She was a force of nature, a short, dynamic, attention-seeking woman who charmed all who knew her. She would dance the tarantella in between serving courses at our family dinners, and sing off-key oblivious to criticism to Al Martino albums. She was a foot shorter than me but my long legs had to do double time to keep up with her when walking. And even though the weekly poker games at the dining room table were only for pennies, she took it so seriously that you would think they were playing for souls.
She actually played cards twice in my memory: Saturday nights with Uncle Joe (a cigar in his mouth, his green visor pulled down low on his forehead), Aunt Bernie (placid, accepting defeat before she even looks at her hand), her sister Mary (who fretted over each hand as if the mortgage depended on winning), Charlie (who was a reluctant card player), and then later, after death came round to our house again, during the week with “the girls”: Cousin Rose, Aunt Katie (my father’s youngest sister), Rose Interligi (my mother’s best friend), and Ann Montaleri. It’s only for pennies, but this is serious stuff, that is until break time when they have their coffee and cake, gossip about the TV shows, that rascal J.R. Ewing, some mini-series starring Richard Chamberlain, their children, grandchildren, those damned Republicans.
I stop in on my way home from teaching, make myself a sandwich, ask about Rose’s son Bobby, my old classmate, my cousin JoJo in California, my cousin Nicky in Queens, Ann’s granddaughter Annie who I once briefly dated, watch them resume playing, my mother asking if I have any pennies for her, she’s losing, it seems, which is not usual, and I think how lovely these old ladies are, old friends for over 40 years, some like my Aunt Katie and Cousin Rose, a lifetime, and I can’t help but wish I’ll always find them here, Al Martino or Jerry Vale singing in the background, their men, long gone, waiting for them at home, and me, eating my Sicilian salami on rye bread, leaning against the sink, with tears in my eyes because nothing, nothing ever lasts as long as we’d like.