The Great Husband Hunt (43 page)

I stayed away from the burying. It was more than I could bear. Honey and Murray kindly represented me at the graveside, and I was comforted to hear that Alan had been his own man. He had attended, bringing flowers for his aunt Sapphy and wearing Grandpa Minkel's old
kippah.
There had been pink roses, too, from Humpy Choate in London, England. Births, deaths, Humpy always sent roses.

I said to Murray, “And now what will you do?”

“Go back to Florida,” he said. “And if you have any sense you'll join me there.”

I said, “And get pooped on by a giant bird and have to look at you with a milk mustache?”

“Please yourself,” he said.

Which I tried to do, but there's not much pleasure to be had once you've buried a child. I sold my galleries and tried to be kinder and more attentive to my kith and kin, though it wasn't always appreciated. I visited with Honey every day after she became too obese to leave the house. It was by sitting reading the
Riverside News
to her I learned that one of the Misses Stone had attained her hundredth birthday. It was by watching television shows with her that I learned about women burning their brassieres and marching for rights and hanging on the words of a sour-faced woman called Lily Lelchuck.

I said, “Do you know, I believe I may have met that person. She was an unfortunate. There was a whole tribe called Lelchucks down there.”

“Vera has all her books,” Honey said.

Imagine. People like that writing books and getting onto television shows.

I said, “What do these women want?”

“Just…everything,” Honey said. “How fortunate we've been, Poppy. We never had to burn our bust bodices and we've had absolutely everything.”

I said, “Well, I know
I've
had everything, but I wouldn't have said it was true in your case.”

“Oh yes, I have!” she said. “I've had everything, with extra whipped cream and chopped nuts.”

But Vera hadn't had everything. She left Sherman Ulysses and went looking for whatever it was she'd missed. According to Lily Lelchuck marriage was nothing but codified rape and oppression, although I found it hard to look at my nephew and believe him capable of either of those things. I would have left him because of the way he always looked in his handkerchief after he blew his nose. The only thing I can say in Vera's defense is, she waited until after Honey had passed over.

There was standing room only in the West End Collegiate for Honey's obsequies.

I said to Emerald, “I hope you won't be cutting your aunt's funeral just because she's resting in the arms of Jesus.”

“Mom,” she said, “I'm not an unreasonable person. Of course I'll attend. I'll just close my eyes and daven in my own way. Alan, by the way, is seeing the Strauss girl.”

Then, just when Honey's place was almost cleared and ready to be closed up, Vera left Sherman. I suggested he might like to take Coretta II, but he wouldn't have her. He said he had his Boy Scout Campfire Cookbook. So Coretta II had to be let go. As far as I know she went to California to seek her fortune.

With Honey gone I felt myself move up a place in line.

I said to Em, “You realize I'll be next.”

She said, “Not if Mortie doesn't ease up, you won't. Sunday he was there till midnight doing inventory.”

I said, “No. My time's coming. I can see it when I look in the mirror.”

“Sounds like you're due a trip to the beauty doctor,” she said. But I had lost the inclination for all that.

I said, “I'll go if I can take Maxine. If she doesn't get her nose done soon it'll be too late.”

Of course, a person called Barbra Streisand had made Maxine's type of nose fashionable.

I said, “Let me treat you. Just get the bump smoothed out. Call it a little vacation.”

“No thanks, Grandma,” she said. “But when I get my driver's license, let's go and see your mustard factories. Let's go and see where we came from.”

That child has a pretty good sense of humor for which I believe she has me to thank. Nothing to do with the Boons, that's for sure.

62

We did take a trip, as soon as she finished Senior High, to Blue Grass, Iowa, where we failed to find any installations bearing the name Minkel, but a man in a diner lectured us at length on the importance of Grade I Yellow mustard flour in barbecue relish, all the while perusing down the front of my granddaughter's décolleté.

I said, “You had better get dressed. This is rough territory.”

“What I don't understand, Grandma,” she said, “is how come you still get money when you don't have the factories anymore?”

It was a mystery to me, too, but I believe it had something to do with diversification and wise investment by my uncle Israel. Everything else I left to Mr. Brooks at the bank.

