2/1/98
The
Daily Yack
I
didnג€™t eavesdrop. I
overheard...
"Allo?"
"Is that
you?"
"Yeah. I've
got a few minutes. You
busy?
"Just doing
my nails. So what's
new?"
"The usual."
"Mm-hm."
"The kids?"
"Driving
me up a wall. They never
listen, they think they
know everything and
if I don't buy, buy,
buy I'm a rotten mother.
I don't know why I bother."
"Mm-hm."
"Hold on
a sec. Dear, would
you get the door? I'm
on the phone. You
still there? Probably
that door-to-door Arab
lady selling figs."
"I never
buy from them. Who knows
if one day she's going
to decide to poison
the Jews. And why should
I support her if her
son's maybe a terrorist?"
"Mm-hm."
"They're
jealous of us, you know.
They -- oh, for chrissakes;
no, you can't watch
TV now, you're going
to school in a few minutes.
Did you clean up from
breakfast yet? I don't
want you leaving me
a mess; is anybody listening
to me? Turn off that
TV now! If you have
nothing to do take the
dog for a walk and while
you're out drop by the
makolet and pick up
some bread and tuna
or there'll be nothing
for lunch. And don't
slam the -- alright,
who slammed the door?
Bloody kids. Are you
still there?"
"Mm-hm."
"Bloody
kids."
"I don't
know why we put up with
this. Did you hear a
weather report?"
"Hot."
"Again?"
"They said
it might get better
by the weekend. For
all I care it could
snow, we're going to
the in-laws for Shabbat.
I'd rather have an operation
than go there again.
That stupid mother of
his thinks I'm ruining
the children because
I'm not religious enough.
I'm not a Jew if I don't
put up a picture of
her favorite rabbi in
every room; I'm no good
because I don't protect
them from the evil eye.
You ever hear such a
thing? But God forbid
he should stand up for
me."
"Mm-hm.
You going to Turkey
for the holidays?"
"I suppose.
You?"
"The way
they treated me last
time I'd be crazy. They're
not much better than
the Egyptians, you know,
they hate us too. After
all we've done for them."
"The more
peace we get the more
antisemites we're exposed
to. That's what my husband
says. He says do we
have to give back the
Golan just so we can
go shopping in Damascus?"
"I hear
the prices are good
in Damascus."
"Mm-hm."
"How
the hell can I hear
you? I'm on the phone.
Sorry. Wait a minute,
the idiot's taking a
shower and he forgot
a towel. Stop yelling,
I said I'm coming. You
hear how he talks to
me?"
"When my
husband talks like that
he goes without sex
for a week. I don't
threaten him, but I
think he understands.
The women he works with
figured it out, they
always know when I'm
punishing him, because
he gets, you know, aggravated
for no reason. Men!
You can see right through
them. If he's having
an affair I really don't
know, but I'll kill
him, that son of a bitch,
all I need is to hear
from someone and it's
over. They say you can't
catch a Jewish husband
cheating. Huh. If he
is fooling around I
know for sure it's Mondays
because that's when
he puts on clean socks.
I'll bet you didn't
know I had a lover once.
He was the cashier in
the hospital cafeteria
where my husband had
his prostate fixed.
Sure I felt guilty,
wouldn't you? To tell
you the truth, he wasn't
really a lover in the
strictest sense because
he only took me out
to dinner and we talked
about having sex but
-- are you there?"
" "
"Allo?"
" "
"ALLO!"
"I'm here,
I'm here. I told you
I had to go fetch a
towel. So where were
we? Ah yes, pictures
of the rabbi and you
said you're not going
to Turkey this year,
or you said you are.
Did I tell you I quit
smoking?"
"Mm-hm."
"So what
else is happening?"
"I'm baking."
"Mm-hm."
"I haven't
baked in years. Don't
ask me why I'm suddenly
baking now."
"So why
are you --"
"Because
my mother-in-law tells
my husband I'm lazy
if I buy a cake in the
store, that's why, and
I really don't know
what to answer because
I think he takes
her side. What do you
say to an old woman
who raised nine kids
with a husband who was
a shoemaker's assistant
and they always had
clean clothes and a
hot meal? I have to
feel inadequate because
I can't cope with two
and more money than
I know what to do with?
It's not fair."
"When you're
a mother-in-law I won't
remind you of this conversation."
"You're
not a big help."
"My father
knew how to deal with
people like that. He
used to say he would
read the riot act between
the lines to any dyed-in-the-mud
stick-in-the-wool who
crossed the light at
the end of his path
until they put two by
four together and realize
the bark is on the wrong
tree."
"He really
said that?"
"He was
a brilliant man."
"Mm-hm.
My father was a communist."
"You have
to give a lot of credit
to the Russian people
for voting in a man
with a splotch on his
head. No, I don't
know where your toenail
clippers are, try the
back of the freezer
on the left side. Because
I needed something to
clamp on the frozen
peas. Bograshov
was his name, wasn't
it?"
"Gorbachev."
"Right,
I always get them mixed
up."
"Bograshov
is the one that goes
to the beach, near the
Sheraton."
"Right."
"So did
you hear the news?"
"I'd rather
not know. Too depressing.
My kids know more about
what's going on than
I do. If you ask me,
I'm all for peace if
it means everybody has
to live in their own
country. The Israelis
in Israel, the Palestinians
in Palestine, the Russians
in Russia. And I think
if we put all the settlers
on the Golan nobody
would care if we gave
the Golan back to Syria,
that's my solution."
"No, I mean
the news about Tzippi.
I thought everyone knew,
though I don't think
she knows everyone knows
because she still has
the nerve to show her
face. But everyone's
talking about it. You
mean you haven't heard?"
"No. Uh
-- do you know who you're
talking to?"
"You're
not Sima?"
"No. I'm
Tzippi."
"Oh my God."
"Then you're
not Sima either. I thought
you were --"
"I'm Miri.
I can't believe... yes,
dear, right away!
Gotta go, my husband
needs the phone. It's
an emergency."
"Mm-hm."
(Click)
"Allo, Sima?..."