this woman’s work

Could you please send prayers to my dad?

Nov 18, 2007 Family

His baby brother died last night and he’s there with his brother’s family now. They lost their parents some years back and I remember when my mother-in-law’s little sister died and she felt so alone. I can’t do anything — he’s on the West Coast, I’m here in Ohio — but send prayers and I’d appreciate it if you sent some prayers, too. Because he sure could use some love surrounding him right now.

He used to tell us stories about Uncle Eddie and how he (my dad) would “bounce” him (Uncle Eddie), which always created a pretty funny picture in my mind because my dad and Uncle Eddie (and I) are a fairly round little people. I could imagine my dad rolling up his little brother and bouncing him off the walls.

What I remember about Uncle Eddie is that he was very nice. That’s it. No specifics just a general cheerful niceness. We lived across the street from him when we lived in California and I remember cigars and niceness.

His family gave us kids our first ever (and until I was an adult, only) Passover there in Roseville (1113 Parkview Drive) and my little brother, who was about four, got drunk on the Manischewitz. Every time we’d get to a part in the seder where we were supposed to sip the wine Justin would throw his glass back and take an enormous gulp. I remember him leaning on my mom slurring, “I love you, Mommy!”

This is kind of the relationship my dad and his brother had. Their father, my Grandpa Art, had to drive a lot for his job. He’d take the boys driving through the eastern California desert and every time they’d see these signs: “Come see THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERT!” The boys would beg and beg their dad to stop but of course he said no because he had appointments to make. They’d get a little further and see another sign, “THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERT lies here!” And it just drove them crazy but no matter how much nagging they’d do, Grandpa would never stop.

When my dad grew up and became a salesman himself, his own route took him through that self-same part of the desert. One day on his way back to us he saw the sign, “Uncover THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERT!” and he said to himself, “Well, hell, I’m gonna stop.”  So he did and he finally uncovered that mystery that’d been gnawing at him for years.

Then he called up Uncle Eddie.

“Eddie!” he said. “I saw it! I saw the mystery of the desert!”

“Really?! What is it???”

“I’m not telling!” and my dad hung up the phone.

He teased him about it for years. You know, I don’t think he ever did tell Uncle Eddie.

Anyway. I’m thinking of my dad right now and wishing there was something I could do.

(As for the mystery of the desert, you’ll have to drive through California yourself to see what it is because yes, those signs — and the mystery itself — are still there.)

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