story # 5

spaghetti dinner

by bob gottlieb

copyright © 1992-2012 Bob Gottlieb, all rights reserved.

It is dark and the clock is indicating that there is going to be a long stretch of rolling around attempting to get back to the land of Morpheus, or before it would be sunrise, and a legitimate time to start the day in Tucson, AZ.  It was an unseasonably (What do they mean by 'unseasonably' anyway?  It's December in the Northern hemisphere and it is a given that it is going to be colder than July, no matter what portion of the Northern Hemisphere you are occupying!) cold December morning in 1992.  I was woken up by a vivid memory/dream, that had the effect of the rolling sound of a bowling bowl that has started slowly making its way down a slightly slanted, slightly rotten wooden floor in a deserted empty warehouse, and is incrementally picking up speed.  This memory of an incident that took place in 1960 was also gathering a momentum of its own. It kept slowly and torturously, rolling and echoing around in my head, becoming more insistent with its gathering of kinetic energy.  First while I was asleep it just kept going and going until it would knock into walls and ricochet off on a tangent direction.  The uneven rolling and tumbling sound building upon itself, until my mind wouldn't let me rest in dreamland any longer.  Then once I had opened my eyes to the dark surroundings it still kept gathering momentum and echoing until I finally decided that the whole purpose of this very early morning call was so I'd relate this incident. I found it amusing enough, that not only did it waken me, but it also was annoying enough to make me get out of a warm bed.  It was, no, is a funny/sad human story, and it is a true story.  However, like they say on the television the names are changed to protect the innocent.  This is a lie, the names are changed so I won't get sued.  Though that makes no sense to me cause the story is known by a few and can't be denied.  Then again it is my slant on the story and who knows how it varies with their versions, if they even remembered the incident at all.  Also this way I don't have to hunt them down to get their permission for the use of their names.

My name is Bob and I was about 16 years old at the time that this experience transpired.  I was born to Jewish parents in a small semi-rural section of a large city.  We weren't a religious family, we only went to temple on the major holy days, and I was raised to value all people without exception.  However a lot of my parents’ friends were Jewish.  We lived in a middle class basically Irish neighborhood that used to have lots of woods and fields teeming with the small wildlife that habituated the rural portion of a large city.  Much of it was now being chewed up and built up with those tract houses.  Down the street in one of those new houses that replaced an open field and a huge old elm tree that had a large tree-house/fort in it, some old maple trees, and displaced many families of rabbits and birds, lived a family by the name of the Silvers.  They had a boy, Eddy, about 3 years older than I was, and a girl that was my age.  Eddy had a reputation for racing cars and running around drinking.  I can't remember whether he was in college or working at this time (in fact I am guessing that he was 3 years older than I was because I never knew him too well, as we ran with different crowds).  Delores was my age and we had gone through eighth grade together. Then we went to the same high school, and it was large enough that we didn't see each other, but on the odd occasion.  We didn't hang out together or ever do anything together, however we lived in the same neighborhood, which meant we saw each other on our way to and from school and we did have some mutual hangouts and friends that occasionally overlapped.  She had a slight reputation for being sexual aware.  Easy, was the term used at that time, but boys then, as now, talked a lot more than they acted.  Our parents were not real friendly as I remember things, but for appearances sake or some other reason did some things together every now and again.

On this particular Sunday night we were going to dinner together, all eight of us.  Change that to seven because Delores wasn't going.  She said she had lots of homework, and as was usual with many of us left it to the last minute.  She was going to finish this one big report that she said was due the next day.  She wasn't stupid, but didn't care for the working portion school.  I don't remember her as being a conscientious student, but...  My brother was the 7th person in the party and he is 3 years younger than I am.

