Tuesday May 10, 2004
	A Mother's Day celebration.
	"Hi grandma," I say.  My grandmother lives in Miami Beach Florida and on important holidays family members gather at her house. "Did you bring it?" she says.  My grandmother rolls her own cigarettes and when I visit I'm expected to bring a tin of tobacco and rolling papers. "Black Death, grandma," I say then handing her the papers.  Black Death is her favorite brand of rolling paper.  "And the tobacco?" she says.  "Where's the tobacco?"     "One 13 ounce (364 grams) can of McClintock full flavor tobacco," I say then handing her the can. "Good boy," she says then moving away from the door opening. "Happy Mother's Day," I say. "Happy Mother's Day," says my date.  When she moves past my grandmother her big American designer purse knocks the can of tobacco from my grandmothers' hands. "Careful," says my grandmother. Sitting inside the house a handful of elderly people discuss television tubes and the testers once used to test them. "In the old days we pulled all the tubes out from the TV and tested them at the drugstore," says my grandmothers' friend who lives in the house next door.  "Have you ever tested a TV tube?" she says in my direction. "Nope," I say, smiling then dipping a celery stick into a bowl of something. "I've had my tubes tied," says my sister from behind the closed bathroom door.  My sister Sandy attends all the family gatherings and can almost always be found locked in the bathroom with her latest friend.     "Was that Sandy's voice?" I say.  I know it was her voice. "Who's Sandy?" says my date. "Is she in there alone?" I say.  She's never been in the bathroom alone.       "She's washing up with her special friend," says my mother. "Special friend?" I say. "Don't start, boy," says my grandmother.  She is using her fat tongue to seal her cigarette then pushing it between her cracked, wrinkled lips.     "What's wrong honey?" says my date.  She is moving hair away from my eyes and I am enjoying her perfumed wrists when I say: "They're doing it.  It's Mother's Day and people are doing it just a few feet from us." "Norman," says my mother then standing. "I can smell the burning flesh," I say then putting a slice of Swiss cheese over my nose holes. "You can?" says one of the elderly women. "This is my day," says my grandmother while at the same time walking toward me.  "This is the day friends visit, the day I get gifts.  Don't f-ck it up boy," says my grandmother then throwing her hand rolled, still lit cigarette at me. "Mother please," says my mother to my grandmother.    A few still glowing red embers of cigarette ash land on the big American designer purse owned by my date. "Oh damn," she says then beating off any potential flames using a World War One souvenir throw pillow gotten from the couch. My grandmother eventually opened her gifts and at around six o'clock we ate finger sandwiches and the popular cold summer soup, gazpacho.  For desert we ate homemade chocolate pudding with whipped cream and canned peaches.  At some point Sandy asked for a glass of ice water. PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT