The Rear-View Mirror is Now My Windshield…. A Reunion & a New Beginning

14 years.

That’s about half my life.  And that’s how long it had been since I’ve seen Tony Talarico.  I don’t want to get too emotional in a blog post or anything right now, but I feel I have to post something about what happened Sunday.

You could say I am somewhat obsessed with my childhood.  It was the best part of my life and I wanted to hang on.  My favorite movies are still the childhood adventure movies I watched as a kid.  My favorite songs are still the songs of my youth.  Other than my late 20s, and now 30th year, those early years were the best years of my life.  It’s when my values and view of the world was formed… it’s that grounding that I think protected me from the not-so-great tween-teenage years.  At any rate- that’s all in the memoir.  So,  during the writing of PAPERGIRL I no doubt began to terribly miss the people who were no longer in my life.  Mostly- Tony– technically my adoptive father, but really, the father who raised me.  I haven’t seen him in 14 years.

I was nervous to call him.  Scared of that initial awkwardness.  Years passed.  Fast.

As I said above, during the writing of this memoir, I began to use the “new” social networking sites to look up the Talarico family and found some “long lost cousins” and some of Tony’s musician friends.  He heard about this.  Through exchanges with several of them, I was invited to a reunion music festival Tony was putting on in Jim Thorpe.  I was a nervous wreck, but finally got up the nerve to go.  And, looking back, I had no reason to be nervous.  We’re people.  We were only separated by geography, and then time.  Too much time.

It was a tearful reunion- (when he saw me he said, “There’s my kid….”) but the tears lasted just a few minutes.  Tony went off doing what he does best- organizing musical events (not only is he in entertainer– but was also a promoter/talent agent) and put on a hell of a show.  It was just like old times- I became a kid again as he took the stage with the Holt Twins.  I was a 30-year-old sitting on the grass, but I saw my ten-year-old self swaying up front by the stage.  I helped load the van after the show, just like when I was a kid helping him and my mom tear down their equipment.

When the three of them played “Circle” by Harry Chapin- I got teary-eyed.  It was like a circle– coming back to the songs of my youth.  Then, when they played “Cats in the Cradle,” also by Harry Chapin, more tears came, because after all, it’s a song about a parent-child relationship strained by lost time.  Harry Chapin died on my third birthday- right around the time Tony had met my mom- and I learned that despite our separation, Tony told that story every time he introduced a Harry Chapin song.

I realized that even though not physically there, I have still been an important part of his life the past 14 years.  My picture was on a frame at the merchandise stand– one of me when I four-years-old.  An image of me is used on the High on the Lehigh compilation CD that was sold at the event.  A hand-drawn rendition of a photo of Tony and me whitewater rafting (when I was ten) was the artwork for the festival t-shirts.  I’ve never left him.  I realized over time how important he is to me, and the impact he had on my life while writing the memoir.  I have played around with how to frame the memoir, and I think after Sunday’s reunion, I may have a new idea. But more importantly, he’s back in my life.

Tony’s brothers- my uncles- were there.  My great aunt and uncle and second cousin were there.  Dear old family friends were there– all for Tony’s special concert… but they were also there to witness our reunion. 

There could not have been more perfect circumstances for our meeting.  It was right.  It was meant to be at this music festival, with these people.

I teared up a few times, but was pretty fine most of the day, reminiscing and laughing.  My uncle Dave and aunt Kathy- each with three daughters- both brought up my imagination as a kid.  Both talked about how the instant I showed up for visits at their respective houses, I’d want to write a movie.  Dave was red with laughter as he remembered word-for-word some of the things I wrote as a kid.  I looked down at my new “imagine” tattoo and knew I got the right word inked on my wrist, because after 14 years- that’s exactly how people remembered me.  I was proud to still be that happy-go-lucky person they remembered.  I was happy they were the same, too.

All day, people were coming up to me telling me that I made Tony’s day, and thanking me for coming back into his life.  (He had a bout of illness that left him in a coma a few years ago– he almost died.  I was unaware of that until Sunday…. He’s also legally blind now, and relies on his support network of friends/family to get him around– including promoting this concert that past six months.)  To think that this reunion may not have happened hit me hard.

What choked me up the most was at the end of the day, a gentleman came up and said, “Hi Donna.  You were so busy all day talking to people, but I am glad you are still here.  You don’t know me, but I had to meet you.  I’ve known your dad two years now and it means the world to him that you are here….” he went on from there, but to have complete strangers come up to me was such an amazing feeling.  Tony has impacted the lives of lots of people over the years, and the dozens of family members and personal friends that were there, were there for him at his reunion show to give back.  And now, I am too.

I should probably really sit down and write a nice piece about this reunion day, but I wanted to get something down quick, even if they are random scribblings on a blog.  If you are my Facebook friend, the full album is there for your viewing pleasure.

Writing a memoir has been a life-changing event.  If the story never sees the light of day, it doesn’t matter.  It’s my life.  I lived it.  I’m still living it.  And– I was able to in one day change the course of this life story.

Where will it go next?