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THE PRISM Powered By Docstoc

            Ed Friedman
            501 Riverdale Ave. #5L
            Yonkers, NY 10705

            May 2006

Bill, 57, Irish-American

Doris, 35, African-American

Ricardo, 45, Puerto Rican

Abel, 28, Haitian

Gloria, 48, Italian-American

Sarah, 85, Eastern European, Jewish

June, 45, Chinese


PLACE: Various

NOTE: This play can be performed with: a) one actor for each role; b) as a tour de force for an
exceptional actor playing all roles. In this instance, creative changes in costume and headwear
would be employed; c) one actor playing Bill and another actor playing the rest of the roles, or d)
some other combination that works. With option a) the prologue should be used.

NOTE: Elipses ….. Most often indicate a question, or sometimes a comment from a character
                                     PROLOGUE (optional)

                                      BILL (in spotlight or special)

It‟s some ancient Irish tradition that single daughters are supposed to stick by their mothers

unless they get married. Apparently this is the only exception to the “I don‟t need anybody‟s

help” rule.

                (cross fade to DORIS in spotlight or special)

I had an old man in my office the other day who refused to see one more doctor. He sat right in

front of me and said, “I have never been treated with so much disrespect.

               (cross fade to RICARDO on a cel phone holding a golf club also in spot)

You‟re exaggerating. Just figure it out….I can‟t, I‟m in the middle of something (hangs up)…..

No, my mother is fine. It‟s just that every time she gets a headache my sister decides it‟s a brain


               (cross fade to ABEL in spotlight or special)

I hate dese old people! It bugs me dat dey are so ungrateful for what they have-and so rude…you

know what I mean?.

               (cross fade to GLORIA in spotlight or special)

She has to go to the doctor, I take her. She needs shopping, I do it. She wants to visit somebody,

go to a wedding, go to a funeral, its me, me and me.

               (cross fade to JUNE in spotlight or special)

We would have to take them away from their friends into a place where no one speaks

Chinese….How do I know? I‟ve been a pharmaceutical rep for fifteen years and I‟ve never seen

an Asian in a nursing home

              (cross fade to SARAH on the phone in spotlight or special)

Why don‟t you just change the message to say “I‟m too busy to talk to my mother? ….yes, you

always call me back-eventually

(Fade to black)

(In the dark we hear ambient “bar noise” (glasses gathered, voices, faint hum of television as
lights come up on Bill, 57, seated on a bar stool. He is wearing a UPS uniform)

I don‟t know what I‟m gonna do. Most of my friends, their parents call them for every little,

stinkin problem. Or, their parents want to move in with them, or they won‟t take help from

anybody except their kids. My mother would drop dead before she would let me help her.

…….what‟s the problem? The problem is that she‟s getting older, and I know she‟s not feelin

good but she won‟t say shit about it. It‟s makin me nuts. A month ago she falls in the kitchen.

She manages to crawl to the phone, call 911 and they take her to the hospital. She never friggin

called me. I wouldn‟t have even found out about it except the hospital called. I get there and they

tell me she‟s havin x-rays.

(Lights out on Bill, up on Abel, 28, x-ray technician, Haitian. He is dressed in scrubs. He is in a
small examining room, looking at x-rays, and making notes on a clipboard. He has other
“business” during the monologue in getting the room ready for the next patient)



know what I mean? Dis white lady dat was just here: she started complaining as soon as she walk

in the door. I‟m just doing my job, trying to get her x-rays done and the son comes rushing in.

The poor man surely left his job and rush here to be wit his mother. But all she could say was

“where were you? I‟ve been alone in this hospital for hours”. This was not true and nothing he

say calm her down. Every time the son say, “Don‟t worry, so and so is going to come and help

you out.” the mother say “Oh she won‟t do anything.” They went on and on like this:

(as the Son): Mama , we‟ll get cousin Agnes to come in

(as the Mother): She‟s filthy. I don‟t want her in my house. Do you see how she lives?

(as the Son): OK Mama, I‟m sure Kathleen would be happy to help you

(as the Mother): Your wife? Don‟t make me laugh, she hates me. She‟ll poison me

(as the Son): You know what Ma, we‟ll hire someone to come in and help you

as (the Mother): It‟s much too expensive.

(as the Son): Don‟t worry Ma I‟ll pay for it.

(as the Mother): Oh no, I don‟t want no strangers in my house.

(as the Son): I don‟t know what you want me to do

(as the Mother) Don‟t do anything, leave me here to die.

(as the Son): Ma, you‟ll be fine, you‟re not gonna die

(as the Mother): You just want me to go into a nursing home so you can be rid of me.

All this time I‟m trying to stay out of dis, you know what I mean? but I‟m stuck with dem in dis

small room. They acting like I‟m not dere, and I don‟t pay dem no mind. But I look at the son

and he look like somebody beat him. I say to him he need to leave so I can take x-rays. He

cannot get out fast enough. He tell his Mother he got to make a phone call and he‟ll come right

back. She shoo him away like to say “go and don‟t come back.” OK, so I‟m wit dis woman now.

