When I researched this song title, I noticed that although it was part of the Christian influence that Dylan produced, he had some interesting insights at the time. He refused to do a second take on any of songs during production, claiming “I will not sing the same song twice in a row, that’s terrible.” -Dylan.

I fond myself feeling this way as I recited my recent discoveries to the people in my life. And I knew that in the end, I too would not sing the same song twice. I was going to get closure, and not be fooled again.

 

You know when you have to give a speech in high school or a presentation in your adult life, or any time when you have to be the sole conversationalist in front of a large group of people? Everyone gets nervous, I don’t care who you are… there are always nerves about something. And if you have ever shared your fears with someone, chances are they have told you to “picture them in their underwear.”  Not only does that completely fail to work EVER, but I really wish we would stop handing out that old line of advice because it really is weird. My fear is usually that someone I am giving a speech to will stare at me blankly, not even giving me the slightest nonverbal cue that everything was going to be okay. This same feeling washed over me when I sat for twenty whole minutes at the dining room table in Kim’s house. While I poured out my theories to her and justified them using my ever so technologically advanced beverage napkin. I waited for her to stop me mid sentence, to throw me out or worse, call for mental assistance. I worried she would never talk to me again, that I wouldn’t be allowed to be part of her life. All of these anxieties rushed through me as I spilled the words from my mouth, detailing my beliefs. In the end, she smiled, although it was not given solely to comfort me, as I could see the pain, disbelief and pity in her eyes. But she did not throw me out, she did not call to have me mental health arrested, and the hug she gave me, the tight embrace that lasted for several minutes; well that told me that I was going to be a part of her life forever. And that was it. I spoke, she listened, and we shared a hug that told me this was the right thing to do. A million pounds of worry and stress washed right off of me in that moment. I had told what I believed to be the truth, my truth, to the people closest to me in my life and they had both understood. In fact, they did more than offer their blessing, they got on board to help. I know, and interesting trio we were; the daughter of a deceased man and his two ex-wives going after suspected killers. Even in my mind now I can see the memes of us all dressed in black and snooping around alleyways. But I didn’t give a shit. This felt right, this felt necessary, this felt like saving my father’s legacy.

I told Kim about the plan I had made with my Mother to return back to Texas and stall the move as long as possible. I explained how we didn’t want Steve to get suspicious, and we certainly didn’t want him running off to California without seeing me first, so I had to leave Wednesday. I had 48 hours to take care of the immediate needs here in town, before I went off to catch a killer. Sounds dramatic right? But honestly, that is what we were doing. Kim asked me if there were any of Dad’s belongings that I already knew I wanted. She said she would be sure to check the inventory for them, and work with my already set platoon of Polish women to obtain them from the auction. “They are looking to inventory tomorrow or Wednesday and have the auction house booked for Friday.” she explained. “It’s such bullshit!” my words came out a bit stronger than I anticipated. “I’m sorry Kim, I just can’t believe that this is what he would have wanted. He was a smart man, I can’t believe he didn’t know this was going to happen by giving McCrabben a controlling percentage.” I had managed to lower my voice, but I couldn’t stop it from shaking as I spoke the words. “I agree with you Dana, but then again I can only speak of the man I was married to for all those years. He started to change when he left, and I don’t know what he could have been thinking when he drew up this will.” As she spoke, her gaze moved from me to the window. It was as if she was looking for the answer to just write itself in the fresh blanket of snow covering the back lawn.

