Time Marches On. Remember those news reels that were shown between screenings of the feature at the “picture show” back when? Along with the cartoon and previews? It was in a Time Marches On segment at the Royal Theatre on Main Street in Gainesville, Georgia, that I first saw the horrors of the concentration camps when I was a little girl. There was no television. People listened to the news on the radio. But, at the picture show, Time Marches On had pictures. I can still see the pictures in my mind’s eye of piles of bodies and bones. I can still feel my shock and difficulty believing what I was seeing. That memory is in my mind today. Not sure why.
Time Marches On. Time to go. Time to leave this apartment for the new. For the record, I have adored the condo I am leaving. It has been a good home for two years, one of them with the love of my life – Steve. Steve is gone. I am going on Monday. The condo has sold. I will miss the view of the Observatory and the hills of Nice. I will miss the kitchen where Steve cooked a lot of pasta, meatballs, and “gravy”. I will miss the big tub in the bathroom where I would take long, hot baths. I will miss my office, Steve’s office, the uncomfortable sofa we both grew to love. I will miss our bed. Remember the musical I Do, I Do with Mary Martin singing, “This has been a very good bed….”.
Time Marches On.