Wit most patients I try to, you know, make conversation, because dey usually nervous about

what dey might have. Know what I mean? Cause wit everything from a broken bone to a tumor

the doctor say, “we won‟t know until we see the x-ray.” I try to make conversation to relax dem.

If dey respond it takes deir mind off of what‟s going on. So I‟ll look at the chart and say to dem,

“Oh you have Dr. Smith. He‟s the best surgeon in the hospital. My sister went to him and he was

great.” This woman here I say to her, “Oh it‟s so good your son‟s here to look after you, you‟re

very lucky.” But she say nothing. So I just say, “turn on your left side please, turn on your right

side please.” When it look like she have trouble moving I try to help. When I touch her she

almost jump off the table. I know what it is. It‟s the shock of a black man touching dem. I seen it

alot. It don bother me no more (it does). Eventually she move how I tell her but she don‟t look at

   me. She just look mad. Annoyed at me. You know what I mean? Americans have no idea how

  lucky dey are. This one here has all kinds of insurance, she can go to specialists, her family can

pay for whatever she need. It can be very frustrating for the children, but sometimes they‟re more

     trouble than the parents. Yesterday this white man come in just when I get his mother on the

   table. He is in a panic. I say to him, ”Sir, she‟ll be fine, it looks like just a bruise.” The mother

say to him, “I‟m all right, really.” The son just refuse to calm down. “Why didn‟t you let me help

   you? You see what happens? What if you hit your head?” The mother finally say, “please son,

   you need to go so the man can take the x-rays.” “Do you need anything?” he say. “Why don‟t

 you find me some water for when I‟m done here” she tell him. So he goes out and I‟m thinking,

  thank the Lord, I thought I was going to have to strap him down. She look at me and say, “well

  that‟ll keep him busy for a minute.” I wanted to tell the son,”you are a lucky man, she can take

   care of herself so why don‟t you let her?” When my grann Clara come to the states from Haiti

   she had no English to talk to the doctors. Dey would say “Ma‟am I can‟t help you if you don‟t

  tell me what‟s wrong.” She used to point to where it would hurt and dey give her pills. She was

    to afraid to ask questions and no one took the trouble to ask her, “what is your diet?” or “how

  much water are you drinking?” When she could find someone in the hospital that speak Creole

  she got to tell some bookkeeper or clerk that she was constipated or had pain when she urinate.

Grann don‟ like to talk about dese tings. So she don‟t go to no doctor and she get sick. You know

 what I mean? The only ting that help her is the remedies from Haiti. When I finally get her to go

    back and she talk to the doctor he say “stop doing that its no good for you” and they give her

   some more pills. But the pills don‟ do noting, so she trow dem out and go back to her potions.

(conspiratorial) I know I could get in trouble but sometime I have a patient and I just know dey

think dey can get no help here. Their expression say “I‟m doing this but I don‟t know why.” So I

ask “where you from?” “Trinidad”, dey say, or “Puerto Rico”, or “Albania.” Dey tell me about

Voodoo, or Santeria, or the saints dey pray to. Dey tell me “the doctors say cut this out,” or “my

children say I‟m crazy”. I tell dem, (conspiratorial) I tell dem about the hounfo in Crown

Heights, where the houngan will bring out the good spirits; and the Botanica on Fox Street where

dey can get a statue of Lazarus who has the power over illness, or Mr. Lee on Mott Street. Mr.

Lee will give you anything from acupuncture to Chinese herbs. Dey always smile when I do this.

I don‟t know if dey go or not but I can tell that dey feel better dat somebody understands them

and don‟t think dey crazy. And I feel better. You know what I mean? Last week I had an old

Haitian man in here whose English was very poor. He look sad and very alone. I say to him

“Kouman ou ye?” He was surprised to hear his language. So I ask him in Creole, “Sir would you

like me to be around when the doctor come to see you?”. He look so relieved. He say, “wi,

mesi.” (pause) My Grann in Miami now. She 85 but she still walk to the market. She say the

mango is much fresher than in New York. The weather is so much better for her health, and

where she lives there are many people from Haiti, so she speak Creole, and she happy… and she

live near the ocean which remind her of where she grew up in Saint-Marc. When I visit dere, I go

to the doctor wit her to make sure she‟s sayin what‟s wrong and dat she don‟t get no run around.

