750: The Ferryman
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When Amy and her dad were loading her mom into the car, Amy didn't think this would be the very last time her mom would go to the hospital. But her dad did. In fact, he called a priest. A priest who Amy's mom Janet was friends with to hear her mom's confession in a minister of last rites, just in case. Her mom had been diagnosed with cancer two years before. Amy says it was quick she didn't have much time left. So we got in the car, and I set the GPS for a while, Cornell. And we got on to the Long Island Expressway. And Amy had driven this trip dozens and dozens of times over two years of treatment to Wild Cornell Hospital in New York City from out in Long Island. There's a straight shot of the Expressway. Amy knows the way by heart, but she always uses the ways app because it reroutes when the traffic's bad. And I've become like such a slave to the GPS. I just like follow it like I'm like I'm a robot. And I'm following it. And at one point, my dad's in the backseat. My mom's sitting next to me in the front seat. And at one point, my dad said, like, where are you going? Like, why are you going this way? And I don't even know exactly where I was. I think it had taken me to the cross island and then I exit in Queens. And he was like, why are you going this way? And I was like, the GPS is I'm just following the GPS like I was doing. And then it told me to make a left on Broadway in Queens made the left. And I was like, oh my God, Janet, we're going to go right by. Janet, do you know where we are? They're taking them right to the neighborhood where parents were first a couple. Working together in his family's business. The GPS told them to make a turn on that corner is a bakery that it's an old Italian bakery. It's been there and I think I have the name of it somewhere. Yeah, it's called Parisis Bakery. And it's right on the corner there. It's been there forever and my parents used to always pick up their bread for their big Italian meals with my grandmother's shoe. Be like, get the bread, Parisis, go to Parisis, get the bread. Wait, when they were how old? When they were, you know, like teenagers, like when they were like 19 and 20 and like, you know, they were working in Queens and my dad was freaking out about the bakery. And so I pulled over and I said, Dad, why don't you get a loaf of bread? And he jumped out of the car and he went and got a loaf of bread and some cookies for my mother. Aiming drives on. And the GPS next were out some right past this diner, the Bellaire diner. That they had breakfast at every morning when they were in their 20s. Before they would go to the factory, they would go with my grandfathers,
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