Pedro's Birthday

My second family is Cuban. I’m living a sitcom, “The Cubans and the WASP.”

So the Padre had a birthday the other day. He’s eighty-something. I normally just bring a bottle of wine and a card because I’m not terribly good at choosing gifts. One Christmas I went to Barnes and Noble and bought a book of classic stories that were all in Spanish. I knew Pedro and Sylvia liked to read. How was I to know that it was children’s stories for God’s sake?     I flunked Spanish!

Still, they were gracious about it.

Last Christmas I did a little better. They are theater aficionados. I bought them a really nice collection of songs from Broadway musicals. They liked it. But their CD player doesn’t work.

My girlfriend, who belongs to these people, lives in New York. When she comes here to visit her folks they drag me along to wherever they’re going for dinner. Sometimes we have dinner at their house. The food’s always good and the dynamics are even better. I won’t go into the intricacies of a complicated, passionate, if slightly dysfunctional, familial relationship. Let’s just say that a WASP family is not so…well…transparent.

One of the places we like to go is Bon Appetite in Dunedin. Vivian manages to schmooze with everyone at her favorite eateries even though she’s only in town three of four times a year. Faces light up with recognition when she walks in. She has the same effect at Brady’s BBQ. I, on the other hand, can go to a restaurant over and over again and NO one remembers me. I think that’s a good thing actually, for a variety of reasons.

Saturday was the day after Pedro’s birthday and I was invited to the casa where we would gather for a little hora contento before dinner. I wanted to bring something besides a card and a bottle of cheap wine. What do you give a man who hasn’t been in good health and spends most of his time in his room watching sports on TV? I had an idea to get one of those basketball hoops that you hang on a closet-door and throw a little basketball into it. My favorite quote is from Flannery O’Connor. “Never second-guess inspiration.” I bought one.

On the way to the party I was sure I’d made another ridiculous choice in gifts. What the hell was I thinking???

Que lastima!
Was I ever WRONG. Pedro Sr., Pedro Jr., and Raul surrounded that thing like a lions around a dead zebra. It was out of the box in no time flat. Raul assembled the hoop and backboard. (I know it has a special sports-type name, but I can only think of backboard.) And Pedro Jr. pumped air into the ball. Padre was waiting anxiously to play. He had a look in his eyes that reminded me of my cat when I crack open a can of Fancy Feast. The din in the room was incredible. I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, but I had the definite impression it was a successful gift. The cameras came out. Someone whistled Sweet Georgia Brown. Padre made some shots narrowly missing the pottery from Santa Fey. He had to pose mid-toss for the camera numerous times. I don’t think Sylvia was terribly pleased that the boys decided to set up court in her living room. I caught her eye and mouthed lo siento.


Then he became red in the face and had to sit down. He was totally out of breath. His oxygen wasn’t handy. It got quiet. Great, I thought. Now I’ve killed him. That’s really going to put a damper on dinner.

But he survived to enjoy a hearty Osso Bucco of Pork Garni with a Chocolate Mousse to finish.