Onion Soup With A Bun

                                  ONION SOUP WITH A BUN

It’s always a ’good’ day when I can spend time with my daughter, Debbie. Between

her home, husband, kids, job and any socializing she can squeeze into that

schedule, it didn‘t happen often enough.

But today was a day off for her so she had planned to shop for shoes to wear

with a dress she’d bought for a friend’s special occasion, and lunch with

me was on her calendar too. Nothing fancy, we’d meet at our local

diner for one of their Greek salads. I picked a table near a sunny window,

with a view of the entrance and waited for her.

As soon as I saw her I sensed that something was wrong. She seemed

distracted, upset. I waved to her and gave her a big smile, it got no response.

She sat down but barely looked at me.

The waitress came over, “Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, decaf for me, Debbie?"

“No”

“Would you like to order?”

 “Yes, I think we’ll both have the Greek salad, right?” I asked Debbie.

No answer, she was looking down, “onion…bun…onion.” she mumbled.

“I can’t hear you,” I said, too loudly, “what did you want…onion soup…

with a bun…?”

“Did you go for your hearing test! ?” she said sharply. “You said you

were going to!”

It‘s true, I did plan to make an appointment, “Not yet… I will,” and I

thought, this is going to be one of those days.

“I’ll come back later,” said the waitress.

“So, let me see your shoes!” I said., faking enthusiasm. I looked for her

shopping bag, there wasn’t one.

“You left them in the car?” Could she tell that I couldn’t care less about her

new shoes… I just wanted to know what was wrong.

No answer.

It was deja vu, Debbie as a teenager giving me ‘The Silent Treatment’,

one of the best in her repertoire of ‘Treatments’. I used to tell her that she

ought to write a book;" How to’ books are always popular. Call it ‘How a

Teenage Girl Can Torture Her Mother’ and in smaller print, ‘while living at

home in her own sunny room, wonderful meals, nice clothes from The Gap."

It would have been a Best Seller. Her peers would buy it to get suggestions,

ie: when to ‘ roll your eyes’ and when not to and mine would buy it to learn

what our daughters were plotting. But happily, those years passed, we both

survived, she became a wonderful adult, wife and mother and my good

friend.

“ So tell me, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“I didn’t buy anything”.

“Why not?”

She looked me straight in the eye. “Nothing fit right!” she hissed.

 I was being accused of something…but what? My mind raced through all

my past ‘crimes'.

“Why not?” I asked again.

“Because I have what you have!”

“What?” I tossed my grey haired head, “My ravishing good looks? My

brilliant mind? What?!”

“Your bunion ” she whispered.

I cupped my ear, “ You’re mumbling again.” I said.

“ Bunion. B- U- N- I- O- N,” she spelled.

“Oh.” I sent a silent ‘thank you’ to the heavens. Then that was her crisis,

we could deal with it!

I motioned for the waitress, “ Never mind the onion soup with a bun. We’ll

both have the Greek Salad”.

It was all so familiar, her face, her words, I just couldn’t place it. If I had a

computer in my brain instead of a file of index cards I would know in a

second.

“The shoe salesman told me that it was genetic, that I inherited it from

you” she said.

And then I remembered. She was a pre-teen when the dentist told she would

need braces for a ‘bad bite’. He informed her that it was genetic; (Thank

You Dr Kaplan!) that she ‘inherited’ the condition from a parent,” and

since I needed braces as a child, I was the guilty party.

And here I was, ‘guilty’ again. I did have a bunion, that I inherited from

my mother. And that would my defense I thought (as I prepared my case)

because Debbie adored her Nana… as all her grandchildren did.

Whenever I was even slightly upset with my mother, they were angry and

took her side. In a funny way that pleased me, it meant that my

grandchildren would always take my side.

Didn’t it?!

"So," I said, hiding my …well, glee” But you know, don’t you, that Nana has

one too? “ I leaned forward for effect, “I got mine from her!!”

Oh, how I regretted not learning how to use my cell phone camera; to

capture the expression on her face; was it dismay?

“She does? Who did she get it from?”

I shrugged, “From her mother? Your Great-Grandma Sophie ? Let’s finish

our lunch and then we’ll call Nana from the car. And Honey, don’t worry,

we’ll go to an specialist and find out what can be done. There are many

options” I reassured her.

So we changed the subject, I wanted to hear about the children and she

liked to tell me about them, so between her sending and receiving texts

she reminded me that Emily’s dance recital was coming up, and that Matt

was going to pitch at this Sunday’s game. She was proud of them and I

was too.

When we got into my car I called my mother who at 97 is the ‘matriarch’

of the family. She still lived at home and was doing great. I had spoken to

her earlier in the day,“ Mom, it’s me again. Debbie and I just had lunch at

the Diner, we have a question to ask you.”

“Wait, I can’t hear you, let me check the batteries on my hearing aid.”

