Today would be my sister Dale’s 63rd birthday. It’s hard for me to imagine Dale at 63; she died before even reaching 30. So, she has now gone from being my big sister — 2 years and 9 months my senior — to being more than 30 years my junior.
San Geraldo and I had planned to go into Málaga this morning to take care of some business. I really didn’t care what I did as long as I did something. But before we headed downstairs for coffee, San Geraldo suggested that we instead go to Bioparc Fuengirola, our local zoo. A much better way to spend a few hours and a nice way to remember Dale, who loved animals.
(Click any image to get the big picture.)
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| SIBLINGS AT BIOPARC FUENGIROLA. |
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| AND MORE SIBLINGS. |
I’m pretty sure that when she was three years old, Dale said she wanted a pony for Christmas. (Although, my parents celebrated Chanukah and not Christmas; and we lived in a 2nd-floor walk-up apartment.)
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| DALE TOLD ME THE LITTLE ROUND THINGS ALL OVER THE GROUND WERE BLUEBERRIES. I BELIEVED HER. |
During her first year of marriage, and living in South Yorkshire, England, with her husband, Dale was outside the house one evening and saw her first-ever slug (those things that are basically snails without shells). When her husband went to kill it, she yelled, “Don’t! It’s cute!”
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| 1966: LOOKING AT HOUSES IN NEW HAMPSHIRE… WITH A COUNTRY CLUB… AND HORSES! (HAVING MOVED LESS THAN 2 YEARS EARLIER, THE DOWAGER DUCHESS SAID “NO.”) |
In 1962, we drove to the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania for vacation. There was a fly in the car when we left Long Island. Dale named him Seymour and wouldn’t let anyone swat him. He didn’t leave us until we reached Pennsylvania.
Six years later, we drove down to Southern Florida (same 1960 Rambler station wagon with no air-conditioning). There was a fly in the car when we left Brooklyn. Dale shrieked, “Seymour!”
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| STILL IN NEW HAMPSHIRE: DALE SETTLED FOR A PICTURE WITH A PEACOCK. |
Dale died five months before I met the incomparable San Geraldo. She would have loved him. I hope she finally got her pony.
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| SIBLINGS, 1956. |
She’ll never know just how much I miss her…
