Dear Adam & Dana-
Am at my desk and thought I’d drop a line re: Halloween.
When you open the door to give out candy, please make sure it’s children at the door as they’re having robbers go out on Halloween to rob people’s houses. I read it in paper.
Also, when you go to Miami on Thanksgiving, please don’t give Michael a ride anywhere as he goes to ‘bad’ places & don’t let him drive the car. Just stay far away from him. Really!!
I sent Nan the picture of you & me Adam in Boston that you gave me.
Take care of each other-
Found this just this morning.
A wrinkled piece of paper on which my mother wrote her home address and cross street.
It was in my wallet.
She must have snuck it in there with the hope that someone would find it in order to contact her (by mail, I guess) if
something happens to me.
The “PERSON”, “HE”, and “HIM” in this letter happened to be my maternal grandfather. He divorced my grandmother long before I was born, and Nan married the man I grew up knowing and loving as, my grandfather. Little did I know until my senior year of high school that (Surprise!) THAT guy wasn’t actually my “blood” grandfather. This guy in New Jersey (who never remarried and allegedly liked the occasional nookie from whores), was. Go figure. Sure I wanted him to come to my wedding. But there was my mother filling my head with the necessary commentary one needs to hear right before their big day. You know, I’m beginning to wonder if my mother (Surprise!) is really my mother…
Dementia is when the brain has deteriorated and the person cannot function rationally. So, anything he says is questionable. So, STAY AWAY from him before the wedding ’cause he’s trouble with a capital ‘T’.
I’ve tried to hire a reputable woman for him but he’d rather have his prostitutes! His friends (Frank, the barber) told me to stay away from him and concentrate on my own life. They all know he’s weird! Don’t worry. If he goes to wedding, Nan and I will gag and bind him! We’ll take care of him.
P.S. $20 is for a pizza for you and Maria.
My mother likes to move. From apartments in South Beach, to houses in LA. From studios in Greenwich Village to a pad in Las Vegas. But the one thing that has remained constant throughout is the fact that whereever she lives is FAR too remote or dangerous of a place for me to visit. Ever.
This was courageously written from the very savage-infested area known as Staten Island, New York.
Just a reminder:
Over the holidays, it would be a good idea to wear your seat belt.
And don’t ever go down to where I’m staying under any circumstances.
Most mothers, upon hearing they’ll soon be hanging out with their son’s new love interest, would react by saying something along the lines of…Wow…can’t wait to spend some quality time with them! They might suggest making dinner reservations. Meeting for drinks! Walking around the city or even take in a Broadway show!
Wait. We’re talking about MY mother.
See the attached New York Post clipping she sent me in the mail about a couple of months prior to Maria and I making the trip. I guess she had other plans for us.
May 9, 1999
You & Maria are staying near Central Park. Don’t go into Park after Dark!
Hopefully, I can see you before you leave for New York ’cause I have something for you that you can use in New York. I hope if ever you have intruders in your apartment while you are asleep and wake up, you let them have whatever they want and that way, they won’t bother you and leave you alone. Don’t start fighting with them. Keep your windows locked. You’re right on an alley on the 1st floor!
Also, drink bottled water. The pipes in your building are old and the water could contain lead.
(That’s how moms are.)