When my sister went to college in California, she promptly became a vegetarian and wrote me long letters expounding the evils of meat. Everybody assumed she’d grow out of this phase much the way she grew out of Rick Springfield and 90210. Instead she progressed from no red meat to no meat of any kind to no seafood and, finally, to no dairy products. To top it off, during her senior year Kiki fell in love with a butcher at the local grocery store. Within weeks they’d shacked up.
“Oh, come on, we have a lot in common.”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Mike the butcher brought home a tremendous turkey. My mom prepared all sorts of scrumptious appetizers, but for some reason they all contained meat so my sister couldn’t eat them. My grandmother (who insists we call her “Nona,” which means godmother in Greek) sat on the couch going on about various terminal illnesses.
Mark’s wife Alice, who’s two months pregnant, seems very uncomfortable. I can’t tell if it’s because of my grandmother, or because of the Jewish tradition that says she has to name her baby after a dead relative. Both the baby’s grandmas–Fanny and Zelda–are dead.
The butcher’s brother Curtis, who lives just down the street, also shows up. A college graduate who finds office jobs demeaning, he works in a Super-Spud fast-food potato restaurant.
“The Masons–as in Jackie Mason?”
