I hardly remembered those miserable summer days anymore when the industrial dust gathered thickly on the porches. Living in Pittsburgh in those days had been no holiday. The air had been a dull choking haze that one didn't dare breathe.
Only on rare occasions now, usually only during the hot summer days when the air is still and the smog from the city makes the sky dull at noon, do those horrible days come back to mind. The day when I called Tony up was one of those days.
I needed to discuss something with Tony. He lived at the opposite side of the city, too far to just run over and speak with him in person. The telephone had to suffice. I wondered how people managed to get by in the age before the telephone.
Naturally, we talked about the weather and how lovely it had been at the coast and how rotten the atmosphere can get in Pittsburgh.
"But it's a rotten day only by what we can see," I said to him. "In reality this is the brightest of all days!"
"Now what is that supposed to mean?" his voice came back over the telephone.
"It means that there are papers to be signed. My Realtor called today. And I mean, these are special papers indeed!"
"Oh, and I am supposed to know what you are talking about? You've lost me, my friend."
"It means that our California beach house has been sold."
"You never told me you had a beach house. Congratulations! Did you get a good price?"
"You still don't know what I'm getting at, do you Tony?"
There was silence for a moment.
"No!" his voice came back. Then, there was silence again. "My God, no, you haven't! You couldn't! You didn't sell your beach house for that crazy project we talked about?" He laughed moments later.
"Exactly so, Tony. The project is on!"
"You're nuts, man! What about all the memories you've got invested in your California place? You can't just throw all this out of the window for something that may never work."
"Our place has already been sold, Tony."
"Sold! That sounds so final, Pete."
"It is that, Tony."
"But why?"
"Tell me, what good are pleasant memories, Tony, compared to staying alive?"
There was silence for a while.
"Pete, the salvation of the world doesn't depend on you."
"Oh, doesn't it? Doesn't it depend on everyone?"
There was silence again.
"So the project is really on?"
"Of course! Are you still with me, Tony?"
"Good Lord, Pete, you can count on me. I had no idea you were really serious. Of course I'm with you. My ass is on fire too, you know."
"What?"
"Never mind that. But what about your wife? How did you manage to get her interested in our crazy scheme?"
"Later Tony. First let me tell you that Craig, that's my Realtor, has located a 126-acre parcel of beachfront for us. And you won't believe this. It's in the exact area where we had figured it should be, about 20 miles north from the SandCastle. I have already secured an option on it. All I have to do is sign the papers."