The last time I go wit her, the doctor give her some medication for her blood pressure, so I ask

him, “what are the side effects of dis?” And he look at me like I got some nerve askin him. And

he don‟t answer me. I say “excuse me,” and he cut me off. “Are you a doctor?” he say. “No,” I

say, “but I‟m a reasonably intelligent person who understand enough to know it‟s rude not to

answer a reasonable question.” Grann understand enough to know something is wrong. “Trankil,

souple” she say to me. Basically she want me to shut up and not argue wit the doctor, arrogant

bastard dat he is. She is worried cause she tinks I offended someone in autority. So he tell me

“some people experience dizziness, or nausea, but I don‟t think it will happen with your

grandmother.” First thing I thought was, “you couldn‟t have told her dis?” And then I thought “I

got to get her another doctor before I go home.” But I don‟t want to upset my Grann so I just

explain to her what the doctor say and tell her in Creole, “if you start to feel any of dese tings call

me right away and I‟ll talk to the doctor.” He didn‟t know what I said but he understood. Know

what I mean? (Cross fade back to Bill at the bar. As before)


I said, “Mom, why didn‟t you call me?” She says, “you were at work, I didn‟t want to bother

you.” ”But you know I would have come right away,” I said. “I know,” she said. “But what

would you have done?” “Well, I would have called an ambulance….” She just looked at me-the

kind of look that comes without words but tells you just how little you‟re needed. The only thing

she was really upset about was that it gave the neighbors something about her personal business

to talk about. She‟s got this thing about privacy but (pause) I don‟t know, its more that she

doesn‟t want anybody to think she‟s weak. And the other thing is “you don‟t burden your kids.”

That‟s her other big thing. Which is great except she‟s 80 and I‟m goin crazy worryin about the

next time she falls. What if she can‟t make it to the phone? ……My sisters?

(Lights out on Bill. Television sounds fade replaced by the sounds of plates and silverware on
tables. Lights up on Gloria, 48, Italian-American. She is a waitress sitting at a booth in a diner on
E.187th Street. She is dressed in black slacks, white shirt and black vest. She is at a booth, with
ketchup bottles around her. She is emptying half empty bottles into other half empty bottles. She
is talking to another waitress (unseen) sitting opposite her)


(her eyes trailing someone walking by her) You see that? That guy with the old lady? That‟s his

mother. They‟re in here three times a week. Sometimes he just comes in by himself to get her

some cheesecake. Ya know what it would take to get one of my brothers to do something for my

mother? She‟d have to be held hostage by terrorists. I‟m not kidding. Nine brothers, none of

them do squat. She has to go to the doctor, I take her. She needs shopping, I do it. She wants to

visit somebody, go to a wedding, go to a funeral, its me, me and me. I don‟t mind, but come on. I

wouldn‟t mind if I had a couple of sisters but its just me. Plus cause I‟m divorced and got no

kids, the sky‟s the limit (pause) If that asshole I married would kept it in his pants I woulda

already been livin upstate twenty years. Instead I‟m still livin in my mother‟s building. I swear if

it wasn‟t rent controlled I‟d be outta there. This is what I mean: her friend‟s granddaughter was

getting married in Brooklyn. My Mother just wanted to go to the church. I was planning to get

my hair done that day. I hadn‟t done it in about two months so I say to her, “Ma, I‟m kinda busy,

do you think one of the boys can take you?” Who? she says. “Who? How about Anthony,

Emilio, Vincent,” I start goin down the list. She goes, “they‟re busy with their families.” I don‟t

even get into that that‟s a crock of shit, so I say, “what about John?” “He‟s got a girlfriend.”

“What about Danny?” “Oh Danny works so hard.” So I say. “are you kiddin me Ma, I‟m on my

feet sixty hours a week.” Know what she says? “Forget it I‟ll stay home.”.....What‟d I do? Look

at my hair, wadda think I did? Ya know all that stuff about Jewish guilt. My mother could teach

them, lemme tell ya. Ya know why she‟s like this dontcha? You wouldn‟t get this you‟re not

Italian. In Italian families the sons don‟t do nothing, they‟re all princes. The daughters got to do

everything. That‟s the way she was raised. That‟s the way they were all raised around here.

When my grandmother got married she had no say. Her father said, “see that guy, he‟s gonna be

your husband.” And that was that. When the family went to my grandparents for dinner the

women would be running around cooking and serving and making sure the men had everything.

The wives were like slaves. When the men were finished then they could eat. And these women,

when their husbands died they‟d dress in black-I mean forever, no matter how old they were

when their husbands died. (She laughs at what she‟s about to remember) When I was young I

thought the women who wore black were letting the men know they were available. I‟m not

kidding. (beat) And nothing ever changes. About two weeks ago I‟m in my mother‟s apartment.

I‟m ironing, right? Who comes in? my brother Vincent. You woulda thought he just came back

from the war. He runs a goddam exterminating business in Bellmore. But he‟s like the

waddayacall, prodigal son. Shit they‟re all the prodigal son. And guess who has to wait on

him.….Good guess. Before he has his coat off my mother goes. “Gloria make some coffee, make

Vincent a sangwich.” And you know if I didn‟t do it he‟d sit there and let her wait on him. So

not to make my mother do it I‟m makin the coffee, makin the sandwich. Him? He just sits on his

ass like a king, eatin an drinkin. God forbid he brings her something. How do you get raised in

an Italian family and come over somebody‟s house empty handed? Ya think he asks her how

she‟s feeling? Not that she‟d complain to him, that she saves for me. Or ya think he‟d say to me,

“I know this is all on you, can you use any help?” Nah. He just leaves after an hour and I gotta

watch this pathetic scene:

“Vincent, come next week with Rosemarie and the kids.”

“I‟ll try Ma. But the kids have so much goin on with school, and homework, and soccer.

