warm--it was the end of July, and Pittsburgh's humid summer night promised sleeplessness. So J_ and A_ insisted that we sleep in their bedroom, the only room in the house with air conditioning. We had our last meal with them, and said our goodbyes before turning in, we expected to leave at dawn, before they would normally arise, and did not want to wake them. We slept poorly anyway. I was not used to air conditioning and always slept badly in closed rooms. S_ was now, at six months of pregnancy, big enough to have difficulty sleeping soundly.
We arose early. Shutting off the travel-alarm clock's raucous bell before it went off. We tried to dress and depart quietly. The car was packed with a few boxes and suitcases of things we would need in Riverside before the movers were expected to arrive. As quiet as we were, I had the impression that J_ and A_ had been woken, and were sleepily listening to us leave. We were grateful they remained in bed, allowing us to depart without repeating the previous evening's emotional farewells.
I carried our suitcase to the car, along the walks of the lovely, tree-shaded court, surrounded by row houses on three sides. No one was up and only the dimmest early light opened the morning sky. We were relieved to see that our car, parked on the street, had not been broken into. We left Pittsburgh by the same route we entered a year ago, by Murray Avenue. This commercial street, which had appeared so ugly and filthy when we saw it for the first time now was crowded with pleasant associations, and we wondered whether we would ever again live next to such a wonderful array of bakeries, deli's, and small groceries. The bakeries and bagel shops were, even at this hour, busy, with the light from the kitchens behind the retailing fronts shining indirectly out into the street. S_ now cried again, this time because we were leaving this elaborate tapestry of memory, associations, and fulfillment. For lives we could only imagine in vaguest terms, in a geographical and urban setting we had not seen before and which had terrible press coverage in the East. The ambivalence tore quietly and effectively at the excitement we felt for new beginnings. We turned toward Ohio and the long continental curve of interstate highways leading to Southern California.
----------
Oh California!
- Epiphany (August 19, 1982)
- Temptation (July 18, 1983)
- No Heating Blanket Needed (August 13, 1983)
- Bumps After the Road (August 15, 1983)
- Outside (August 23, 1983)
- All That Is Gray Is Not (August 26, 1983)
- A New World (August 27, 1983)
- Screwed-Up Resistance (September 5, 1983)
- Peace and Reconciliation (September 7, 1983)
Recent Comments