“I would really like to have his iPOD and his guitar.” I told her. I know that Dad loved music and I think it would be great to have something that held all the songs he listened to and loved. Plus, the last time I saw him he was playing the guitar. It would mean a lot to me to have those things. Is that okay with you?” I asked the question because it was the right thing to do, but secretly I was crossing my toes that these were not items that she was already interested in. I would have given them up to her of course. ” That’s absolutely fine.” Kim agreed. “I was also hoping for his white English Laundry long sleeve button down. But when we were in the house picking out clothes that day, I couldn’t find it. ” It was true, I had already eyeballed the closet for this shirt. It was the shirt my father wore each time we went somewhere special together in my adult years. It was linen with some designs stitched into the front. I had many fond memories of him wearing that shirt. “It’s probably at the cleaners, she said. He used Julian’s Dry Cleaners on Blossom Road. I thought about this for a second. Wow, my father was gone and his clothes were sitting at the dry cleaners. I wonder how many orders they have compiled over time of people who just never cam back? Did the people at the cleaners ever wonder what happened to these people? Because let’s face it, if you aren’t dead you want your clothes. I had never thought about that before. Well I wasn’t going to let my father’s beautiful white linen sit among the other forgotten garments. I would visit Julian’s after leaving here.

Kim and I finished up a few more details and planned to talk again soon. She said she would let me know when the inventory was complete, and the time that the auction was finalized for. We said our goodbyes and hugged, just in case I didn’t get back over here before Wednesday. It wasn’t as sad as it had been in the past, because I knew I was going to be back here soon. Hopefully to testify against the conspiracy trio in court. Saying goodbye to Kiera was a bit more challenging. She was in her room playing and watching tv (a great multitasker that kid). I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold back the floodgates of tears for long so I gave hugs and kisses and promised to see her soon. As I closed the door to Kim’s house behind me, I gave in to the emotion and allowed the sad tears to fall. Yes I hate the snow, yes there are NO jobs in Rochester, but I do miss my family.

As I walked to the car I noticed that yet another fresh blanket of snow had covered the windows. Fuck. Honestly, it is as if you never want to stop driving because it inevitably means you are going to have to brush your car off…AGAIN. I repeated the usual routine and hopped in the car to begin warming my extremities. I checked out my list about going to UPS and calling Steve. Finding Martin was another bullet listed, but none of these things appealed to me at the moment. I have time, I think I will head to Julian’s. I could use a little good in my day and having that linen shirt I coveted so much would be just the thing.

Julian’s on Blossom hasn’t moved in basically forever, so although I had never been there, I still knew right where to go. I pulled into the parking lot and swore to myself that this was going to be a quick stop. I was not in the mood to do the snow brush song and dance again. A bell on the front door announced my arrival, and a lovely Italian woman greeted me within moments. She had a small frame and thick auburn hair that was laced with grey. Perhaps she had tried to color it, but it really suited her. Glasses hung from her neck on a rose gold chain for easy access and her brown eyes were warm as she spoke. “Can I help you dear?” Her words were calm and soothing. “Yes please ma’am, I would like to pick up an order for Jeffrey Smith.” I tried to hide the anticipation in my voice, being this close to his shirt was the most excitement I had felt in over a week. “We don’t normally release clothing to anyone other than the owner dear, are you related?” Her voice remained polite and warm as she explained the rules to me. “I am his daughter, and he has recently passed. There is a shirt that I am hoping was laundered here recently and I was hoping to have it to remember him by.” I tried to keep my voice as matter of fact as possible. I didn’t want her eyes to change from warm to pity, I had experienced enough of that. “Why of course dear, do you have any identification bearing the same last name?” Was she fucking kidding? Seriously, is she trying to make a joke? Yes ma’am, I can prove to you I am related by showing you an ID with the last name of Smith. We are of course the only Smith family in Rochester, probably in the whole state of New York!. I pushed the thoughts from my head, no time for sarcasm now, I needed a favor and if she needed to see identification bearing the ever common last name of Smith to grant it, well then I was happy to oblige.  This was the first time that I would realize that my laziness of getting my ass to the Department of Motor Vehicles for a name chance was actually going to work in my favor. I reached into my purse and pulled out my drivers license. I handed it to the kind woman and she started typing in her computer. Since I obviously didn’t have a claim ticket, she was going to have to look one up. “Oh dear,” she said, almost in a whisper. My head snapped up to attention and I stared at her waiting for her to finish the words that would follow. “It seems that someone has already called about this order and asked that it be put on hold. She doesn’t have the same last name but she stated on the phone that she had paperwork to prove she could have it.” I sucked in a deep breath trying to calm the adrenaline that was beginning to pump through my veins. ” Her name wouldn’t happen to be Kim McCrabben, would it?” I asked the question even though I was certain it was probably rhetorical in a sense. “Why yes, ” the woman replied, “do you know her?” My body was shaking by now, from my trembling fingers to my wobbly knees that were threatening to give way at any moment. I was so close to having something, one fucking thing that was going to make me happy, and she was going to try and take this as well? The emotions of my recent discoveries and theories flooded through my brain fogging my vision to the point that I thought I was going to pass out. I reached out and grabbed onto the counter for support. It felt cold under my hand and I finally realized I was so angry I had started to sweat, or maybe it was all the layers, but the cold counter felt good against my bare hand. “Are you okay Ms. Smith?” I could hear the concern in the woman’s voice.”Should I be calling for medical assistance? You don’t look very well.” She reached across her register toward the phone. “No,” I breathed, “I will be fine.” I knew I had to say something, anything, to get my hands on that shirt before the bitch from beyond waltzed her double wide ass in here to take it. She would probably just throw it out anyways. Or re-gift it. Yes, she seemed like the type to re-gift.