Rosemaries‟ got her hands full with the house and the kids…”

I know he‟s not comin back any time soon, but I see her slip him two tens and she says,

”Here,for the kids”

“Thanks, Ma, they‟ll give you a call.”

They don‟t call. They could give a shit. You know when they see her? Once a year, Christmas.

Each year one of the sister in laws gets stuck makin dinner. Thank god they all have houses and

I‟m still in an apartment or I‟d be doin that too. So this past Christmas it‟s Anthony and Donna‟s

turn. Of course, I take my mother. They‟re all seein that she can‟t make it from the dinner table

to the bathroom without help, but all they say is „Gee doesn‟t Mom look great.” They don‟t pick

up that she hears like every fifth word they‟re sayin. And she won‟t let them know she can‟t

hear. But between the pasta and the roast beef she‟ll grab my arm and like sneakily try to

whisper “Who are they talking about?”……What? Please, the wives are as bad as my brothers.

Last time we were at Emilio‟s I grabbed his wife Lorraine to the side. I want her to try to get my

brother to do the right thing, right? So I say to her, “Lorraine, ya know Mom‟s not doin so good.

It would be nice if you guys came by, ya know for a visit, bring the kids.” So she says to me,

“Oh sure, but you know we‟ve been so busy. And ya know its not like she‟s on death‟s door,

she‟ll be around for a long time.” And I‟m thinking, “she‟s eighty-six, what do you consider a

long time?” So I try Victoria, Joey‟s wife and I‟m tryin to be honest. I say “Vicki, I‟m really

getting worn down with Ma and work, and I‟m just havin trouble takin care of her. So I thought

maybe you could talk to the other girls and come over once in a while to help take care of her.”

So she goes, “Ya know whose upstate, (by the way they consider Westchester upstate) whose

out on the island, and lets face it Glo, nobody can take care of her like you. You know what she

likes, what she needs. She don‟t want us there. Besides, I‟ll tell ya, she looks like she‟s doin OK.

Maybe you just need some vitamins.” So I go “why don‟t you take this vitamin, my foot up your

ass.”…..No, but I wanted to. I was just so pissed. So I grab Anthony in between football games,

and I go, “Listen I can‟t manage her anymore, I‟m gonna look for a nursing home.” He looks at

me like I‟m speakin‟ Martian. I tell him that I can‟t take care of her by myself, and he goes,

“Wadda ya talking about, she‟s fine.”I say, “She can‟t be by herself anymore. I‟m nervous when

I leave to go to work. When I‟m home she don‟t want me to go out. I‟m gonna bring somebody

in.” “Fuggedaboutit, he goes,”they‟re all moolinyam. She dont want one in her house, and I don‟t

want one neither. Why don‟t you just move into her apartment? You‟ll be right there and you‟ll

save on rent.” I just fuckin lost it. “Are you listenin to me,” I tell him. “I have no life, I have no

energy, and she needs more help. So she‟s goin into a nursing home. You can ignore her there

the same way you do now.” So now he‟s getting crazy, turning red. “You listen to me. My

mother‟s not goin into a fuckin nursing home and that‟s that.” And he leaves. And I realize, I‟m

screwed, I‟m just screwed. Sometimes when my Mother makes me so mad I could spit nails, I

imagine packin up all her stuff without her knowin, puttin it in the trunk and say, “Mom we‟re

goin to Vincent‟s.” I‟d drive up there, ring the bell and when they‟d open the door, I‟d say,

“she‟s all yours, good luck.” I‟d get back in the car and keep driving till I got to Florida. I could

never really do that, but I‟m standin there in my brother‟s den, hearin all the voices upstairs and

thinking I can‟t be here another minute. So I grab my coat, get in the car and go….Seriously. I

didn‟t say good bye to nobody, I didn‟t even say anything to my Mother. I just went home. They

called my house, yellin into my machine, “how could you leave your mother here?” Stuff like

that. I knew eventually one of them would bring her home. (pause) I could never leave my

Mother. I used to be mad at my her for bein the way she is. Then I got even more pissed at my

brothers. Now I‟m thinking, maybe this is my own fault. I‟ve been goin along with this for

years. How the hell did this happen? (Gloria looks at her “friend” as lights and sound fade.

Return to Bill as before)


Here‟s the thing: when Lorraine got married and moved away Mom was fine. When Donna

decided she was tired of the Bronx and wanted something different, she moved to Florida. When

she found out what Donna was doing, my mother got pissed at her. Not that she would say

anything to Donna, but she let everybody know what a horrible decision it was for her to leave

the Bronx knowing Donna would get the message. My Mother would never say she didn‟t want

Donna to go. Only that Donna “wasn‟t ready,” or” how hard it is for single girls out on their

own.” It‟s some ancient Irish tradition that single daughters are supposed to stick by their


anybody‟s help” rule.

