Her name was Catherine Fabiola Proudfoot, and I will never forget her.
It was a gentle knock, the tap-tap-tap of a squirrel crossing our roof, or the twinkly sound of a Christmas elf announcing the arrival of Santa.
In the early 1990s, my sister lived in New Zealand and worked for a traveling science roadshow. We talked on the phone rarely. It was too expensive, and the voice delay on oversea phone calls was really frustrating.
Aunt Lena’s house was perfect, in a pop-culturish sort of way. She had a tri-level before most bi-levels had developed envy of the neighbors’ extra stairways.
As a child I idolized my grandfather. One of my fondest memories is of him taking us to a neighborhood restaurant that had a little juke box in each booth. He would give my sisters and me a few quarters, and we’d flip to the “oldies” to play Grandpa’s favorites. From time to time I still hear those classics playing in my memory – from “Moon River” and “Lara’s Theme” (from “Doctor Zhivago”) to “Love is a Many Splendored Thing.”