“Again with the batteries?” I muttered to myself, “Every day with the

batteries…?”

Debbie glared at me, I pretended not to notice.

“ OK, it’s better now.”

“ It‘s about your bunion, Mom. did Grandma have one too?”

No hesitation, “ Yes, remember, how she always wore those terry cloth

slippers in the house? She didn’t put her shoes on unless she was going

somewhere.”

I did remember.

“Ok” now, Mom what about her mother, your Grandmother Hannah” Do

you know if she had bunions…Debbie has one now. And” I added, dental

problems”

“My Grandmother Hannah? I never knew her, she stayed in the ‘old

country’ while her grownup children came to America. So sad, …she never

saw her children again… or met her grand-children…so sad….”

Sad, yes I thought, stay on subject. Meanwhile Debbie was receiving a text

 that clearly excited her, “Ma, my friend Joanie has a brilliant idea! We’ll ask

Great -Grandma Hannah!”

“Your Great Great” I corrected her. “But honey, she’s no longer with us,

in fact she was never with us. She lived and died in the 'old country'."

“Well, I know that!” She was insulted “But Joanie says we can contact her

through John Edwards, y’know from TV.? He’ll ask her if she had a bunio

“Hold on. Joanie thinks we can talk to Great Great Grandma on the other

side and ask her if she had a bunion…” ? I liked Joanie, her mother and I

went to school together. “And while we’re there why don’t we ask her

about her teeth …and her recipe for stuffed grape leaves…but in

what language? They spoke French, not English. Hmmm, do they have

interpreters on the Other Side??”

“You‘re making fun.”she said and with a sour look got out of my car and into hers.

As I drove home I mentally constructed our family tree as I knew it, not a

good idea if you’re the one at the wheel (as the driver in the car behind me

let me know loudly and graphically).

There were two calls waiting for me at home. One was from my mother;

“I just spoke to your Aunt Pauline” she said “ about bunions and bad bites.

She has both and so does your cousin Eddie.”

The other call was from Debbie; she was breathless, “ Ma, I just got three

e mails, from Cousin Mabel, Cousin Ruth and Uncle Joe, and more coming

in now. They’re all reporting in on Nana’s question.”

“And…?” I asked

“Some had bunions, but no bad bites, some needed braces but didn’t have

bunions and cousin Jake bunions and braces…I’ll get back to you!”

She was getting the e mails and I was getting the phone calls. My mother

started a family survey to match American Idol.

The messages were coming in from family here in New York and all

around the country; from New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts,

Maryland, Georgia, Florida and as far as Texas and California.

Debbie was excited “We’re starting a Club, called ‘THE B and B’s,

Bunions and Braces’ from age 9 to 99. We’ll e mail each other, text,

‘friend’ each other on Face Book, Skype, send pictures…all about feet and

teeth and everything!”

So Debbie’s day that began unhappily ended with an exciting discovery of

new cousins, new friends and stories to share.

                                                  THE END    

A Difference of Opinion

                                  A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

I was arriving a little late for my grandson's graduation party, so I had to park

 around the corner and as I walked towards the house I became aware of  noise,

an amorphous sound something like thunder although the sky was a clear blue

and I hadn’t heard of any storm forecast in our area.  As I got closer it seemed to

get louder... sounding less like thunder and more like a roar. The roar became

voices, many, shouting over other. They were coming from Debbie's house.

Oh no! I felt the anger rise in me. Were they at it again?! They knew that

the subject of politics was not to be brought up when we were all together.

That rule goes so far back that some of the family were not even born when

it started, but we reminded them often enough. During the Vietnam War in

the 70’s, the arguments back and forth between the anti-war and pro-war

beliefs of myself and my siblings were so intense that our mother became

…well, if not hysterical, almost.

“Stop it !Stop it!,” she would yell, looking up at the at the ceiling, (The

Heavens). Her 4 children were going to kill each other!

“We’re a family,” she’d remind us; or “It’s a holiday,” ( if it was one).

“We love each other,” was her favorite. And we did most of the time, if

not right at that very moment. But Mom’s final plea was tinged with

panic, “The neighbors are going to call the police!!” All the poor woman

wanted was for us to just be nice to each other and talk about nice things.

That war ended but other controversies brought out the opposing passions

in the family. Even the baseball seasons of spring and summer were ripe for

our highly emotional clashes; we long suffering Brooklyn Dodger fans,

versus the “arrogant” Yankee fans. Did they have to win all the time! But

when the Dodgers, in that most traitorous act, abandoned us for California,

we were too dispirited to care anymore.

 The years passed, the family grew. We had babies, sweet little things until

they grew up and became just as strong-headed and opinionated as we were.

And then their children followed in their footsteps…no tiptoeing in our

family!
Of course, election times were and are the most intense and God  Bless

America they come along very often. But we explained to my mother, now

‘Nana’ to our children, “we’re not fighting with each other, we just have a

‘difference of opinion’ as all concerned, involved citizens have," we were

proud to point out.