(Lights out on Bill, up on June, 45, Chinese-American. She is sitting on a couch or a wing chair.
There is an end table holding a lamp and a box of tissues. On the wall behind her is an art poster)


How am I? I‟ve been upset about this for three days. It was all I could do to wait until today to

talk to you about it….. Ward and I had a big fight…..My parents…..I know. All the time I‟m

coming here you‟d think the subject of my parents would have come up a lot more….They‟re

starting to have some problems. My mom has a very bad breathing condition, and my dad has a

heart problem, so I want them to live with us so that I can look after them and Ward is

completely against it….He feels we can find them an assisted living facility where they can get

the care they need….Because that‟s what he did with his parents but it‟s different……His

parents have a lot of money and they‟re in perfect health. They just decided they don‟t want to

manage a house or help, so they decided to move into one of these high end places that looks like

a hotel. You should see this place. In a way I don‟t blame them for wanting to live there, it‟s

beautiful. The people who live there are all in good condition. Some of them, like Ward‟s parents

still drive. The point is, my husbands parents have relocated but they still get to maintain their

quality of life. They go out when they want. They do everything they did before. It‟s great for

them. My folks aren‟t able to do that. They‟re not poor, but they couldn‟t afford to move to one

of those places and we can‟t afford to subsidize them, not that I think Ward would do it….Yes

there are cheaper places but they‟re so depressing. Everyone is sitting around doing nothing and

most of the people their need a lot of assistance. If my folks went to a place like that they would

be prisoners. None of these places are close to where we live so it would be hard to visit them.

And even if we could, what would their life be like? I‟ve been to these places. Everyone is given

drugs, and my parents have never been completely comfortable with Western medicine, and

frankly, given what I know I can‟t say I blame them….The drug companies put more and more

pills on the market they all have side affects which are either not known or the patients aren‟t

told about. And when the companies test these drugs they rarely have Asians in the sample, and

in some cases different groups respond differently to certain medications. My parents still fall

back on Chinese medicine and only see a Western doctor if they see no other way. And I can tell

you this attitude would not be popular in one of those places. Besides, we would have to take

them away from their friends into a place where no one speaks Chinese….How do I know? I‟ve

been a pharmaceutical rep for fifteen years and I‟ve never seen an Asian in a nursing home.

See this is what I can‟t get Ward to understand, maybe it‟s because his family is wealthy and

looks like it comes out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and we came here thirty years ago with

nothing. When his parents announced that they were selling the family home, there was no

discussion, We‟re in the middle of dinner in this beautiful dining room talking about, I don‟t

know, nothing, and my father-in-law says, “By the way you should look through the house and

see if there‟s anything you want. We‟re going to move into Willow Towers. I‟ll call your brother

but you‟re the oldest so you get first crack.” Ward‟s only response was, “Thanks Dad, that‟s nice

of you. I hear that‟s a first rate place.” It was just this dispassionate exchange. Nothing said about

the idea that Ward and I take over the house and the responsibilities so that they could stay there,

God knows there‟s enough room. There was nothing about the fact that they‟re moving further

away from their son. And it didn‟t seem to faze Ward in the least. It just sounded so strange to

me. I‟ve always expected to care for my parents when they got older. I don‟t see it as a burden or

anything, it was something I just took for granted. The funny thing is that for most of my

American friends it‟s the daughters who take care of their parents, and in the Chinese culture it‟s

the son‟s place. In my case I have no brothers and I‟m the eldest so it‟s up to me, but that‟s okay,

I don‟t mind. I guess I didn‟t understand the reaction of my in-laws because my parents would

feel awful if I didn‟t offer to take care of them or suggested they go someplace and have

strangers take care of them. They would feel like they failed as parents, and how could I do that

to them? They struggled and deprived themselves so my sister and I could get a good education.

They watched me get married and divorced and married again. I didn‟t come home after my first

marriage broke up, but I think they were okay with that because I was already out of the house.

When I try to talk to Ward about this he takes great pride in saying “My parents refuse to burden

their children with the responsibility of caregiving.” Intellectually, I understand that. It‟s that

American “independence at any cost” mentality. You know I started to think that I was weird for

feeling so strongly about this. But a couple of weeks ago I got into a conversation-this is going to

sound odd-with our UPS guy. We‟ve had the same one for about five years and after a few years

you start making small talk and get to know things about each other. It turns out, his mother is

alone and starting to have some health problems. He‟s concerned and wants to help her. But

she‟s so committed to being independent she won‟t let him do anything. And it‟s making him

crazy. (considering) I wonder how I‟d feel if my parents were resistant to my help? Maybe I‟d

have an easier time letting this go. But I doubt it. I just think it‟s in our DNA. It‟s certainly not in

my husband‟s. (pause) You know when I first met Ward‟s parents I was so happy to find that

they were polite, refined people, not like the stereotype of overbearing Americans. But as I got to

know them I saw the distance between them and their children went beyond respectfulness.

There were no expressions of emotion or affection and it seemed like that‟s what was expected.

