The summer of '63 dragged on with the intolerable heat sapping our energy. Joy and I made the best of it. We saw Joan Baez and Ella Fitzgerald in concert. Bob Dylan made a brief appearance at Joan's concert which caused a rapturous response from everyone there. We went to see Beyond the Fringe and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf on Broadway--two plays that couldn't have been more different.
Dudley Moore burst on the scene in Beyond the Fringe.
Two friends from Wesleyan, both named Susan, visited us for a weekend. I remember having a wonderful time and I think we sneaked into the Joan Baez concert, but time has blurred the memories. Or maybe the fact that alcohol was consumed has blurred those summer memories from long ago.
Every week on my day off I made the long trip to where my mother and little brother were staying and then took Jim into New York City for lunch. Jim didn't say much and he had a pinched, anxious look. He had been snatched away from his home and family by my mother for reasons that were never made clear. Every day he was left alone in their small apartment while my mother went to work. He had no friends, no books or toys and nothing to do all day.
Jim was just a little boy and he had no idea why he was suddenly living in New York. I thanked God every day that I was nearby that summer and that he could turn to me for companionship. Joy went with me on one visit and spent the day with us. We took Jim to the park and while he was on the swings Joy said to me she thought he was very depressed. When it was time to go home, Jim refused to leave the park and I knew then how desperately unhappy he must be. I would have to take him back to Florida. If I had known then what actually happened that summer, I would have taken him home that day.
To Be Continued
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