Almost that time

Next Saturday I will be in New Jersey for Sybil's knee replacement. To prepare myself I've been ignoring all phone calls from my mother. After nine messages on Saturday and four on Sunday I finally called her this morning. There was no mention of the thirteen messages. When pressed for what was so important all Sybil could say was she forgot.

On another note, Sybil has been arranging my ride to her house from the airport by bargaining with a local taxi driver/ex mayor of Hillsdale.

This is the actual text the taxi driver sent my brother about the bargaining:

I hope mom gets through her surgery to attend my funeral. She is killing me with her bargaining!!!


This is going to be an amazing trip.

Did I mention I take off at 6 AM because Sybil bought me my ticket with mileage and a coupon for peaches.

Yes my mom bought me my ticket. It was the only way I would go.

Dangerous Minds

Recently there was a stabbing outside a school in the Bronx that Sybil worked in when she was eight months pregnant with me. Today Sybil reminisced about when she started working there, one rambunctious student took one look at her and said, "Lady, you have no business being in this school in your condition." I would like to believe that he was referring to her mental state, but more than likely he was referring to me kicking my way out.

My late brother, I mean sister

In 1977 tragedy struck. Sybil miscarried her third child. Forget the fact that Sybil was 40 back when 40 was considered a 100 and an absurd age to even think about having a kid, or the fact that she smoked, or even the fact that she didn't take any prenatal vitamins. The real reason she miscarried according to her was that our father made her work. If she was just able to stay at home with her children like all mothers should, she would have had a healthy third child. I like to pretend it was all my dad's fault because he threw her down the stairs.

I always wonder what that third child would have been like. I would have been relegated to being the middle child, but it might have been worth it to have a little brother to start fires with. Then again, it could have been a girl. All I picture is a miniature Sybil with half the fro and twice the lunacy. Maybe this happening was for the best. Obviously I mean my dad throwing my mom down the stairs.

You can't find good help these days

Sybil: There is snow everywhere. I need the driveway shoveled.
Barry: I doubt you will have a heart attack if you do it yourself. Kidding, why don't you hire someone?
Sybil: Where am I going to find someone who plows driveways?

I've had this conversation with Sybil regarding every topic under the sun; snow removal, house cleaning, plumbing, murder, you name it. I don't know if it's her aversion to paying people or she literally thinks there is no one who would do these things for money. I'm guessing it's the paying people to do things that she has a problem with. She wasn't always like this. At once point we had a housekeeper/live in maid/aid to my grandmother. Then again here's some information on some of those past housekeepers.

Eileen - Black Housekeeper that I would constantly ask if she showered. When she said yes I would ask her why she was still black. Due to my brother's racial insensitivity I thought a pumpernickel bagel was called an Eileen bagel. She quit.

Woman I can't remember her name - Cooked a chicken in it's plastic wrapper. She lasted one day. Apparently she was just released from a mental institution and wasn't ready for work.

Doloris - I think she was Haitian. When I was a baby my head stunk anytime she held me. My brother caught her kissing a minister from her church in our garage. She quit.

Marion - Nice woman from Jamaica, but she wasn't much younger than my grandmother. Used to make us Barbie cakes. I always ate the dress first. She had epilepsy and would occasionally have seizures in front of me. My mother kept her on after my grandmother died but didn't pay her. She lived with us for free. She has since retired to heaven.

Spanish Housekeeper - Stole my mom's jewelry and called Puerto Rico from our house phone. You know how Sybil feels about long distance. She was fired.

And the best of all:

Pat - White trash from neighboring town. My mother told me she was my dad's girlfriend. Very confusing. She stole my grandmother's social security check. Only gave it back when my mom told her if she cashed it she would be arrested. Shockingly wasn't fired. Fucked her boyfriend in my parents bed when they were out of town. Don't think the boyfriend was my dad. Used to beat my ass with a metal spatula (another story). Quit after my dad refused to buy her a Pinto.

I can't wait until Sybil starts interviewing aids for her knee replacement.