When the family gets together the dinners are very quiet, kind of impersonal, and short. The

children are never present. It‟s like being at a cocktail party where all you have time for is

superficial conversation. After dinner, Ward, his brother and his Dad go to the billiard room and

smoke cigars. It‟s all such a cliché I can‟t even believe it. The women go into the library where

Ward‟s mother politely listens to us talk about our own children but generally she‟ll redirect the

conversation by asking something like “Are you still thinking of redoing your bedroom?” I know

that my friends would say, “thank God your in-laws aren‟t imposing themselves on you.” But

whenever we left there I always felt a certain coldness. My parents aren‟t overly demonstrative,

but they‟re always glad to see us and they always express their appreciation for us spending time

with them.

…..Ward? He‟s very polite. I thought he was growing to enjoy my family but if I have to be

honest he‟s been, well, tolerant. He‟s probably been very uncomfortable. When my whole family

is together, there‟s a lot of joy, a lot of excitement, talking. We play games. The older aunts and

uncles area big part of all family get togethers. We honor them, include them and ask for their

wisdom. I know the next generation doesn‟t appreciate this and it makes me sad. I think they‟ll

miss something valuable. If we don‟t learn about what makes us special, all of us, pieces of us

will just slip away until we‟re, I don‟t know, all the same. (pause)

It‟s funny but when Ward and I got married we talked very little about our parents. Well, we

spoke about the obvious cultural differences. We had our Asian-WASP version of “Bridget

Loves Bernie.” It was all very cute, and all very superficial. We managed to create this neutral

world that kind of sanded off the edges of our differences and let us live in the professional

world we had in common. Our friends were basically people we knew from our jobs. We all had

the same goal of “advancing our lives.” So when we talked about getting married we talked

about the usual things: where we‟re going to live, our professional futures, kids. I try to get our

kids to appreciate my parents, but they‟re so American, I don‟t know if any of it is sinking in.

They‟re respectful to my parents and the rest of the family, but they have their own very different

lives. They see us with both sets of parents and I wonder what message they‟re really getting

from us. Ward and I never talked about how we felt about our parent‟s futures and what impact it

would have on our lives. He doesn‟t understand why I won‟t send my parents to a home. His

attitude is, “They had their life. They did the best they could. They‟ll be fine. You have to have

your life.” I can‟t tell him how to feel about his own parents, but he‟s not going to separate me

from mine. Now that this issue has come up I‟m looking at him and I feel like I never knew him.

It‟s like he thinks that after a certain age people are disposable, like they have no value. I know I

have to find a way to resolve this because I‟m spending so much time thinking about it, its hard

to focus on anything else. But also there‟s a voice in the back of head that‟s asking me “What

happens when YOU get old? What happens if YOU get sick?” I always thought I knew the

answers, but now I‟m not so sure.

(Fade out on June. Lights up onRicardo, a 45 year old M.D., Puerto Rican. He is on a golf course
on a sunny Wednesday afternoon in suburban New Jersey. He is playing with an unseen
colleague and behind a foursome.)


(finishing a cel phone conversation) You‟re exaggerating….Just figure it out….I can‟t, I‟m in the

middle of something….Carmen, I can‟t talk to you now (he shuts down the phone) Sorry about

that….my sister….No, everything‟s ok, she „s on my back about our mother….No, my mother is

fine. It‟s just that every time she gets a headache my sister decides it‟s a brain tumor….yeah, I

have patients like that too. I told her I‟ll pay for her to go to medical school if she‟ll leave me

alone. The problem for me is that my mother isn‟t in as bad shape as my sister thinks. I said to

her, “Carmen, if Mom can still make arroz con pollo she‟s doing fine”….chicken and rice. I

know she‟s getting old, but you see my sister feels that somebody needs to be with my mother all

the time, and because I‟m always busy it‟s mostly on her and she‟s starting to resent it. So her

answer, rather than deal with her own guilt, is making me feel guilty so I‟ll spend more time with

my mother. She doesn‟t seem to understand that I have patients, rounds, emergencies; I don‟t

punch a clock like she does. (looking off left) Is it my imagination or are those guys playing in

slow motion?....My Mom?, she‟s getting up there, but she‟s doing pretty well. She forgets things

occasionally, but who doesn‟t? Anyway, it‟s to be expected at her age. You know what it is, she

misses the attention. After my father died it was tough for her. The few friends they had either

moved away, died, or went back to Puerto Rico. My sister works so my Mom is by herself alot.

Back in P.R. the family stayed put. Where I‟m from, Arecibo, cousins, friends, everybody came

around to help. The old people back there depended on that. Even when we came here, there

were two or three generations in the same place, but it was what we had to do then. We all had so

little, we just pooled what we had and we managed. And it‟s a good thing because when I was

going to school I didn‟t have to work. My father had to drop out at fifteen. But when I was young

and my cousins would be out working, my parents, aunts, uncles would always say, “Ricky,

don‟t worry , you need to stay home and study.” Now families are spread out, kids move away,

wives all have to work, it‟s a different environment. I tried explaining all this to my mother but

she doesn‟t get it. Of course they don‟t have the kind of health care or after care that we have.