In Duluth, Minnesota, the only place we could find carrying the name of Minkel was an apparel store for men who fish and trap.

I said, “I'm a descendant of Jesse Minkel. Is he anything to do with this outfit?”

The man said, “No. And we don't give credit neither.”

I was about to explain how many times over I could buy and sell his miserable establishment when Maxine jumped in and told him she was writing up a college paper on her Minkel forebears.

She said, “There was a Meyer Minkel. And an Addie Minkel. Did you ever hear of them?”

“Addie Minkel!” he said. “Mad Addie! You only just missed her.”

I said, “Which way?”

“No,” he said. “She went to her rest. Last year. Maybe two years. Mad Addie. She was as wide as she stood high.”

Maxine said, “Maybe there's family. Can we look in your phone book?”

“Addie didn't have family,” he said. “She was the end of the line. They say she had medals, from French France. I don't know. She always looked an unnatural type of woman to me.”

“Grandma,” Maxine said, as we were leaving the wader store, “it seems to me the Minkels have died out.”

The man called us back. “There was talk,” he said, “of naming a scenic picnic area after her, but nothing ever came of it.”

I said, “Let this be a lesson to you, Maxine. In life you have to look ahead not behind.”

In 1976 Mortie and Em celebrated their thirtieth anniversary in the ballroom at Union Temple, and less than a year later we were back there eating an identical buffet for Alan's marriage to Ruthie Strauss.

I said, “Shall I buy you an apartment?”

“No thank you,” he said. “A washer-dryer would be good though. As long as you promise not to wheel it into the temple.”

Angelica and Edgar sent a gift certificate from Harrods department store.

“You'll be able to choose something if ever you're in London,” Angelica wrote.

I said to Em, “A gift certificate! How long is that good for? Those things expire, you know?”

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “It's the thought that counts.”

That's another adage I have never understood.

Ruthie was a cute kid. She had pretty hair, curly without being troublesome. The only thing about her was, she was so Jewish. She wouldn't even serve Boston cream pie after a roast chicken.

Em said, “That girl will run herself into the ground.”

Ruthie had a position teaching kindergarten as well as keeping kosher at home and taking a turn once a week at a night shelter for unfortunates. That was the way things were since Lily Lelchuck's books were all the rage. Before a person decides she wants everything I'd recommend her to find out just how big this “everything” is.

I had moved to a smaller apartment after I had had three robberies and claudication of the arteries, but I never settled. Smaller didn't suit me, somehow.

Then Sherman announced he was taking early retirement from the bank.

I said, “Is it that time already?”

“Not quite,” he said, “but I'm ready. I'm tired of this city. Tired of looking over my shoulder all the time and getting grit in my eyes and hearing the F word. I'm taking a leaf out of Murray's book. Going to Florida.”

I said, “I see.”

“Now what?” he said. “You look like you lost a dollar and found a dime.”

It was just that I had always been given to understand that I had first refusal on Murray's spare room.

I said, “I didn't think you two got along so well.”

“We don't need to,” he said. “I'm not moving in. I may drive over once in a while. Play checkers. No, I'm going to the Pelican Bay Retirement Home. You get assisted living and amenities.”

I said, “What amenities?”

“Shuffleboard,” he said. “And round the clock medical attendance. Why don't you come with me?”

I said, “Shuffleboard? I used to fly my own plane to the Bois de Vincennes.”

Besides, I had to stay in New York and comfort Emerald while Mortie had coronary bypass surgery. Then Ruthie and Alan presented me with my first great-grandchild.

I said, “Flower names are coming back into vogue.”

We got a boy though, as things turned out, and they named him Abraham. Abraham Strauss Boon. He arrived at five o'clock in the morning and Alan was so excited he phoned me there and then.

“I saw him born, Grandma,” he said. “I took pictures and everything.”

I said, “I'll pass on those.”

I was thrilled, though. It was still dark outside but I called Murray right away and roused him out of his haiku retirement. Here is what he wrote.

GREAT GREAT NEPHEW

Welcome Baby Abe

Abhorrible Dorabel is

Happy now. Maybe.

We talked on the phone once a week, unless something came up.