Flushing Q-Tips

This may seem minor but my mother flushes q-tips down the toilet. She cleans her ears and just tosses the waxy stick into the bowl. If you figure she uses two a day and has lived in her house 38 years, that is 27,740 q-tips for her alone. That doesn't factor in leap year, or the fact she told me and my brother to do the same thing. Now I would like to know how in all this time she has never had a plumbing issue? I actually thought this was totally normal until my early 20's when a roommate of mine caught me doing it and totally freaked out. I tried to explain what I learned to Sybil, but she just cocked her head and said I think that only applies to the generic brand of q-tips. I dropped it after that.

Father's Day?

It was just brought to my attention that today is Father's Day. I've never heard of this holiday. Growing up we celebrated Mother's Day and Your Father's A Bum And If Anyone Is Getting A Gift It's Me Day. I don't know why she was so hostile. I can make ash trays for both of them.

Because you're blek

In the late '70's when inflation was at an all time high Sybil was looking for some absurd places to park her money. Toyota Dealerships, Ostrich Farms, Gold bars. Out of all these ideas, gold seemed to be the one that made the most sense regardless of the fact gold was already at an all time high. It can never end right? So where do you actually find gold to buy? Do you go to a bank? Do you go to Zales and ask them to melt some chains down? I actually have no clue. Sybil though had a brilliant idea. She found someone selling krugerrands. For those of you that do not know, a krugerrand is a South African gold coin that at one time accounted for 90% of the global gold coin market. Thank you Wikipedia. Here's the problem. At the time, most western countries were banning the import of these coins because of South Africa's Apartheid government. The investment was seen in bad taste. I've made some poor investment choices (Tesla options), so I really can't fault Sybil for wanting to buy standardized gold coins regardless of their political association, but I can fault her for what she did with one of them. Now remember these coins symbolize a government that feels Blacks and Whites should be separated. Sybil took one of the coins and had it fixed so she could wear it on a chain. She worked in a predominately black school and she was going to wear a necklace that said Fuck You Black People to work.  I never actually saw her wear it but the whole idea is insane. She had some balls. When I asked her about it. She claimed it was because the coin was pretty. Makes sense.


Editor's Note - Sybil recently found two canceled checks for the krugerrands from 1978. Both checks had notes that they were for eleven coins and the amounts were the same. Sybil took this as she double paid for the coins. She actually called the place up and asked for her missing eleven coins. It's only been 35 years so I don't see any problem with her logic. Amazingly the company still had the records and said to Sybil "Nice try, the first check was canceled." So close!

Spring Cleaning

As documented here and in random pictures at the police department it has been proven that Sybil has legendary hoarding skills. I always like to reference the box of classical music CDs that NatWest Bank was giving out to customers. Most customers took one CD, Sybil took a case. This hoarding is not just limited to nonperishable items, the kitchen at her house has a collection of food that is insane. There are at least 500 soy packets laying around from Chinese dinners throughout the years and let's not forget the long expired box of Franken Berry still in the cereal cabinet from my childhood. 

I guess there is a limit for everyone because Sybil did clean out the freezer once in the last twenty years. This is how she did it. My brother had this heavy set friend visiting from college that mentioned he was hungry and Sybil jumped up and said, "Let me make you something." She suddenly was all motherly. 

Sybil then proceeded to take every item out of the freezer that had expired ten years ago and offered them up to this poor boy. I sat there as my mother microwaved Howard Johnson's Clams and Ronzoni lasagna, followed by a Saralee pound cake. This kid just plowed through all this expired crap. At one point I saw him drinking a glass of chocolate milk. There was no chocolate sauce in our house!

After about an hour the freezer was bare, the microwave was hot, and this kid was full. I expected him to vomit on the steps, but instead he just dropped his glass of milk, sending glass and chocolate everywhere. I assume this happened because he was woozy from eating poison. I asked Lewis later if he ever got sick and the only response I got was, "I never asked."

Do you know who my brother in law is?

My mother had a sister who was for all intents and purposes, estranged from our family. It was mostly out of her embarrassment about being related to Sybil, and Sybil's ill behaved off spring. This aunt lived a very luxurious lifestyle in the suburbs of Philadelphia. She had married a fairly intelligent man who was a Vice President at Bamberger's/Macy's. They had a fancy life of tennis clubs, european vacations, and not one but two gay children. They were true one percenters.

