Your Slideshow Starts Now

The photographic results of Condo Mania, as opposed to Condomania, a term which, according to one close friend, has disturbing prophylactic connotations, appeared in the SJG inbox yesterday. The experience of seeing my dad's de-cluttered, de-tchotchked Spacious Two Bedroom in Desirable Area captured in a slideshow, with a dreamy musical track, has set me back, emotionally, about 37 years. I only spent a few months living the chic condo lifestyle, and yet, I feel my life all over that slideshow. There's the living room, the center of many birthday parties, from my dad's 60th to my son's first.  There's the dining room, where we fressed and laughed and cream cheesed our bagels. That spot right there... that's where Andy and Allison announced their engagement and we all started screaming with delight. And the den... excuse me, Second Bedroom with Walk-in Closet, that's where I sat with my dad after lunch, and talked about life and writing and what kept him going after my mother died. Oh, and there's the Sunny Kitchen, where the caregivers made my dad the few things he'd eat, and of course, the all-important Hot Black Coffee... Decaf.  And look, there's the Master Bedroom with Patio, where he stubbornly fought off the inevitable. Those slides were much harder to watch. Even the dreamy music didn't make it easier. After about the fifth viewing, the insurmountable shock started to transform into a semi-managable, overwhelming sadness.  So now we turn the place where he used to live, so happily with my mom, and then later, alone, over to the real estate mavens.  Let them work their magic.  Let them promote all the amenities. Apparently, it's time to move on, whether we like it or not.  It's time for someone else's slideshow to start.