Then I looked closely. "I have that jacket." Nana Irma was elegant and petite with the perfect figure and therefore when parting with her clothes, I really could only maybe fit into two sweaters. She always wore those classy older lady type jackets and I snapped up a Talbots-quality black and white houndstooth one and a lovely plaid that I just had to have. I didn't remember her wearing it on a special occasion or anything, I just liked it. I knew I'd probably never be thin enough to wear them but still, I wanted them all the same. I peeled the photo out of the journal and looked on the back to see:
Winterthur again! So I decided to take the jacket with me and maybe try to recreate the photo or at least a selfie at the same spot. I arrived and went right to the Visitor's Center to ask if anyone could tell me where the photo was taken. The lovely lady at the desk told me to hop on that shuttle right over there and go up to the big house, where one of the guides would surely know and would love the challenge of figuring it out!
At the entrance to the house I asked a sweet and diminutive blonde woman who I later found out was named Patti or possibly Patty. She, and every single person I came in contact with at Winterthur was an absolute god damn peach. It was the first time in a very long time that I was not dismissed or overlooked or shuffled aside. She walked me through the house to a young man who said that he agreed with Patti/Patty that the stonework on the building did not look like the houses at Winterthur. He said it was more like Hagley, whatever in hell that is. He said to double check with another guide who was in the next room. She had worked at Winterthur for thirty-some years and said that it did not look like any of the Winterthur buildings. Everyone loved the story of my wanting to recreate the photo and Patti/Patty was blown away by the fact that I have the same jacket that was worn in the photo taken in 1983. Even another woman that was, I believe, a visitor, asked to see the photo of Nana Irma. Everyone agreed she was very chic and elegant. They wished me good luck and Patti/Patty took me to see Anita (I think that's what her lanyard said) who declared that it definitely looked like the old building at Hagley, which was the original home of the du Pont's and is also a museum. I was given explicit instructions, 90s style - Take 52 then a left onto Buck Road and go straight, continue through the light and past Christchurch, they'll be signs for Hagley.
I left the house after a big thank you to Patti/Patty and again to the young man who came out to make sure I found an answer. I hoofed it all the way back down to the visitor's center where I was red in the face and not looking my best for a photo op. I hopped in Roark and entered Hagley Museum in my sat nav/GPS/map thingie. I noticed that the directions took me past Buck Road. Why trust decades of common sense know-how when I can follow Google Maps and have them send me the wrong way. Which it did. So fifteen minutes later I found myself under an overpass in a shit parking lot with litter and the backs of buildings that were a part of Hagley. Out loud I said, "What a dump...this is du Pont?! Christ I feel like I'm about to get knifed." There were signs for the museum but everything said the entrance was closed. I got out and decided to walk over, thinking maybe there would be a sign or another entrance. By one of the gates was a fella about my age, also masked up, standing by a Hagley pick up truck. I gave him the scoop and asked if he recognised the building. "Oh yeah. That's my building." Turns out that's the one he works at but it's closed since Hurricane Ida's floods messed up the basement and surrounding area. At this point my anxiety was at DEFCON 3 and I just wanted to bail on the whole idea and go straight to Ashlee's for a hug. The gentleman explained that he'd love to let me go there but he might get in trouble. I told him that this is just for a silly photo as a small tribute to Nana on her birthday and that neither she nor I would want to jeopardise anyone's job or get him in trouble, but thank you anyway. He stopped me and said how he was close to his grandmother and he could drive me up there so I could get a selfie. Perfect! (At this point in the movie, I would be saying to the girl getting in a car with a masked stranger by a river, under an overpass, "You moron, he's gonna slit your damn throat, take the thirty one dollars you have in your bag then toss your corpse in the freakin' Brandywine! Don't do it!" But if there's one thing Gavin de Becker taught me it is that I have an innate gift of fear and I felt zero fear with this man.) We drove up and around the building and boom - there it was! He let me out and said he'd do a quick U-turn. I was very self conscious and didn't take the time or care I wish I had with the photos. I knew he had work to do and didn't want to hold him up any longer than I had. I clicked a selfie of me hiding my bright red face then one of the photo (which I should have taken out of the protective sleeve!!) of Nana Irma. It's not how I envisioned either photo to be taken but it was good enough! I put my phone back in my bag and turned around to see Darnell standing outside his truck watching me. It was nice, like he felt good that he helped some random lady take a silly photo. He didn't rush me or hurry me along and even said, "That's it? You sure you got it?" Then he drove me back and dropped me at my car. While I didn't get the photo I wished for, I came across so many genuinely kind people who were kind for no reason at all. Isn't that the best sort? When there's no strings attached or anything to be gained except the good feeling that washes over you when you've been nice to someone. I just wish Nana were alive for me to tell her about my day.
(Note: I'm wearing Nana's brooches, one that I bought her at a thrift shop in Antwerp that she just loved, her silver chain and locket with photos of Uncle Bud and Aunt Helen, and two of her groovy bracelets.)
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