Even with very little contact (they did fight over my grandmother's jewelry), my mother still took full advantage of who her sister was married to when it was time to return something to Bamberger's. There was one instance in particular when she was returning Lewis's torn Mighty Mac jacket. Lewis had got it caught on something or it was just worn out causing the asbestos like filling to pour out of a sleeve. Since his OCD could never stand for having a leaking jacket and Sybil refusing to spend on a new one, the only solution was to return it. When the sales clerk saw the jacket and deemed it not returnable, Sybil did the only thing she could think of. She screamed at the top of her lungs, "Do you know who my brother in law is?!" Obviously the clerk did not. So then Sybil explained he was the Vice President of the store and that she was going to get him on the phone right that instance. These were the days before cell phones so personally I think the store clerk should have called her bluff. Instead the lady who wished she took the day off, caved.

Sybil left with a new jacket, one size up of course. She used the "Do you know who my brother in law is." line at least three more times. I even think she used it in Nordstrom once.

Pajamas are for sick people

Last year I wasn't sure what to get my mother for her birthday so I decided a pair of pajamas would do the trick. After deciding against a snuggie, I ordered something nice and sent it out fedex.

Your average person would have received the pajamas and regardless of liking them or not, thanked me and called it a day.  Sybil instead called me up and told me my gift was shit and you send pajamas to sick people.

Next year I will just send a check.

Live Blogging from Sybil's bedside

In less than a month I will be traveling alone to New Jersey to spend a week with Sybil. I'm hoping we go to Jones Beach, eat ice cream from Friendlys', see movies, and just enjoy each other's company. If that doesn't work out, my back up plan is to accompany my mother to the hospital where she will have her left knee replaced with styrofoam and wood. She has an HMO and that is the best they can do. In all seriousness this will be a trying time for me. I will be spending a week alone with my mother and if the surgery goes well my source for new material will be dead and buried. If the surgery isn't a success, figure this blog can run at least ten more years.

On the street

It's funny how two people growing up in the same house can have such varied experiences. For instance the reasons I hate my mother are totally different than the reasons my brother hates her. Obviously neither of us hate her because she is a Saint, but we did get treated differently. For example, growing up, Sybil chose to tell Lewis daily that we would soon run out of money and be on the street and that no one would care, especially not our paternal grandmother who was rich. Sybil told this to Lewis so many times that his fear of running out of money is even strong today. He hides money in his mattress. I, on the other hand, was never told this, so for every five dollars I have I try to spend seven.

Then again when she was done badgering Lewis she did like to tell me I had a face just like my father's side of the family. Now that I think about it, I don't think she meant it as a compliment. I should call her and ask.

Grandma

I've mentioned in a few posts that my maternal grandmother lived with us when I was a child. The mother of the mother. She was a special lady. I wrote my college essay about her.  It detailed how she had a dirt floor as a child in Russia, came to America alone when she was nine, and worked in a factory to save to bring her family over. She had all the makings of a great immigration story that should be on the wall at Ellis Island. I think a man with a pencil mustache tried to steal her money on the ship ride over from the old country.

By the time I knew my grandmother she was in her late 70's/early 80's. This was in the early 80's when old people seemed really old. By the time I was five my grandmother already had had a series of strokes and was in the late stages of dementia/Alzheimer's. With that, some strange things happened in my house. In no particular order here are a few:

• In Yiddish she asked my mother if she found me in the street.
• Also in Yiddish she said I was a pretty girl (shayna maiden)
• She gave me a screw driver to play with in my crib.
• She wandered out in the middle of the night and my neighbors had her returned via the police.
• She sometimes would wear a skull ring from a gum ball machine.
• When I was five my mother left me to watch her. Sybil came back to a dark house. I was asleep with my grandmother sitting next to me.
• My mother kept my grandmother's long red braid that was cut off 50 years ago in a drawer in the basement.
• On multiple occasions she tried to cook using plastic bowls as pots. They melted like crayons all over the stove.

And the strangest of them all:

• She took a shit on a plate in her bedroom and put it in a drawer. The house keeper waited until I got home from school to show me.

I wish I was making some of this up.

