Yesterday was no different- and yet it was.
Pat (a stranger to all of us but Barbara) rolled up in her electric powered scooter, saw the empty place setting and said "I'm going to sit here. Do you mind if I sit here?"
We were startled by abruptness but always friendly and welcoming so I moved a chair (at her request/demand) and she pulled up to the table.
Greathusbandbob generally sees himself as responsible for ensuring everyone feels heard and welcomed. He notices she is wearing green (it was St. Patrick's Day) and says- Pat, I see you're wearing green, are you Irish? to which she replies With a name like Pat Mcsomethingorother I better be. We chuckle-not sure if it's a joke or a rant. Sometimes with the Irish it's hard to tell. We also learn that she has been at The Village since August, that she came unwillingly and that talking about it makes her really angry.
Greathusbandbob says I wonder who came up with leprechauns as another conversation starter. Pat immediately jumps in with a rather lengthy diatribe on how first wealthy Irishmen came to the U.S. then the second wave (she refers to them as Irish who were considered seedier) came because of the potato famine. They were considered only one notch above the n word and there were signs that said Irish and n* need not apply. The Irish wanted to fit in better in the new country so they started having parties on St. Patrick's day so that they could invite everyone and show how they were good people to be around. She concludes with So leprechauns were invented in America.
None of this was news to me- I read books. I also have read old Irish folk tales that speak of leprechauns in Ireland. While celebrating St. Patricks day to the degree we do may be similar to what has happened to Cinco de Mayo, I know for a fact that leprechauns are historically a part of Irish folklore and a part of their mythology. I remain politely silent.
A little chuffed at her condescending nature, greathusbandbob asks Have you read Trinity- a fictional account of the history of the Irish by Leon Uris? Funny part here is that I'm guessing greathusbandbob has probably read 20 books cover to cover in his life. For him to drop the title of a book in conversation is hilarious to me- but also sets her back on her heels a little bit to realize she's not dealing with a table full of cavemen.
Greathusbandbob then talks about how his family was English until his grandfather married his grandmother (who was Irish) and ran a bar in FivePoints New York called Terry's Tavern. To which she responds- Well you know all about the seedier side then. Holy laugh my head off batman!
As conversation continues into other subjects she refers to and pronounces Belarus as Bellruss and Purim as Poohrim. No one else at the table knew what she was talking about in the first one- I did, but again, I am not one to correct condescending strangers. As for the second one, Aunt Sippy jumped on that shit- I believe secretly happy to be able to. (again, normally I don't even acknowledge slips like these but she was just such a know-it-all it was hard not to.)
We also discover that she was a medical doctor in Zanesville, OH for 21 years and she shares with us the name of the bones in the jaw and in the hand. Not to be outdone, Aunt writes her last name (also the "villain" in Purim) in Hebrew.
Greathusbandbob- ever the conversationalist- tells the story of how, when he was a member of the Bridgeport, OH city council, the drunk mayor suggested that the stray cats in Bridgeport were causing herpes and aids. He also shares his theory about the old and new testament of the bible- suggesting that God was a raging alcoholic in the old testament smiting and sacrificing people all over the place and how maybe he started going to AA in the new testament- with all of the love your neighbor, turn the other cheek.
My winning one-liner for the day came at that point when I said They say having kids changes you.
When she finished eating, Pat left as abruptly as she arrived saying that she had to go back to her room and pet her cats. Which made me think of course, she's not a dog person. We imagine the letter she writes to family that reads You've got to get me out of here! They said my cat had herpes and aids AND THEN they said God was an alcoholic!
Having encountered her before, Barbara told the story of how, during Bingo, she selected a specific Bingo card (she wanted one with a 9 on it) then had to step away from the table. When she returned to the table Pat had taken her bingo card and her seat and told her you have 2 right in front of you, use those. Karma dictated that Barbara won twice and she won none with Barbara's card.
It was as if we were hit with a cyclone bomb of entertainment that left as quickly as it came leaving laughter in its wake. So entertaining was it that we decided that we should make the 6th chair at our table open for a guest diner each week. In fact, the privilege could be one of the prizes at Bingo.
Meanwhile greathusbandbob is scouring the internet looking for leprechaun pins that say Made in America.
1 comment:
I look forward to future accounts of conversations with the sixth person at your table. Hard to top Pat, though...
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