Alright. I think I’ve calmed down enough to post this. Picture it: Long Island, Thanksgiving 2001. After a large meal and an even larger dessert, we’re sitting around the table, my father and aunt telling stories about their childhoods. They began telling stories about my grandfather, whom I’ve always known was a high level labor negotiator. He worked for Long Island Railroad and then got hired away by the feds. There are stories of New York Times front page headlines with “Riddles Avoids Strike!” All of this is old news.
So they’re talking about this, and I JOKINGLY say “So, come on, Aunt Patty. You think he knew Hoffa?” She nods and says “Know him? Hoffa gave him a watch. I wonder what happened to th…”
She stopped because I had whirled around and stared at my older sister, agast. About two years ago, my father gave my older sister a gold watch that had “United Custodial Union #234” or somesuch on the face. I was annoyed that it wasn’t offered to me, but that’s just sibling stuff.
It’s the same watch. So my older sister now has Hoffa’s watch. My father swore that my grandfather wasn’t connected because A.) He was Irish and B.) He took WAY too much pride in his job. He was damn good at finding the middleground, not being in someone’s pocket. None the less…
Isn’t it fun when Hoffa’s watch falls out of the closet instead of skelatons during Thanksgiving?
