Chicago
Two women got on the train this morning and commenced to beautify themselves. They both put on makeup, then one of them sprayed her hair, which was flattened down on the back and sides and stood up on the top. One strand wouldn’t cooperate, so she went at it again and again, filling that car with that terrible smell and all the while talking to her friend.
November 22, 1986
Chicago
Ronnie’s aunt Tessie used to take her to the Salvation Army in the Bronx and switch price tags. Tessie would pick discarded numbers off the floor of the butcher shop, saying, “Hey, what about me? I was here long before the rest of you.” Once, Ronnie and Tessie were in line at the grocery store. The kid in front of them asked his mother for some candy, and she answered, “No, it’ll ruin your appetite.”
The child started crying, and Tessie butted in, saying, “So let him chew on it and then spit it out. Go ahead, give him some candy.”
Eight years ago we visited her and her husband. Tessie made a big Italian dinner and later approached us, whispering, “Hey, youse don’t happen to have any marijuana, do you?”
We said yes, and she asked for a joint, which she wanted to save for later. Here she was, my mother’s age!
She died of a heart attack last week, and Ronnie wrote to tell me about it.
November 25, 1986
Chicago
I stayed up all night rewriting my new story, which is better now. At two I heated up a couple of frozen potpies and made some crescent rolls. They came in a tube, but still I formed them on the baking tray. I thought I’d take a break from typing and eat in the living room in front of the television, so I put the food on a tray and then tripped while carrying it. The potpies skidded across the floor and flipped over when they hit the baseboard. Rather than cleaning it up right away, I let Neil eat as much of it as she wanted. I just took the crust and continued on to the living room, where I watched a rerun of The Odd Couple that guest-starred Marilyn Horne.
When the show was over I went to clean up my mess and found that Neil had gotten most of it. If she were a dog, she’d have gotten all of it, but I’m happy with her as she is.
November 28, 1986
Chicago
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and today the Christmas season officially started. To celebrate, we went to Daley Plaza and watched them light the big tree. A speaker announced that we had several important guests. One was Ronald McDonald, and another was someone named Mistletoe Bear. The third was the mayor. It was nice watching with Lisa, who arrived on Wednesday night. Amy and I went to the airport to collect her. O’Hare was packed. We met Lisa at her gate, and as we walked her to the baggage claim, Amy did this bit where she pretends she’s super-popular. “Hey, Sandy, great haircut!” she shouted at a stranger while waving. “Jim, I’ll call you!” “Hi, Nancy. Gotta go.” “Mike, yes, this is my sister.”
She has two friends in town from Raleigh, Jan and Sherri, and they joined us all for Thanksgiving. Tonight we went to a bar around the corner called Sharon’s Hillbilly Heaven, a big mistake, as the girls were all dressed up. After we walked in, an older man started talking to Lisa. He was driven off by someone much younger who had glasses on with thick lenses. I tried to step in, and the guy turned on me, saying, “Hey, back off. I was talking to the lady.”
Meanwhile, Amy was cornered by a pimp named Dwayne. “You’re my little shortcake, aren’t you?” he said. He told her he knew all the ladies in Uptown and asked if she liked riding the love stick.
An American Indian woman watched them talk, and as she stomped past, Dwayne called, “Hey, baby, you leaving? Don’t do it, babe, don’t go.”
November 30, 1986
Chicago
Yesterday in Lincoln Park a man asked us for money. “I’m a nice person, really. I’m not a bad guy, just a hungry guy. Can I have some money from you?”
I rooted through my pockets for change but couldn’t find anything. As we walked on, the man shouted after us, “I thought you were nice people, but you’re not. You’re real sons of bitches. Go to hell. May you fall down where you live.”
December 4, 1986
Chicago
There is a deaf man with a goatee in my painting class who can’t speak and is much older than everyone else, in his late forties, maybe. His work is cheerful and surrealistic, Magritte-like trains steaming over the ocean, two dolls having a conversation. The man has no idea of the noise he makes. During critiques and slide lectures, he drags tables and chairs across the room. Steve has two deaf uncles and said that one used to drive through Cleveland with the radio playing full blast. Sometimes it was just static.
December 8, 1986
Chicago
It was foggy today, and dark by three. By five, delinquents were breaking into cars. They’re shameless in this neighborhood. All are white with greasy bangs brushed to the sides of their heads. They all wear Windbreakers and sneakers. Delinquent style is timeless. Real trouble doesn’t walk around with a ponytail. It doesn’t have a Mohawk or special shoelace patterns. Real trouble has a bad complexion and a Windbreaker.
I am making Jeannie’s baked mostaccioli and cheese. You need:
1 pound of mostaccioli
Spinach (I use frozen)
3 eggs
Cheese (Muenster)
1 cup of milk
Butter
Parsley
Cook the spinach and the mostaccioli and mix them together. Add eggs, cheese, and milk. Put it in a buttered pan and dab some butter on top, along with some parsley. Bake it at 350 degrees for half an hour to forty-five minutes.
December 10, 1986
Chicago
Today we started painting critiques. The deaf man put his work up at the front of the room, and while he did it, he farted. Then he handed out pieces of paper we could write our comments on.
December 15, 1986
Chicago
An Asian woman approached me at the IHOP tonight. Without asking, she sat at my table, snuggled up beside me, and said, “Have you had your hug today?”
I pulled back because I am not a hugger. Never have been. When someone wraps their arms around me, I shut down and stand there with my eyes closed, waiting for it to be over.
“I don’t think I need a hug today,” I told the Asian woman. She moved to the next table, where a black man was eating pancakes and looking at a magazine. She did the same thing to him that she’d done to me, and he said, “Would you please leave me alone?”
I’d seen the woman at the IHOP before, trying to sell flowers, and both then and now she was almost eerily cheerful. You have to at least give her that.
After the black man rejected her, she moved to a large group of Mexicans. All the seats at their table were taken, so she squatted on the floor. They couldn’t understand what she wanted, and when she asked a second time, the waitress came and threw her out.
December 17, 1986