I had another flash of memory from Phil’s life. That’s the first I’ve had in maybe a year.
We were at someone’s house. It was a really nice place, a brand new Ranch-style home in an upscale suburb. Definitely not my house.
There was an early 60s car (by this time a few years old) with a small red and white “canned ham” style trailer attached. Seems Isa was there, maybe 3 or 4 years old at the time.
I think the people who owned the house were friends or family of Nancy’s. I didn’t like them.
“So Phil, you’re a writer? How’s that working out?” one guy in a thick sweater asked me.
“It’s going well,” I lied. My life was a mess and it was about to become a complete disaster. Also, I was jonesing and starting to believe that they had brought me there just to humiliate me. I wanted to leave so bad but I held my composure together just long enough.
I’m not sure how or if I could confirm this one. I did briefly attempt to contact Isa Dick-Hackett about some other memories from 1964-72 via a listed address, but I was unsuccessful, and didn’t want to become a nuisance by digging up unlisted contact info.