We've yet to have a barbecue at Mom's. By this time in the year, we've usually had a few. Dad tidying up the back a little. Mom asking us what we'd like on the grilled menu. Vegetables, please! And chicken too! Us hanging on the weekends just relaxing. Calling Auntie & Uncle to join us from CT. Sometimes some pool golf, a gift we'd given Dad years ago. Playing golf -- pool table style. Dad in his grilled-up t-shirt hanging halfway so that his gallbladder scar shows and his old man Chinese dragon, Muay Thai-looking boxers and tongs in hand flipping meats & making sure not to overcook the eggplant & zucchini. A cup of red wine in the other. And songs like "May Way" and "More" glaring just a bit from the retro minus-one boombox. Those days are gone. And it may be a long while before we ever have a barbecue in the back again. Until then, I'm happy to barbecue in Stamford among family & close friends.
A quick note about Father's Day
Knowing that we'd be spending most of the weekend in CT, A. & I had spent Friday night into Saturday with Mom & Dad T. in Jackson (NJ), making sure to treat Dad T. to lunch. Once Sunday afternoon (actual Father's Day) came, A. said to me, "Did you call my Dad?" (Do we have to? We saw him yesterday already!) I couldn't help but respond, "Did you call mine?!"
And A. shot back with, "Yes. I spoke with him in church."
Yeah. Me too.
