Within That Red Oval...

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Within that red oval...
 
A woman
with a tight white leather skirt
and red boots was waiting for me.

She had hair down to her waist
and there was a shovel in her hand.
She was digging a hole

when I saw her.

She kissed me

and then walked away

after handing me the shovel.

She returned to the man
in the window 
but it was not
the man you see.
   
The man in the picture
purchased the property in 1981.

He purchased it 
from the Oliverios
and his name
is Michael.

Michael was generous enough
to let me photograph a yard
where I had ten memories
per square foot.

**********

  The man in the window
supplied the red boots
and the white leather skirt.

The woman with the shovel
was a gift for me
and for three
other Oliverios.

Physically, she was a gift
for the man in the window's wife
who would not be cooking
dinner that night in 1964.

"The gift" had been there before
but always with some combination
of her sons and daughters.

Always with her husband
who would sit in the rocking chair
while everyone else
went to the beach.

The sons and daughters
of Her sons and daughters
were my cousins.

Her husband had died
three months before
"Mini-skirt MINNIE Day."

**********

The man in the window
was my Father
and it delighted him
to see how fascinated
his 15 year-old son was 
by a white leather skirt
and red boots.

He had bought them for her
in her bereavement.

She would always be dressed in black,
three months after my grandfather died.

When she saw the skirt and boots,
at her home in Cedarhurst,
she reacted with shock.


When she saw the skirt and boots,
she was told,
Put them on, Mama,
I am taking you to Rocky Point.
    
**********

On a scale of one to ten,
my Mother's cooking abilities
rated, at least, 9.2
but my Italian Grandmother
rated, at least, 12.7

There was no way
my sisters and I 
would let our Mother cook
when our Grandmother
was willing and eager to do so,
despite being dressed
for a night at a disco. 

My father invited a friend
of his for dinner:
his oldest friend–
a fisherman who bore
an uncanny resemblance
to my late Grandfather.

Does that man look
like a pimp?

If you say YES
I will not be offended
because when my Father
showed me this picture, he said
I could have had 
a successful career
as a pimp but your Mother
was too beautiful to share.

That statement 
about my Mother
was indisputably true.

But the night my widowed Grandmother,
in a mini-skirt and leather boots,
sat across from an eligible
same-age bachelor,
all she did was ignore
the man and glare 
at her son!

His son and two daughters
were too absorbed
in their Veal Mostaccioli
to notice!


All my mother did
during that meal
was laugh quietly.

**********

A month later, we went 
to my Grandmother's house
in Cedarhurst.

I was very anxious to see
my cousins, aunts and uncles
whom I hadn't seen while 
we were summering 
in Rocky Point.

Of course, my Grandmother
was dressed in black but when
she served the meal,
she excused herself.

She returned to the dining room
wearing the white leather skirt
and red boots.

In polite company,
I cannot repeat the jokes
my uncles made during the meal
but all I could think was
Where's the shovel?  

________________________________________________________________________________________________