The place picked for dinner was this bustling, jovial and loud Italian bar and restaurant on the other side of the island we lived on.  It was excellent food in a very casual atmosphere, no separation of bar and restaurant.  It was a bar that served as a place for many of the local sports celebrities to congregate, and drink and swap windies with others. There was always a local man who was an umpire in the major leagues, and a couple of guys on their way up as baseball players who constantly, when in town, patronized the establishment, and a few others who had had careers of one sort or another in sports and were on their way to just telling stories.  It served huge portions of food that left you stuffed. It was loud with the camaraderie of the local sports people, and the feel of a neighborhood bar.  No one ever finished a portion, not even my 5'8", 325-lb. (when he was on a diet) uncle who loved to eat.  The two families made plans to meet out there.  Our 53 Packard was big enough to accommodate all in comfort, but there was no need to force too much togetherness upon anyone, and gas was just plain cheap, about $.21/gal. at the time.

We were all gathered and seated around the table and discussing the various choices on the menu just like two big happy families.  Eddy, as I remember him, always seem to have a pretty big chip on his shoulder, which many times caused him a considerable amount of trouble with various friends and strangers.  Many times you’d see him and he was wearing these badges, the bloody scrapes and bruises his attitude provoked, but his fists weren't able to back up.  These battles that cost him so much pride and skin he didn't keep to himself, but always managed to transfer his loses into an argument, or blame them on his parents. He took his lack of physical prowess and mental lapses out on them too, costing him any of the sympathy that might have been available to the wounded warrior in his home castle.  There is always someone around with an attitude towards chips that are perched precariously, that enjoyed flicking at them and eventually thumping them off.  Eddy's attitude seemed to be pretty big, and his muscle and fighting skill in no way matched up to the oversized rancor he attempted to carry with him.  He pointed it out if anyone missed it, though it as if he had neon florescence waving from it. He evidently didn't learn from his from the number of bruises and black eyes he seemed to wear so as if they were badges of honor.

However now back to the dinner table.  There was the usual chitchat between adults that don't really have a lot in common, yet are doing their obligatory get together, coerced into being there by some social pressure.  Don't get it wrong, they didn't dislike each other, but there was no strong tie or bond for this dual family outing.  As I remember things I was not there by choice, but by decree.  I think my parents felt having the kids would be some kind of buffer, or maybe excuse to leave early in the evening.  Besides I am generally pretty quiet when there is no one I really want to talk with.  I think I probably had an attitude also, but unlike Eddy my attitude was generally one of quiet withdrawal or tending toward a quiet sullenness, not an angry aggressive snorting.  At any rate it was not uncomfortable at the table, but there was the unease of having two attitude prone teenage boys in attendance. I remember at that age I was very embarrassed by my parents and never wanted to be seen with them.  To this day I have bad posture, because I used to slouch down so much in the car seat so no friends would see my parents drive me anywhere.  I think this is a normal growing up pain. (I wonder what the kids in the days before cars did?  It's pretty hard to slouch or hide on a buckboard seat or in a buggy!)

The waitress had taken our order and was bringing our salads and drinks, when she asked if we had all we needed.  Eddy strongly requested she bring lots of Parmesan cheese.  We all set to eating our salads and garlic bread, which thankfully ended the slightly forced conversation and quieted the table.  The rest of the place maintained its busy, it was always packed solid, noisy, smoky, low light state as our table started on the beginnings of our meal in relative peace that occurs when food is occupying the mind and mouth.   For the record Eddy and Delores’ parents, as I remember them, were your usual normal parents, nothing at all unusual.  Maybe Mrs. Silver was a little bit more of a worrywart Jewish mother than some others I have met, but I have certainly met many far worse than she was.

I'm sure you can remember the ministrations of your mother or mother figure, whoever she or he might have been.  If you aren't Jewish or didn't have a "Jewish Mother" (Not all Jewish Mothers are Jewish, some of the best/worst that I knew where Italian!), they are a person who does not believe you can do whatever it is you are doing without their help and/or guiding hand.  You know the constant reminders of a Jewish mother and it is probably universal to all mothers, its just that Jewish mothers have perfected the whining voice;  "Put your napkin on your lap!  Don't talk with food in your mouth!  Don't eat so much bread!  Save room for your dinner!  Don't forget...” and so on.  These women always seem to talk in exclamation points!!!  Never normal declarative sentences that end in periods.  They never let silence settle on an area in peace.  It seems they believe unhappiness has dominion when there is silence.  They will do anything to obliterate this hated foe.  What they have been trained to do since childhood is remind, or taken to the extreme which they have, it’s called nagging, in that most obnoxious whining voice, that every comic, or would be comic can imitate so well.

