Easter Duckies

So, I coach track for fourth graders at a Catholic School.  While walking back from the park to school I asked them if they had a new Easter outfit. They looked at me as if I had two heads. Why, they asked?  I remember how I loved my Easter outfits at their age.  A new dress, hat, lacy anklets and shiny new mary janes. How fabulous Easter was!  We would dress in our finery and drive to my Grandparents house.  My Grandma would cook for days, the meal would be fabulous and then afterward we would gather around the piano and sing.  

My family did Easter well. What makes this particularly noteworthy is that we are Jewish.  We certainly didn’t go to Church.  Nor did we attend Easter Egg Hunts, something I dreamed of.  I finally threw one myself which Darth Vader attended.  I’ve written about that here, check it out when you get a moment.  

It was an American  holiday and we celebrated. Just like we celebrated Christmas, though my brother was born that day so we had an excuse. 

My father had a fondness for animals.  And they had an affinity for him. The fact that he was very allergic to every single animal did not deter him. He would bring home a plethora of animals, which I shall write about in another post. 

When I was 6 years old my father bought us ducklings for Easter.  Not chickies or even a bunny, but two little ducklings.  We didn’t have a pond, lake or river, so we kept them in the bathtub.  I don’t think the ducklings or my mother were particularly happy. 

I don’t recall how or when but suddenly they were gone. Years later I asked my father where they went. He returned them to the pet store. I can only imagine  the conversation my father had with the owner.  Father - these ducklings are defective.  They want to live their own lives and they won’t stay put. I demand a refund!  

In retrospect I’m glad that the duckies had each other in their time of torture. I like to think they found a nice new home on a farm or a park. Nothing says Easter like ducklings in the bathtub!  

Happy Easter, Everyone!  Here’s to Rebirth!  

Tracey and the Tiramisu

So, I worked in an Italian restaurant called Divino when I was quite young.  The owners Mario and Antonio, were dignified gentlemen from Northern Italy and they ran two places next door to each other.  The restaurant was elegant and the servers were men.  The cafe was a fast paced local favorite that had waitresses. I was one of them. The food was very good and the place was always packed.

Waitressing is tough. However, I look back at this time and remember all the fun we had.  They hired women that sparkled, smart, alive and presentable. We worked hard and made decent money.  It was a time when I was very creative — performing with a comedy group called Premises, Premises, singing back up, dancing, writing and going out to clubs that are now legendary.

I learned about service from these gentlemen. They weren’t interested in hearing the details of what went wrong. All they cared about was that you make it right, instantly. If it was a small matter, you would comp a desert, and up and up till, if the matter was large enough you comped the entire table. They wanted their customers taken care of and to leave happy.  

Tracey was in college when she worked at Divino. She was born and raised in Virginia, her father was a congressman.  She had dark hair, pale skin, delicate features and the bluest of blue eyes. She was lovely and lived an uptown girl life. Tracey taught me an invaluable lesson.

Tracey and I worked the Divino booth at an NYC Street fair.  We served dishes that could be prepared in bulk for a smaller price.  A woman came circling about over and over asking the price of this and the price of that. She wondered if she could be charged less for a smaller portion. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. Tracey knew. She loaded up a plate full of food and gave it to the woman at no charge.  The grateful woman walked away with food that might have fed her for a day or two.  I like to think that.

It was a long Saturday night and Tracey and I were tasked with putting the deserts away.  We had to carry them down narrow steps to the refrigerators.  We made many trips up and down.  Suddenly on the way down, I dropped a full tray of tiramisu on Tracey’s feet.  We could not stop laughing.  We made a ruckus and Antonio told us to clean it up.  We couldn’t move we were laughing so hard. Tracey said she could feel the tiramisu  between her toes, and that made us laugh even harder.  We laughed till we cried and then some.

Tracey had one eligible beaux after another.  She went to a fortune teller was told that she would meet her husband on Christmas.  She did.  She married him and had one of the most fun weddings I’ve ever been to. She now lives back in Virginia and has a successful life.

I’ll always remember Tracey’s lesson in kindness.  And the tiramisu.