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Dad would inevitably turn to sport, our single subject of common interest. “Hey, Teddy, you know the last time the Yankees played the Cubs at Wrigley on an 101 degree day, Bernie Williams hit two homers?” I’d nod along, feigning interest, as he reeled off a series of even more mind-numbing stats. Finally, Mom would interject by trying to steer the conversation to art – her single subject of common interest with Dad. That was my best guess at how he’d landed her. Mom had been an aspiring art collector and Dad had introduced her to a lot of the prominent art dealers and artists on the East coast. Dad also came from good stock. His mother was a direct descendant of Teddy Roosevelt and his grandfather on his father’s side had been a Big Oil man. So Dad was a tedious, well-connected workaholic. But the other thing you need to understand is that Mom was a living wet dream. A former Guess model and Miller Lite girl, she was tall, curvy and gorgeous. At thirty-eight, she had somehow managed. As we visited with others around the room she held my hand. I wondered if she just wanted to present a positive image or was nervous to be in a room in which she knew no one but I could not figure that out. I eventually decided that she simply wanted to hold my hand. I was more than happy about that and I made sure we held hands at all possible times. Dinner was good and the Secret Santa exchange was a lot of fun with many risqué presents. Ellie got an electric massager that could be used anywhere on her body, anywhere. She told everyone she already had the industrial strength version of the unit and offered to swap it. After the hoots and risqué remarks calmed down she swapped it with Lara, our school librarian, for an afternoon sailboat cruise with cheeses and wine on the bay. Lara then received the brunt of the verbal abuse, which she really enjoyed. The gift I had purchased for Ellie to give as a secret Santa was a DVD package of the Pink circus show that went to my best friend.
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