Here I can pick up a phone and have a home attendant at my mother‟s house today…..Why don‟t

I? She doesn‟t want it. And truthfully, I don‟t think she‟s having that hard a time. She never asks

me to do anything.….It‟s true. My sister says that‟s because in P.R its all up to the daughters, or

daughters-in-law …. I guess that‟s true. Come to think of it all the people who looked after my

grandmother in Puerto Rico were women. It‟s funny because when I think about it now, after I

became a teenager I wasn‟t close with my mother. No, that‟s not right. It wasn‟t like we weren‟t

close. It was more like she wanted to get obstacles out of my way so I could have what I wanted.

And I busted my ass getting scholarships, doing work-study, or I would never have made it to

college, never mind med school. My folks couldn‟t pay the freight-unlike a lot of people I know

(takes a purposeful glance at his companion). Now my sister, that was something else. She had

all the responsibilities, but it was expected. So when my Father died my sister just automatically

started taking care of my mother. Y‟ever see “Like Water For Chocolate” – its that whole Latin

mother-daughter thing. Hey, I told my wife that in Puerto Rico, the women, even the in-laws are

supposed to be the caretakers. She just gave me the look that says, “don‟t even think about it.”

Of course I was the first Puerto Rican she met that she didn‟t have to tip, so I shouldn‟t be

surprised. (looking off) Finally. (he walks a few steps left, the lights cross fading to a new spot

on the stage. They prepare to tee off) But she‟s right. We‟re not living in the hills anymore. Life

is different, well it‟s different for us. I like what I built for my family, and my kids aren‟t going

to have to scrape by like I did. My parent‟s generation hangs on to the old ways. My wife‟s

family, when her father was getting old and couldn‟t be by himself, the family got together and

put him in a nice facility. There wasn‟t all this emotion about “putting him away.” (indicates his

partner) Straighten your elbow. (looks off) Nice shot. Some of these old people still want to have

a life. I went to see a woman yesterday who I was discharging. She only had a bad bone bruise

but she had to be seventy-five, eighty and moved like she was ninety. She was definitely going to

need some help at home. So I asked her if she made any arrangements or if she had help from her

family. You know what she said: “My family has their own lives. I can take care of myself. But I

would appreciate it if you could get me some physical therapy. I need to recover quickly. I want

to go on this cruise to Alaska, and I‟ve already booked it.” I thought-isn‟t this something. Here‟s

an old woman, alone, who is moving on with her life. My mother‟s still mourning my father and

he‟s dead for twenty-five years. (Ricardo lines up the ball and his phone rings. He answers)

Hello...Well if she doesn't want to go don't force her….I know you arranged a van but she

doesn't want to go so leave her alone…..The senior center isn't going away…..So she watches

novelas all day, what's the difference?.....Don't talk to me about the quality of her life, she's been

watching these shows for forty years…..basta ya, I got to go. (He hangs up.He tees the ball up

hits a shot and uses body english. Addressing the shot) C‟mon get over. All right not too bad. (he

walks and light cross fade to another point on the stage) My mother subscribes to the old Puerto

Rican tradition that when your husband dies you live out your life keeping his memory alive, and

that‟s it….I‟m serious. Listen it was all I could do to get her to move out of Hunts Point. Luckily,

my sister and I were on the same page on that one. Where‟s your Mom?.....Boca, nice. I tried to

get my Mom to move to Florida, but she and my sister both pitched a fit. At least I got her out of

the South Bronx. Not that it was easy. But there‟s no way I‟m parking a BMW on Baretto Street.

Except now it‟s harder for her to get to the Botanica….Botanica?, oh you‟re going to love this:

They‟re these shops you see in Puerto Rican neighborhoods. They sell religious artifacts, herbs,

all kinds of shit these old people think is gonna help them. You know how crazy this makes me.

I‟m an attending physician and my mother‟s getting potions for arthritis. Don‟t get me wrong,

she loves that I‟m a doctor. Oh yeah, she loves bragging about it. She could be Jewish (slight

pause) no offense. But she still has to hang on to these superstitions. I‟m just glad she „s not into

Santeria. You never heard of that? No, I don‟t suppose you have a lot of Botanicas in

Scarsdale….No I didn‟t think so. Santeria is a kind of a religion, it has Afro-Caribbean roots.

There are a lot of rituals and a big focus on saints….No that doesn‟t sound too bad, its just that

these rituals involve sacrificing small animals, mostly chickens, and then there are spells….Yes

I‟m serious….Yeah it‟s a little like voodoo….Oh no, a lot of people still do this. No, my mom

doesn‟t go in for it, but on the other hand you‟ll never hear her say anything against a Santero.

She believes just enough to make her scared. (pause)I don‟t get it. I take her out of a run down

third floor walk up with plaster falling off the ceiling and put her in a new condo on City Island

and she‟s telling me she wants to go back to this dump in the South Bronx where she has drug

dealers as neighbors. You know how much my wife liked me spending 250 K on this condo? The

only way I could convince her was to say “Honey if something happens while she living down

there she‟ll have to move in with us.” That did it. Plus, it‟s an investment. (walks to where his

“ball” is takes a swing, and looks at the path of the “ball”) OK.(he walks and the lights cross fade

to another part of the stage) …...My mother? My mother just wants me to enjoy my life. She

wants to know the kids are ok-she‟d like to see them but what am I gonna do? They have their

own lives. We all do. The kids aren‟t interested in spending time with her. She‟s always giving

them a hard time cause they don‟t speak Spanish…. The problem? The problem is that my wife

hates it if we take the little free time we have and go all the way to the Bronx see my mother.

