Re: Hello, this is your father speaking


Hello! You didn’t know your father had email, did you? Well, I’ll admit we don’t have much use for it down at the shop, but I do like to have one for bidding on antique Electroluxes on eBay. You never know when you might find one that just needs a little tweaking to get it running again.

Anyway, what is this I hear that you and Mark got married today at Zio Matteo’s place in Marche? Is this true?

Well, if it is true, you have made your mother very sad. She is at church right now, making a novena for you. At Mass this evening she plans to petition for a prayer of the faithful to be said for your immortal soul.

I, however, want to be the first to say congratulazioni. Or should I say mazel tov? I know in the past your mother and I have expressed our concern about Mark not sharing our beliefs. But you are a big girl now, and you need to make your own decisions. I have always liked Mark. At least he understands how a motor works, unlike some of your brothers.

And, as I said to your mother, it will be a good thing to have a doctor in the family. Especially since I have a mole I would like for him to look at when the two of you come to visit.

Don’t worry about your mother. I will ask Father Bob to have a word with her.

And, of course, now she’ll be able to concentrate on making Mark convert. You know how she loves a project.

Much love,

Dad

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To: Mark Levine <mark.levine@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Ruth Levine <r.levine@levinedentalgroup.com >

Re: Hello!


Mark. Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me that Marie Caputo, from whom I just received a nearly hysterical phone call, claiming one of her sons told her that you and her daughter have eloped, is suffering from a psychotic delusion.

Mark—what were you thinking? Do you know what you’ve done? What am I going to tell Gloria Schramm? I promised you’d call Susie just as soon as you got back to New York. Now you’re going to call her, not to ask her to meet you at the Cub Room for after-work drinks, but to tell her you’re married? The poor girl will have another one of her episodes. Last time they found her wandering around Fifth Avenue in nothing but Uggs and a pair of Spanx.

Tell me it isn’t true. Do you know how far in advance you have to reserve the reception room at the country club? A year! If you had just let me know you were planning something like this, I could have put my name on the list months ago, and we might have been able to have a nice party when you two get back. Now what am I supposed to do? Have people over to the house? You know we haven’t had the dining room wall replastered yet from when those stupid kitchen people accidentally drilled straight through while they were installing the new cabinets.

We might be able to get a room at the Marriott if they’ve had a cancellation. I’ll have to check.

And your father says now you’ll be paying taxes this year as if you were a married man for the entire twelve months, when you were only married for three of them. He says you should have waited until January.

What size coat does Holly wear? I’m going to look into having your uncle Isaac make her up a mink. And don’t go telling me she’s opposed to wearing fur, it gets very cold in New York, and if she’s going to be having my grandchildren, I want to make sure she doesn’t walk around with a head cold half the year. You could have told us, you know, Mark. Your father and I would have loved a trip to Italy. You know the last place he took me was the Bahamas and it rained the whole time.

Love to you both,

Mom

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To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Fr: Claire Harris <charris2004@freemail.com>

Re: Holly and Mark


Honey! I’m so excited for them! I just ran into Marie at the Kroger Sav-On. She was carrying on about how God never gives you more than you can handle and that this just means more time in purgatory for Holly, you know, but I could tell she was over the moon. She was positively glowing.

Although that might have been because it’s unseasonably hot here for September.

Still, she was buying Lender’s bagels. Bagels! I asked her about them, and she very nearly blushed as she replied, “They’re for freezing. For when Mark and Holly come to visit, Then I’ll defrost them. He likes to have them for breakfast, you know.”

I think that’s a good sign, don’t you?

Anyway, I hope you’re still having a nice time. Daddy and I are fine. He did get a few acid burns while changing the battery in the Volvo, but Neosporin seems to be working just fine on them.

And just in case you got any ideas from Holly and Mark’s wedding, I hope you know your father and I don’t care WHO you marry, as long as you invite us.

Although I do think that Cal Langdon would probably look very nice in a tuxedo.

Love,

Mom

___________________________________________


To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Fr: Malcolm Weatherly <malcolmw@snowstyle.com>

Re: Ciao!


Hey, babe. Haven’t heard from you in days. Hope things are okay.

Listen, I was just wondering—we’re not exclusive or anything anymore, are we? I mean, it’s okay to hook up with other people, right? Since I moved out? Because I sort of met someone. Just drop me a line and let me know, will ya? I don’t want to do anything to piss you off. But a guy’s got needs, you know?

Peace out,

Malcolm

___________________________________________


To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Fr: Julio Chasez <julio@streetsmart.com>

Re: The Dude


Hi, Ms. Harris. Listen, I was wondering—when are you getting back, exactly? Because The Dude, he’s— well, he seems like he misses you, or something. I mean, this morning when I went in to feed him, I caught him gnawing on the screen over the window, trying to get out onto the fire escape, on account of there being a pigeon there. He made a pretty big hole in it, actually. The screen I mean. My dad replaced it, though, don’t worry, and I shut the window all the way so he can’t do it again.

And just now he kind of bit me again when all I was trying to do was pet him.

So I was just wondering… when are you coming home, again?

I hope it’s soon.

Julio

PDA of Cal Langdon

PDA of Cal Langdon

It seems fairly obvious to me that I could have handled that better.

Really, Grazi’s timing could not have been more unfortunate. I think I had almost gotten her to forgive me for my earlier, unfortunate gaffes.

Although I still insist my opinions, especially on marriage, were perfectly valid. You can’t tell me there isn’t an educated person alive who might, looking at the world as it is today, wonder if bringing a new life into it might not be the wisest course of action. Given the state of the global-economic—not to mention environmental—situation as it exists at this moment, what kind of person could possibly consider having children, when all that child stands to inherit is a planet devoid of adequate energy sources and (as a consequence of this rape of our fossil fuels) an ozone layer; bankrupt Social Security and Medicaid; and a community terrorized by fundamentalists who believe it is their inherent right to exert their values and beliefs on others, through physical force, if necessary?

Only a fool.

And yet, for the first time in my life, I can see how being a fool can have its advantages. Especially if what you’re being a fool for is love.

God. I can’t believe I just wrote that.

But, incredibly, it’s true. I can see now why Mark and Holly felt they had to marry, in spite of their parents’ opposition, in spite of what they know about this world and the dangers it holds. I can see now why it was so important to them to legalize their union—why having an easily accessible escape route from a romantic relationship isn’t always necessarily the best thing, if you want the relationship to last.

I see all these things now.

Too bad I can’t convince her of that.

Not that I thought it would be easy. But I honestly never anticipated that I might be doing it from the bottom of a pool.

Here is where the Old Cal might start bleating about how She’s got some nerve, expecting me to have acted like a damned eunuch in the past, when I didn’t even know her. This is when the Old Cal might think to himself, Why am I even bothering to put myself through this? I’ve got a perfectly beautiful, elegant, sophisticated Italian woman right here who’d be more than happy to make love with me all night long. Why am I worrying about what some American cartoonist is thinking?

Ah, there’s the rub. Because I don’t want the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated Italian woman. I want the cartoonist with the cat tattoo who can’t seem to stop tripping over her own shoes.

God help me.

She, however, has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want me. At least, not anymore. I suppose Grazi strolling in like that, looking as if she owned the place in that hat and those stilettos, was just one strike too many against me.

Grazi was perfectly understanding about it. She apologized for not having checked her email, and said by the time she got my phone messages, she was already on her way. I believe I made quite an ass of myself, trying to explain what was going on, as I drove her back to the train station (after I’d changed into dry clothes, of course).