Family Business

"In 1976 I could have bought a Toyota dealership for $60,000." This is a statement I've heard many times from my mother growing up. Other than the guaranteed free long distance phone calls that she would have made all day I can't see how this would have been a money maker. It is like someone giving me a full ride to medical school. Just because I got a deal isn't going to make me a good brain surgeon. John Stossel would have had a field day with that dealership. I can see him now busting Sybil for selling a fake undercoat job to a minority family.

Sybil was also offered a McDonald's franchise for similar money. I could have inherited both businesses after she burned them down.


Side Note - My father's business did burn down when it was doing poorly.

Actual Conversation

I just called Sybil and here is a breakdown of how the conversation went:

Barry - Hi, how are you?
Sybil - I just went to the Lexus dealer. Can you do me a favor?
Barry - Uhh what?
Sybil - Go online to the Lexus site and sign me up for a $75 gift card.
Barry - Uhh sure. Later. I'm driving.
Sybil - Well let me know when you are home so you can do it right away. It must happen today.
Barry - I will try to call you later.
Sybil - So I was just driving down Washington Blvd and I saw a naked 2 year old standing on the side of the street. I pulled over and tried to get him to come to my car. He wouldn't and I didn't know what house he came out of so I called the police.
Barry - I have to go. I will call you later.

The thought of Sybil screaming at a naked 2 year old to come to her car is amazing. As a parent it is totally what I would want to see going on if I looked out the window. I wonder if she waited for the police to arrive.

It's because you're chubby

There aren't many things to do when a parent comes to visit you from out of town. In my case, when Sybil comes to visit, we either argue or go out to eat, or in most cases do both. Because I always know there is going to be a scene I try to only take Sybil to restaurants that I have no problem never going back to again. This includes your Cheesecake Factories, your McCormick and Schmicks, and of course your Maggiano's. Basically I equate Sybil visiting me to a bad work trip where I only eat in chain restaurants. We have fought all over Southern California. There was the time I told her to save her money for a nursing home because I wouldn't be taking care of her when she argued about who was paying in Houston's. There was the time when I was five that my mother screamed at me in Charlie Brown's that I was going to marry a shiksa. I was five and just wanted to know if I could get dessert. I guess that one doesn't count as a visit but it was a chain restaurant.

Anyway one memorable story involves Sybil visiting and Maggaino's at the Grove. Lewis and I figured Sybil would like how the furnishing made it seem like we were in a true authentic Italian chain restaurant or home. And she could eat a trough of meatballs. Of course as soon as we got there, we had to hear the complaints. This table is too close to the bathroom, the prices are expensive, why are there so many black people here? You get the idea. So halfway through the meal, Sybil complains to the waitress that the restaurant is too cold and she wants the air conditioning turned down. The waitress responds by saying, I didn't notice it was cold but it could be that I've been running around. Sybil looks her up and down and says, "No, you aren't cold because you're chubby."

With that I crossed Maggaino's off the list.

Technical Difficulties

Sorry for no post today. My computer screen mysteriously cracked while talking to Sybil. It should be fixed by tomorrow.

Puerto Rican

This is a story I've blogged about before, but I would be doing Puerto Ricans everywhere a grave injustice if I didn't include it here. Back in the day when I was dating the girl who escorted Sybil to T.J. Maxx she used to occasionally sleep over. She lived about an hour away and since we were so in love she wanted to stay at my house despite the fact that I lived with Sybil and Lewis. In fact my brother once walked in on her topless and yet she still stayed. That's foolish college love for you. Anyway, when the girl in question would sleep over she would sleep in my bed. We were in college, super mature, and my bed was a full, so it just made sense. This happened many times and Sybil never asked where the girl was sleeping. She knew she was in my room, but never put much thought into what we were doing in there. That was until one morning she walked into my room and saw me and my girlfriend both asleep in the bed. She immediately turned around and went downstairs to our living room and screamed for me to come down as she needed to talk to me.

I went downstairs and Sybil screamed at the top of her lungs that she didn't approve of me sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend and that we weren't Puerto Rican. I'm not sure what the correlation between sleeping in bed with your girlfriend and being Puerto Rican is, but Sybil has been alive for a lot longer than me so I would assume she knows.

It was awesome when I went back upstairs and my girlfriend said to me, "Did your mom just call me Puerto Rican? I'm a Jew from the North Shore."