A Legacy Project

It happened more than once. I’m sure it wasn’t anything they wanted to talk about. In the weeks before Christmas the envelopes arrived. I walked up to the house every day from the mailbox, cards in hand. Here was one from The Hertz Family, one from Santiago-Hoge, one from the Costakis family. In decades of Christmas cards, you knew what you were looking for. But a day came, there it was: Robert Holkeboer, not Robert and Katie. Joe Lewandowski, not Joe and Ann. Chuck Corwin. Not Chuck and Jackie. Just Chuck.

Chuck and Jackie were one of our favorite couples. Chuck I knew from college days. When he moved to San Francisco in the 70’s, whenever we went out there we saw him, then them. We drove up into the wine country and visited his favorite tasting rooms. Chuck worked in real estate, made more  than a good living; made a very good living. And had become a little bit posh. “This is a good cab,” he would say, swirling the wine in his glass, lowering his nose to scent it. “But in six months, judging from the bouquet,it will be a great cab.” Part of his success in real estate must have come from the impression he gave, that you were the most important person he knew. He and Jackie, and then he and Jackie and Cam, made trips back to Detroit to visit his parents. They always came for dinner. We made a crazy and fun afternoon of it. Tizi and Jackie vibed, both coming from ethnic backgrounds that clashed with their husband’s family background. Jackie came in the house exclaiming that “the mother” wanted this or that, or “then the mother said . . .”

We had no idea the marriage was in trouble. Then it was over. Making Christmas a little less merry.