Babe was a guy who owned a big tavern against a giant rock bluff in a town across the river from us
Dad took me there a few times, going over the bridge, sunshine becoming a foreign intruder when we opened the door to leave
My dad worked on the side bar-tending for Babe, that extra money probably a necessity for his family of seven with one on the way
Being only 4, I didn’t understand why this grown man was called Babe,
and I asked this man behind the big oval bar
He always gave me a kiddie cocktail, which sounded like kitty to me and I didn’t understand that either, he chuckled as I
Enjoyed the deliciousness of that red with the cherries and the orange slice on the teeny tiny colored sword that balanced across the top
On my tenth birthday my mom was still in the hospital with something they were calling high blood pressure
My dad took me to a supper club, just the two of us on a school night, and Babe was there
He joked around with my dad and laughed that my favorite meal was a bacon and American cheese melted on toast
Babe always seemed to be laughing, and as he left he said to my dad, “Beware the Ides of March with that one huh, Buck?”
I never seemed to get Babe’s jokes, so Dad explained that some guy named Caesar’s murder was predicted to happen on March 15th
Ides means middle, Dad said, and so some fortune teller told Caesar to beware the Ides of March
The fortune teller was right, and Caesar’s good friend Brutus helped to kill Caesar on March 15th
Babe was just being funny dad said, no one was going to kill me. Babe just likes to joke around
Being with dad, his only daughter, out where people always put a smile on their faces when they talked to him, was special
My Dad taking me to a restaurant all by myself on my birthday with my five brothers eating who knows what, at home, and Babe joking around
One of the best moments ever!
Even though I didn’t understand much of the joking, everyone was laughing, and it was my birthday
And I wasn’t so scared then that my mom didn’t get to come home for my birthday; like she promised
Tag Archives: prose
The Real Kind of BFF
This is the first in a series of birthday memories honoring the people who have made every year’s struggles easier and all the goodness more joyful!
In second grade my mom organized the very first of the only two organized birthday parties of my life
The second grade event was the typical affair with cake and ice cream; no one served meals back then
I had to bribe my friend Susan to come by promising to tell her where to sit to get the plate with the secret mark on it
There was a tour of the bakery facility for her Brownie troop the same day as my birthday party
The girl whose father owned the bakery promised she would get the most donuts, and Susan loved donuts
There is no recollection of the gifts I received or whether we played the clothespin game, but we probably did
I remember tiny red headed Maureen O’Connor crying because no one was paying attention to her
She sat in our front entryway threatening to go home, and soon I was pouting in a corner
My mom, who doesn’t like prima-donna behavior, even from a birthday girl, told me to behave and be a good hostess
Maureen won the “Guess How Many Jelly Beans in the Jar” game with my mom, oddly, very close at her side
My best friend Nancy, who also knew about me giving away the secret plate game to Susan, was sure it was a set up
When they call me this year, almost 40 years later, like they do every year on my birthday, I will see if they remember
Nancy still likes candy in big jars all over her kitchen, and Susan still loves donuts…their laughter…still the best gift!
Breakfast with Buse 