Last Light on the Iris ~ Random Memory #27 ~ Texas

It was late in the day in the garden. With my camera in hand, I shot again and again as the sun was slowly sinking and a light flare illuminated the iris. The color was intense and the petals looked like stained glass. I never see iris without thinking of Tonny, my father's oldest brother, my uncle. It was his favorite flower.













There is an old suitcase in the corner of my study with bits and pieces of correspondence collected from my grandmother's house in Austin, Texas. Inside are many letters from Tonny written while he was in Europe...the ink faded, paper as brittle as autumn leaves.

Some people are simply born at the wrong time and it happened that Tonny's sojourn in Europe was cut short by the war. He returned home and settled into the house on Hartford road with my grandmother. After all, in a country on the brink of WW II, who had time for a young and talented musician from Texas? Years later, I understand how it is possible to have two lives, the one before and the one after. Tonny rarely spoke of his "bohemian life" (as the family called it) and spent the rest of his life quietly composing his music, teaching piano, caring for his mother and (in his fashion) looking after the old house.

Random Memory #27 ~ Texas

When I visit, the days have a slow heavy rhythm. Cats wander through the overgrown garden. Tonny takes the old black car and returns with kalaches, sticky sweet pastry which we eat while he drinks endless cups of strong black coffee. Smoke from his unfiltered Mexican cigarettes curls into the humidity. My grandmother sits and talks, it's what she does best. I love it as she is generous with her memories, especially at night when I crawl into her bed and listen to her stories. It's almost as if she is speaking of another family; there are those who are gone and the others bear little resemblance to the people I think I know. She never tells me to go to bed, but when I do, it is to Udie's old room. Late at night I hear Tonny at the piano and fall asleep to Chopin, Liszt and his own compositions. At night, the old house reverberates with passion and emotion.