We were coming to an end of the salad on our plates when the waitress started bringing out our entrees.  As she brought Eddy's pasta he reiterated his mandate for lots of Parmesan.  When she returned with the remaining entrees her hands were full, but Eddy cut her no slack and demanded the Parmesan immediately.  She politely asked if anyone else wanted anything, I think more to delay giving in to Eddy than out of professionalism.  He was being quite obnoxious.  She returned with 4 bowls that are used to hold fresh grated condiments such as Parmesan and crushed red peppers, each with a soupspoon in it.  She placed a bowl of each on our section of the table and then placed the Silver's in front of them.  Whether by design or accident we will never know, but the crushed red peppers were placed in front of Eddy.  He immediately grabbed it and started sprinkling it very liberally on his food.

His mother started to interject a warning, "Eddy do you know what..."

"Just leave me alone.  I ain't no little kid.  I know what I'm doin."  He shot back at her in a much too loud voice.

He continued his sprinkling using almost the entire bowl in his show of teenage bravado.  He then wound up a huge forkful of his spaghetti, more than could fit comfortably into his big mouth, as only a defiant teenager would do.  This he forced into this wide-open orifice. Leaving some of the loose ends hanging from his mouth.  Slurping the loose ends into this already overflowing cavity, with attendant noises that sounded like slop being poured into a pig pen.   His efforts to annoy, disgust, and mortify his mother were having the desired effect on her and evoking a sort of sympathy from most of the rest of the diners within earshot.   The rest of us just continued quietly with our meal in that pregnant embarrassed silence that no one relishes.  Eddy wasn't finished with his efforts to get center stage.  Before he had finished chewing and swallowing the first forkful he was reading a second mammoth mouthful to join with the first in the slowly emptying, but still overstuffed mouth.  As his mouth opened wide to receive this 2nd massive bundle it revealed the partially masticated remains of the first batch of spaghetti and sauce, the fork hesitated for a second so we all could get a good view of the ravages of the first mouthful.  Then as if by radar it found a slight opening and plunged into the wreckage. Then he chewed, and chewed with those exaggerated chewing sounds we have all made in efforts to disrupt someone's peaceful meal.

The next anyone knew his silverware crashed to the plate and he was gasping and spitting the partially chewed contents out of his mouth in the general vicinity of his plate and trying to get his beer into his mouth at the same time.  When the beer can was empty he grabbed the water and continued trying to put out the fire within.  By the time he picked up his father's milk (his father had an ulcer and drank lots of milk) he was on his feet doing some kind of a special dance to invoke who knew what, and most of the restaurant was looking at this panting, spitting, choking, and gulping kid, who seemed to be stricken with either St. Vitas' dance or an epileptic fit.  He never stopped but looked at the table and shouted something that sounded like it might have been, "You son of a bitch!"  It was hard to decipher these words shouted as they were through a mouth that was full of partially chewed spaghetti blended with the beer, milk and water, until it formed a sort of paste with long lumps.  Then he bolted through the crowded restaurant and out the door.

My mother turned to Mrs. Silver and said, "You tried to warn him."

Mrs. Silver could only look at my mother in response and shrug her shoulders.  After a brief pause we all continued eating.  The Silvers did keep glancing in the direction of the door, whether in dread or anticipation of Eddy's return I can't say.  This is how the diner ended.  Or to paraphrase from T. S. Eliot's poem, The Hollow Man, This is the way the dinner ends, not with a bang but a whimper. A quiet note suspended in the air.  No one knowing quite what to say.  I think my father and Mr. Silver might have been secretly laughing at the incident, thinking it a well deserved bit of poetic justice.

The Silvers left rather shortly after the bill came saying they wanted to make sure Eddy got home all right.  Also to make sure he didn't need medical attention.  Thus making it a significantly shorter than anticipated evening.

My parents took us home by way of an ice cream stand.  Whether as a silent reward for our comparatively good behavior or just because it was a good way to end, who can say.

