Saturday, February 14, 2009

Back In Boston, The Magic Of Jay In 1963


I used to spend the occasional weekend in New York City when I lived in Boston. The New York, New Haven, and Harford Railroad had a deal where you could catch a train on Friday evening, then take a return trip Sunday evening, and make the round trip between Boston and New York for $12.48. Of course you got about no sleep for those two nights, and you'd party all night Saturday, but we were young and the world was exciting, too exciting to waste time sleeping if there was an interesting enough alternative.
Returning to Boston one Sunday I sat next to a tall blonde girl from Scarsdale. She was then going to take a bus to her exclusive prep school on Cape Cod. I had no phone but we exchanged addresses. We exchanged a couple of letters, then one evening there was as knock on my door. Jay was standing there suitcase in hand. I invited her in, we ate some dinner, and I convinced her that we really should call her folks so they wouldn't worry. The next morning her dad was at my place in Boston to reclaim his daughter.
About a week later there was another knock on the door. There was Jay again. I called her dad. He said that coming to get her again was probably a futile gesture. He thought that I was a responsible guy and he'd rather have Jay living with me then being God knows where. He offered to send me a check every week. Jay and I made several trips to Scarsdale to visit her folks. Life was good. I was in love. It lasted for about a year. She ran off with someone else. I called her dad and returned his last check. I recall running into her one more time a few weeks later.
That's Jay in the top three frames of strip #376. I remember most of the other people on the contact sheet, but not their names. There was no need to.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Pikemann Urge said...

I don't know if you'd go so far as I do, but this post makes me realize how much in love with photography I am: nothing is worth doing if you can't take a camera. If I can't take a camera somewhere then why am I going? For me, everything exists for the sake of being photographed.

I'm not deadly serious, but scarily serious enough!

5:31 AM  

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