A distant remembrance of the guys above flashed to my mind this morning. Memories from my childhood. Nugget and Dusty at the home of my grandparents here. On North Wayne Ave in Wayne, Pa.

A grand Spanish styled place. Long drive way. Circular at the end. As you approached the front of the house, a double paneled front door greeted you. Opening to small foyer. Facing you was a staircase as you entered. Leading up to a landing. A picture window there providing a view of a beautiful pond in the rear of the house off a vast flagstone porch. Mallard ducks occasionally swimming playfully there. A picnic area with a large stone fire place nestled in left corner of the property. Just a grand place. Standing on the landing …an unmistakable smell of mothballs upstairs preserving closets of fine clothes.
Up a few more stairs turning right … a den just on the right. I’ll always remember that case/closet housing those rifles … hunting rifles. Turning around, walking further down the hall was a curved, downhill passageway that led to bedrooms on the backside of the house. I remember running down that hallway gleefully with my cousins … over and over.

My morning stream of consciousness brings an experience to mind. We used to play hide and seek in the house. So many places to hide. My Uncle Bobby joined us all once as we began a game. He knew the house so well after decades living there. He hid. We looked all over. Couldn’t find him. Anywhere! Where could he be? Behind two doors near the kitchen inside a laundry shoot. You know. You sent your clothes to the basement through the long shoot to the laundry in the basement. Well, Uncle Bob had wedged himself, hanging inside behind the laundry shoot doors. We never did find him. He finally called out revealing his spot. Ha! He won! What a memory that was.

My grandparents had those two beautiful golden retrievers above. Very Mail Line like. A butler and maid who lived in the house. Morris and his wife Pearl. So warm and friendly. Gracious really. Very Main Line.

The first floor of the home had a two sectioned room living area. A piano with a fireplace in the first section. A famous painting by Charles Morris Young hanging on the wall. Portraits of my Uncles, my Aunt and my mom prominently displayed on the walls as well.
As you moved on to the second section of the large living space, a beautiful sun room with a small gurgling fountain … the focus for me. An elegant white sculpture placed in the middle of it. A TV … couches and chairs. A larger fireplace in this section … usually aflame. Oriental rugs. Windows throughout. Brightened things so. Just a great place I wasn’t going to fully appreciate as a child … but do so appreciate today.

Downstairs a spacious card room with a dart board. Brother Tuck managed to lodge a sharp one in my neck one day while playing. Thanks “T” !! A huge boiler room in the basement. Looked to me at my young age like a set up at Cape Canaveral!  

My grandmother. We all called her Mema. Simply elegant. Great posture. Very proper but at the same time always warm. Conversant. A very distinctive laugh. Always had such a gracious, refined presence. Great figure she passed on to her daughters. Don’t think I ever heard her raise her voice. Rarely hugged me, but always greeted me with a welcoming smile. Clearly the lady of the house.

My grandfather. We called him Pop. Gruff, but he laughed a lot. Tough guy. Had been sales executive with Midvale Heppenstahl, a local steel company. Don’t think I ever knew him as anything but retired. Would always find him in a chair (the “Bear Chair”) in the living room near the gurgling fountain. My clearest memory of Pop? This repeated behavior … beginning with a drag on a Chesterfield cigarette. Followed by a sip of Dewars Scotch and then exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. Over and over. He later died of leukemia. In charge. The man of the house.

There was always lots of alcohol when our clan gathered on North Wayne. Would eventually surface that alcoholism gripped my mom, my Uncle Bobby too. I knew their two other siblings drank too much too. Only my mom and Uncle openly declared themselves to be alcoholics. But I truly think all four of them had similar problems.

My cousins? What a cast of characters! Petey, Chandi, Todd, Hank, Lissy, Cindy, Peter, Gus, Gracie, Gibby and Tommy. Hope I got ‘em all? There were all those Christmases! Presents galore. Fun, chaos. Hilarious! My dad had a ritual every year. We each came out a door (coatless despite close to zero temps) opening onto the back patio where he filmed us all. Maybe ten years of this. What a progression of ages … these movies were wonderful.

Then there those Christmas dinners. There was the “adult” table. All the grown ups sat there. My cousins and I were relegated to the “kids” table. Think there were actually two “kids” tables. Even when we reached our twenties we sat there. Laughter, mischief … so much fun. Remember my grandmother extending her foot under the dining room table to push the buzzer summoning the “help” for service. Morris in his white coat. What different times these were.

I will never forget one Christmas. We all were in our designated places. Toasts weren’t customary. But my grandfather decided it was time for this one … “You’d better enjoy this Christmas. This one. Because it may be your last!” So much for a “Ho Ho Ho” Christmas!!

In so many ways our gatherings on North Wayne defined a lot of who we all were to become. The grandeur of my grandparent’s home signaled that we were part of something special, something distinctive. My expectations were bolstered as I grew up and people would say, “Oh, I know your grandparents.” Or “Boy, are you lucky to be part of the Ziesing family.” There was the Merion Cricket Club, the Junior League. Deb Parties and cocktail hours. Big beautiful cars. All the trappings of status and wealth. Stuff the Main Line of Philadelphia truly valued most in a family in those days. But it gave me a sense I needed to live up to the class my family exemplified, was known for.

One last memory of my grandparent’s home I will never forget. My Uncle Gil and Aunt Teedee’s wedding reception. It took place on the sweeping lawn in the back of the house leading to the backyard pond. Everything was done so beautifully. It was the first and only time I wore a white dinner jacket with black tie.

This was a formal, totally festive affair. Signature for me? Two things. They built a dance foot either bordering or just out over the pond. Full orchestra. Looked like a scene out of the movie, “Philadelphia Story.” But what really blew me away?! There was an ice cream bar. All the ice cream you could eat! I was ten. My fetish for ice cream had already lodged in my bones. Still there. All the ice cream I could eat!! Wow! While all the other guests were enjoying their cocktails … I was planted in front of that ice cream bar gorging myself close to barfing!

North Wayne Ave. My cousins could and should add pages of their own memories here for sure.

This place and all it’s events, experiences defined me… sets expectations for myself. Filled me with a spirit of growth, success. Failures, hardship … run through my mind as well as I remember those days. Oh, one last thing that in a small way tells me how lasting this all has been?

My beloved cousin who has lived in San Francisco for maybe 40 years? The last four numbers on her cell phone all those years have been and have remained … “4522” The last four numbers on my grandparent’s home phone 70 years ago? “4522.”