He said, “You called me yesterday. Are you getting forgetful?”

I said, “My mind is razor sharp. But it occurred to me to ask you something. Angelica Bagehot once told me you adored me. Is that true?”

“Does that mean you'll move to Florida?” he said.

That was Murray. Always answers a question with another question. Well, two can play that game.

I said, “Did you get diapers yet for the parakeet?”

“Parrot,” he said. “No. When I start wearing them she'll start wearing them. That's the deal.”

63

We like to get the Early Bird Special, half past four to six, Monday through Friday. Fixed price. Soup, entrée, dessert and choice of beverage. Weekends Sherman drives over and we try different places. Sophie's Place is OK. The salad bar, the bathrooms, everything's on the level and the parking lot is at the rear. I can drop those two old fools out front and then proceed to park without Sherman Ulysses waving his arms, giving me directions.

Murray said, “Why don't you just drive over his foot.”

I said, “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

Murray asked the girl if she was Sophie.

“Hunh?” she said.

“Poppy's would be a good name for an eatery,” he remarked.

“Or an opium den,” Sherman said.

“I'd like to have had something named after me,” Murray said. “I guess it's too late now.”

I said, “Such as? A mall?”

“Probably not a whole mall,” he said. “Maybe a medium size shopping opportunity with a food court. I think I swallowed a fish bone.”

“Suck on a lemon,” Sherman said. “That'll move it.”

They were out of lemons.

I said, “Then bring him the key lime pie. Limes are nearly the same as lemons.” I'd warned him not to have the seafood bake. I'd told him to order the eggplant roulade.

Sherman said, “I'd like to be a medical center. The Sherman Grace Medical Center.”

Murray said, “I don't want key lime pie. The fish bone's cured so I'll get the ice cream medley. I think I'd rather be a causeway. The Murray Jacoby Causeway.”

I said, “Cousin Addie Minkel got war medals and they couldn't even get around to naming a scenic picnic venue for her.”

Murray said, “Or, The Murray Jacoby Wildlife Refuge. That'd be fine. I need another glass of milk.”

Sherman said, “I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Medical research shows that many human beings lack the enzyme for digesting cows' milk. So the stock I told you to buy and you ignored me? I bought it. And it went up. Still going up as a matter of fact. Aunt Poppy, loan me your specs. I'm going to read the contraindications on your medication.”

I said, “Well, of course, my name is already known.”

Murray said, “I'll bet Sophie here never heard of you. Pass me your serviette. I'm going to take some of this foliage home for Grizel. May as well. We've paid for it. So what happens to the milk?”

“Turns to rubber,” Sherman said, “and just lies there, giving you gas pains for the rest of your life.”

“Rubbish,” Murray said. “Now pipe down while I read you my latest haiku. And don't tell me you can't understand it.”

Sherman never got the hang of haiku.

“QUESTION,” Murray began,

Jew suppose we'd still

Be wandering if we hadn't

Found Daytona Beach?

“No. Didn't understand it,” Sherman said. “Poppy, have you been experiencing dizziness, breathlessness or muscular cramps? If so, you should consult your physician immediately.”

Reading Group Guide

Questions for Discussion

1. The book opens with a genealogy, “Poppy Minkel and the British Royal Family.” Besides the humor of this tenuous connection, what is the point of including it? Does it relate to Mortie's statement: “A person who knows where he came from need never feel lost. Roots are a blessing. If you know where you came from you know who you are and you can decide where you're going” (p. 330)? Do you feel that statement is true or false?

2. Poppy is the narrator and central character—and what a character she is. What about her is particularly outrageous? Do you feel she is naive, or is that a pose? What do you think about her rejection of her daughters? Her lack of recognition of the German threat? Her belief that money can fix anything? What is it that you think she needs above all else?

3. Are all the women characters in this book focused on “The Great Husband Hunt”? Is marriage a recipe for happiness for the women in this book? Emerald says, “Mom, I have a life. The best kind” (p. 306). Does she truly have “the best kind”? Is it the best kind for every woman?

4. We have a number of women characters being left without their fathers in this novel. What impact do you feel the loss of a father has on each of them? Do you feel their reactions are authentic and true in your experience?