“Never mind,” was her answer, “You don‘t have to say everything that’s on

your mind and if you feel that you’re just going to explode just leave the

room…go out to the porch, get a cold drink…get a hot drink…”

This happened last year at Thanksgiving dinner, the evening so far had

been wonderful, small ‘catching up’ talk between the cousins. But when my

grandsons left the room together with red faces and gritted teeth, I

followed them. They were arguing about the past baseball season as avid

sports fans do, with emotions that ran the gamut from anger and hostility at

those ‘arrogant Yankees’ from the long suffering Mets fans. It was all too

familiar to me… some things never change. Wasn’t sports supposed to fun?

Not for these fans!

“Please,” I said, “don’t you two start, we want to have a pleasant afternoon.

But I knew, even before the words were out of my mouth that I went too far.

“Why not?!” said my grandson Neil, “this is a free country…I have a

Right to speak. No one can stop me…”

I nodded my head, “Free country, yes, of course you have the right…”

I read once that to defuse a very angry person you should agree with them

so I nodded. “ Yes, free speech.” Shake…“No one can stop you…” Nod...Shake
.
It seemed to calm them both.

“Come on boys, we’re ready for dessert, we have pumpkin pie with

whipped cream,” I purred, “apple crumb cake, chocolate chip cookies…

the real kind…” That did it!

But today was a special occasion,we were celebrationg my grandson's graduation.

I got to her house and rang the bell. My daughter answered, “What’s going on ?!”

I asked. She could tell that I was angry.

“Mom! Hi…nothing’s going on. Why?”

“I can hear you all the way up the block, and so can your neighbors!”

Debbie laughed, “They’re away this weekend. And we just have a

difference of opinion, that’s all.” She led me into the living room.

“Hey, everyone, Grandma’s here.” They called a temporary truce to greet

me; hugs and kisses all around.

“These hugs’ I said, “are from me and also from Nana. I’ll call her on the

speaker phone after dinner.”

Yes‘Nana,’ is the same mother who throughout the years has pleaded with

us to ‘be nice’ when we were together. At 97 years old, she couldn’t easily

take the car ride to us from the Jersey Shore.

The ‘difference of opinion” at our dinner table was not as bad as it could

have been because the thing about eating is that when your mouth is happily

busy with food, it inhibits the talking, and the shouting. But with the last

bite it started again.

Until I announced, “I’m calling Nana on the speaker phone, so let’s keep it

down.”

“Mom, We’re all here for Lenny’s graduation party, everybody says Hello”.

“Hi Nana, we miss you “ called out all the voices.

“Hello, my dears, and are you all behaving yourselves?” We knew what

she meant.

I didn’t want to outright lie to her. “Well, Mom, there is a little

disagreement, not too bad…( not bad enough for the cops to show up, I

almost joked, then decided against it). But I wasn’t fooling her.

“What is it about today, not still about the elections?” she asked.

“No, no that’s over. This time they were arguing about Buble.”

A pause, “What’s a Buble?”

Everyone laughed. “Mom. It’s a he. Michael Buble is a singer.“

“Never heard of him. Is he any good?”

Ha! good question. It was in fact the question, the one that caused today’s

uproar.

“He’s okay,” answered Neil. “Some people think he’s great and some of us

think he’s just an imitator…”

At his words angry sounds of protest came from around the room.

“Oh, never mind about him” said my mother. The best one ever… was Bing

Crosby!”

“Bing?” asked 11 year old, Emily“ you mean like the search engine Bing?”

“What’s a search engine” asked my mother.

“Emily, Bing Crosby was a singer, a long time ago. Mom, I’ll explain

about a search engine later. But now Haley wants to talk to you.”

“Nana, do you know any of the new singers?" she asked.
“I do,” she said, with a chuckle. “I know that Gaga Lady…”

  I saw her on television.” my mother continued. She was wearing…” with

that she burst out laughing and we couldn’t make out her words. “She was

wearing a meat dress…meat!” she repeated over her gales of laughter.

Imagine if your Cooper was there!”

When he heard his name Cooper, the Beagle came running into the room,

tail wagging.

“Or our dog Brandy” said Natalie.

Then they all started calling out the names of dogs they know, or ever knew,

dogs on the block, dogs they had seen on television and in the movies.

“Or Benji” called out Charles.

“Lassie!” cried Emily.

"Snoopy" offered Bonnie.

"Rin Tin Tin" shouted Haley.

“Toto” said Larry.

 

“And flies” screamed out Eric. “Flies like meat too!”
 

By now the room was rocking with their laughter, each had their own

image of barking dogs and buzzing flies making their way to the meat

dress on the stage.

So the evening ended in fun and harmony, which made Nana and myself

very happy, even though we knew that it was just until the next time we got

together when they would bring up any and every controversial topic big or

small that they could think of.

　

                                                      THE END