When we arrived back at the home place my mother announced her intention to call Mrs. Silver to check on Eddy.  You could see a change come over her face as she listened to the loud voice coming from receiver.  She didn't get a chance to speak much after the greeting.  You could hear Mrs. Silver raving on in a slightly hysterical voice, but we couldn't make out what was being said.  My mother looked very pale when she hung up.  We all assumed that Eddy was in bad shape.  She said something that let us assume this indeed was the case, and the book seemed closed on the evening.  I went to my room to read and that was it for me for the night.

Nothing was said at the breakfast table the next morning, except some off handed remark to my brother about a hot head and a hot mouth.  I walked down the hill to catch the bus to school, and was engrossed in the usual talk of upcoming tests, girls, or the latest in sports news, whatever the topic of the day happened to be.  At the transfer point for the school bus    (Its not really a school bus but it might as well be at that hour of the day.  A normal human being that was not of high school age with a modicum of sense would not want to ride on it, crushed in by a hundred or so teenagers in various stages of hormone eruptions.  Let alone endure all the crass and nasty pranks they pull on one another in their eternal striving for some kind of recognition or acceptance.) I ran into some friends that asked if I heard about poor Danny?  I replied I hadn't, so they related this hair raising story to me about how he'd severely sprained his leg and was lucky that was all that had happened to him.  It seemed he and his new girl friend, nobody knew who it was at this point, were taking advantage of a parentless house.  They had just about reached the point of no return and both were down to their underpants and these were about part way down to the ankles when the parents came home about an hour or so ahead of their expected time.  Danny and his girl were breathing so heavy they didn't hear the car pull in or the doors shut, nothing until the key was grating in the lock.  To make it worse because of construction the only door working was the front door!  The house was a split-level and they were about a story and a half above the ground with nowhere to hide and nothing else was available to him, as he was a forbidden entity at the house, there was only one avenue open to him. To go out through the window.  To make matters worse their progress through the house didn't allow time for him to get dressed, so he went through the screen carrying his shoes, socks, and shirt in one hand and his pants in the other.  His underpants he had at least pulled up.

His pants leg caught on the sill and made his leap out of the window unbalanced to say the least.  He still might have made it undetected if he hadn't screamed so loudly when he landed on a big rock in the litter strewn, and still unlandscaped yard, severely twisting his leg.  He had several blocks to navigate and he was still in his underwear in order to reach the safety of his home, and now he was going to be hobbled by his throbbing leg as well.  He was very fortunate that Mr. Silver heard his cry and rushed to the window and spent a great deal of time leaning out of it screaming at the now hobbling figure to stop to get back here. By the time he finally decided this outlaw was not going to return and to give chase, Danny crippled as he was, but full of adrenaline had too much of a head start for him to overcome.  Still with his injured leg Danny was so slow he had to hole up in a neighbors rose bushes to escape detection until Mr. Silver gave up his ranting and went back in the house.  Danny's scratched up body hurt this morning only slightly less than the twisted up leg, which when you considered all things....  He could say he was lucky it wasn't broken.  He was lucky Mr. Silver did not catch him.  He also had made it into his parent's house with no trouble as he lived on the first floor and had a handy window for these emergencies.  His parents also bought his story about slipping on an unseen roller skate.  They never saw his ripped pants.

Mr. Silver was out of luck with getting the identity of the intruder, because whatever else anyone said of Delores, she never did tell them what happened, no matter how dire the consequences with which they threatened her.  To this day I don't know that anyone else ever put the whole of the story together or that Danny and/or Delores ever talked to anyone.  Though I'm sure the two of them cursed Eddy up one side and down the other.  I only put it together because I had happened to see Delores and Danny making out behind some store about a week later.

Eddy merely had an inflamed mouth and a damaged ego, the former required no treatment, and there is no salve for the latter.  The latter was an experience he was way too familiar with, and he was, at this point, not going to remedy.  Thus he was helpless to do anything about it except glare.  So it was relatively silent around the Silver's house, at least as far as he was concerned for a week or so. Delores was supposedly restricted for 2 months, but we all know how effective that sort of punishment was with a manipulative teenage girl.

 

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