I steadied myself back to standing position so that I could look the kind woman in the eyes. I explained to her that I was his daughter and (in the nicest way I could muster in front of my elder)  how McCrabben was a dirty little hooker who was trying everything in her power to make my life miserable. I told her about my connection to the shirt and how I just wanted to finally have something to remember him by. You know that weren’t golf clubs or beer steins. “I realize you have rules ma’am, but since I am here and I have proof that I am his daughter, couldn’t we just say that I got here first and there was nothing you could do?” I gave her the best smile I could at the moment, even though I was seething about my current situation. She paused for a moment, clearly contemplating the options. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and turned on her heel disappearing into the racks of clothes. When she finally emerged she was holding a bag containing four dress shirts. I held my breath as I reached for the hangers, hoping with everything I had that I would find my beloved white shirt mixed into the pile. I turned back the hangers to the middle and gasped. I sucked in the biggest amount of air and exhaled with relief and smile. There it was, the white shirt with the designs embroidered on the front. She shirt that made me think of my Dad in every positive way, the one that reminded me he too was a person. I peeled away a little bit of the bag at the top and stuck my nose inside the plastic. There it was, the distinct smell of his Clinique Happy cologne. It occurred to me for a brief second that it was odd to pay for “cleaning” of a garment if it was returned still smelling of the person, but for this particular time, I did not care. I was glad that whatever they do to dry clean a shirt clearly wasn’t washing. This meant I could keep the smell bottled inside the plastic bag for as long as I wanted. My day dreams were interrupted by the bell chiming from the door, announcing another customer. I quickly paid the woman for the clothes and collected the receipt. As she handed me the change I touched her hand and smiled. “Thank you,” I told her “you will never know what you have done for me.” She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. I could read her kind response through her twinkling brown eyes.

I made my way back to the car and carefully hooked my treasure in the back seat. Whoever invented those hooks for cars truly was a genius. I stopped for a minute to gaze at my surroundings and take in the scene of triumph I had just won. I took a mental picture of the building and began to think that maybe in some moments the snow really wasn’t that bad, maybe in some moments it was even beautiful. My heart filled with warmth and victory I turned to open the drivers side door and for the first time since I left the building I noticed that the car was covered in snow, yet AGAIN. And in that instant I changed my mind, it wasn’t beautiful, it was still fucking snow. Cold, horrible, pain in the ass SNOW. And as victorious as I was against McCrabben in that moment, I was still a loser in the battle against mother nature.