My cousin, MaryAnn Montoya-Gehling, were talking recently about short-story writing.  She wrote a historical novel with her husband called MAN IN THE GARDEN OF THE GODS a year or so ago.  It’s about a German immigrant who settles in 18th Century Colorado.  It is set against the stunning backdrop of the Garden of the Gods and explores themes of faith, survival and the pioneering spirit during the American Frontier era.  It recently inspired me to write a short story for her using a photo of MaryAnn (herself) with her doll, Rosemary:  

Innocence Revisited, A Short Story 
by Michael J. Armijo 

I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods. For instance, it was the beginning of winter in early November of 1948. There is a cute little white picket fenced house where my friend, MaryAnn, lived. 

The party was over, and MaryAnn wanted complete solitude from her siblings. MaryAnn had stunning dark hair and brown eyes that sparkled. Her smile enhanced her dimples which were in all the “right” places. It was much too chilly to be outside. MaryAnn was content with her new doll, Rosemary. The new doll had the crystal blue eyes that MaryAnn always wanted. MaryAnn found a new friend she could love and confide in. It was the most wonderful birthday gift for any five-year-old girl. 

MaryAnn loved to play “make believe” with her new doll. She would have grown-up conversations with her so-called baby, Rosemary, in the forthcoming weeks. One could never forget the conversation she had this spine-tingling chilly day as she looked out of her winter-fogged kitchen window. 

“Now, now, Rosemary, I am in-charge, and you must do what I say, okay? After all, I change your clothes every day. I take very good care of you, don’t I?” MaryAnn asked, stroking her doll’s hair. MaryAnn assists in having Rosemary nod affirmatively. 

“Look outside now! Do you see how cold and dark it is? Well, it really is not all that cold and ugly you know. It’s just that time of the year, silly. Soon it will be Thanksgiving, and we get to eat turkey with all the sweet potatoes and marshmallows. We have a lot to be thankful for. Sometimes things do appear cold and scary, but you must look deep into your heart to find what is warm. For example, do you see those snowflakes that just fell on Daddy’s truck? It is making a kind of warm, white blanket to keep his truck warm tonight.” 

Rosemary nods thanks to MaryAnn. 

“I want you to know that I will always keep you warm, Rosemary, because I love you. You are my baby. You make me laugh and I make you laugh.” MaryAnn continued. 

Rosemary laughs. 

“You will always be a part of me, Rosemary. And when I leave the house tomorrow with my sister and Daddy, I promise to tell you where we go and what we do. I might even buy you something special. You see, sharing stories and laughing is all part of loving each other. When I grow up, I will always tell you a bedtime story. Wouldn’t you like that? Now you must go to sleep. I promise to wake you tomorrow. If you sleep extra well, you can play with me tomorrow.” MaryAnn laid Rosemary on a large, flower-patterned pillow and closed her eyes, kissing the rosy-cheeked doll goodnight. 

When I look back to having witnessed this conversation, I recall how simple life really can be to a child. I sometimes wish I were a child again. If only adolescents and adults alike remembered those special moments as a child life would be easier. It is time to remind myself and other people to remember so that our quality of life can improve. When I revisit my innocence, I realize the child in me will never be lost. 

August 24, 1999 
Back in L.A. again--but something unsettled me today. I felt a tad distraught—because of my niece, Ashley Armijo.  Her lack of communication has lingered in my thoughts.  I sent her an email I hope she digests—not with anger—but with understanding.  It wasn’t just about silence.  It was about kindness—or the absence of it.  

The thought of my brother, Tony, divorcing Helen lingered.  I re-read an email that Helen had sent me after she told me the news (although I already knew from my mom, providing me with some tidbits of it happening):  

I sent off a Travel International Barbie for my cousin Marie-Antoinette Araya’s granddaughter, Destyne, who just turned three. 

Then I had a farewell lunch with Monica Small at the Cheesecake Factory in Marina del Rey.  She’s off to Missouri with her German-Christian–World Wide Web–kind of husband. Strange pair… but maybe they will work. 

August 26, 1999 
I flew to New York City with Alan and Lauren to help Lauren settle into her new New York University dormitory.  We all had Dinner with Sam and Miriam at Ben’s Deli—a semi-delightful evening.  Sam is Lauren’s maternal grandfather, a Holocaust survivor.  
We also picked up some of Lauren’s stuff from their ‘Silence of the Lambs’ basement. No joke. Spooky storage.  

Speaking of Spooky, while I was on the plane today, flipping through the in-flight magazine, I saw a photo of Alfred Hitchcock—1953, staring out ominously from the edge of an airplane door. And immediately I thought of Paloma.  She loves Alfred Hitchcock films (as do I).  

I wrote her a Note from New York, using the hotel Le Parker Meridien stationery:  

August 25, 1999, Thursday Night 

I’m here in New York right now, not on vacation but for what some might call “work”—helping Lauren move into her dorm. It’s been a whirlwind, but by Sunday evening we should be all done with that chapter. 

Oh yes—The French Consulate sent me a card about a new film by Patrice Chéreau. I wonder if you’ve seen it? Or if it’s playing out in L.A.? If not, maybe I’ll catch it here while I'm in the city. 

Anyway, I’m tired now, so I’m heading to bed. Lauren’s in the shower, and Alan’s still unpacking. 

I’ll be flying back to L.A. on September 5. Don’t be afraid to e-mail me at armijo59@hotmail.com. 

While on the plane I saw this picture of Hitchcock and thought of you.  I liked how it used this quote by him: “Always make the audience suffer as much as possible.” 
—Alfred Hitchcock 

The article continued with these words as I know you can relate:  

There's no denying that an Alfred Hitchcock thriller—in the most cerebral of ways—sets your nerves aflutter. Slick, stylish, and oh-so-suspenseful, his films simmer just beneath the surface. Known as the “Master of Suspense,” he was also a master of the one-liner. His goal? "To simply scare the hell out of people." 
Mission accomplished. 

With love, 
Michael J. Armijo 

New York City tidbits...

August 27, 1999 

Alan and I had a great workout in at the Parker Meridien gym—part of the new rhythm. We also helped Lauren with a long day of Bed Bath & Beyond shopping. We wrapped the day with a sweet dinner: Alan, Lauren, her friend Jackie, and I at Allegria. A gentle, fulfilling kind of day. 

August 28, 1999 

Dinner round two with Sam and Miriam—this time at a Szechuan restaurant in the Little Neck area.  Little Neck? What a name for a city. 
Lauren moved into her dormitory efficiently, though she wasn’t thrilled about the small size of her dorm room. Thanks to our gym routine, lifting and assembling bunk beds felt like a breeze for Alan and I. 

August 29, 1999 
Alan, Lauren, and I strolled down to Central Park South to visit Alan’s cousin (also named Alan), his wife, Dawn, and their baby son, Benjamin. 

August 30, 1999 
We met Robin Epstein (Alan’s other cousin) at the Chelsea Market.  
We sipped tea at The Big Cup—a known Chelsea gay man’s hangout that Robin knew about—and then walked over to her LOFT Nutrition Consulting office. 
We had dinner later with a very pregnant Allison and her husband Drew (Alan’s other cousin) at The Gotham Bar.  Drew is 30 years old but somehow acts 50. I’m 40 and still feel...not that age.  Give me a break.  Allison’s baby (Avery or Alix) is due in early November 1999. Time moves fast. 

And for a moment, there was not struggle and all was at rest, because time seemed to have arrived at its destination. --Hernan Diaz, in his book TRUST