Plus she and my mother never got along, and here‟s my sister telling me I‟m not doing enough,

that she‟s tired of being there all the time and my mother needs more help. But I finally figured

out the answer. (The phone rings. He hesitates, looks at the number, shakes his head and

answers) Carmen if you call me one more time forget about Mom, I‟m sending you to the

nursing home…..I just hadn‟t gotten around to telling you, what‟s the difference?…..Cause

you‟re driving me crazy that she shouldn‟t be alone; hey I‟m helping you……It looks to

everyone like you can‟t take care of your mother by yourself? You can’t take care of your

mother by yourself. You tell me this daily…..Carmen, you can‟t have it both ways. Take the day

off and get your hair done. (He hangs up) Anyway, you know my philosophy is that if you have

a problem, throw money at it. Hey, what‟s it for? Then I thought, you know I‟ll just hire one of

these geriatric care managers and they can handle her affairs, bring in help if she needs it, that

kind of stuff. (watches his partner putt) too bad. But then I realized I can‟t shut my sister out

completely because she can‟t give up being in charge. So I went to some of the few relatives who

still live in the Bronx and offered to pay them to come in and help my mother with a few things.

Basically it‟s babysitting.. Some of them got insulted, you know, telling me I should be doing

this. I finally found one whose, how can put this? Her circumstances overides her principles. I

just told her,“It‟s very simple :don‟t tell my mother I‟m paying you and by the way its cash.”

She‟s starting next week. That gets my sister off my back. And what I do when I go into New

York is: when my wife is off shopping or something, I drag one of the kids and basically say

“come to Grandmas‟s with me for an hour and then we‟ll go shopping” (He putts in) So you see,

everybody‟s happy…..Machiavellian? You say that like it‟s a bad thing. C‟mon you‟re buying.

(Ricardo exits as lights fade. Lights up on Bill as before)


(He puts out his glass) Thanks, Tommy. Lemme buy you one. The funny thing is that my mother

was young and wasn‟t married herself when she left Ireland. But it was different. She had to. Her

father was still around, and a bunch of her brothers and sisters, but they were so dirt poor that

anywhere someone could go to make a living, they went. So she comes here, starts working for

rich people and eventually she‟s runnin their lives. (Looking up at television) Does anybody

remember how to play ball? There‟s a guy on first and the guy at bat is doing everything he can

to move him over. So what happens? The guy on first runs on his own…..Yeah, I know he stole

the base, but what if he got thrown out? What was I sayin? Oh yeah, my Mother was so

independent that by the time she met my father she already knew more about money and

managing things than he ever would. She‟s still like that. I go to the orthopedist with her and she

tells him “I can‟t take a lot of time with physical therapy, I‟m goin to Alaska.” By herself. Can

you believe this?(pause) I got to give her credit though. She put up with some shit boy, I‟m

telling ya. I hate to say this but I could never figure out why she married my old man. When I

was a kid he was drunk more than he was sober….I don‟t know if that‟s true but it seemed like

that. You‟re from Woodlawn, Tommy right? Weren‟t the old guys all like that? …..Awright,

awright, they weren‟t all like that…..ok your father was Robert Young, ok I get it. Well my

father wasn‟t fuckin Robert Young, and I wasn‟t Bud, and we didn‟t live with Princess and

Kitten. He‟d come home ripped and the first person who looked at him the wrong way got

smacked in the head, including my mother. I remember when I was real young she‟d yell at him

just about every night he came home drunk which was…just about every night. Then at some

point she stopped yellin…. I think she just gave up. (the television gets his attention again) How

hard is it to throw a strike? But ya know the next day, no matter what, it was like nothin

happened. She would make him breakfast and he‟d act like any other father goin off to work.

Unbelievable. And she‟d go out like everything was just fine. Never say shit about my Dad to


(Bill looks back up at the television as the lights fades lowly out on him and up on Doris, 35,

African-American, who is typing as her voice is heard OR She periodically reads aloud what she

has typed)


Dear Dad: I‟m sorry I haven‟t been in touch for a while. I do try to call you but I never seem to

find you home. Rather than have another argument about getting an answering machine, I

thought I‟d write and let you know what‟s going on. I hope you‟re taking your medications and

watching your diet. If you keep taking your high blood pressure pills, and take it easy on the

fried food, you‟ll be fine. Today is the seventh anniversary of me leaving Greenville to come

North. I still like being a discharge planner, but things are really hectic at the hospital. So many

older folks leave the hospital with no family, and no one to depend on. It‟s getting me down

because there just doesn‟t seem to be enough help, or the help they get does more harm than

good. I‟m just thankful you‟re where you are. Down home everybody pitches in when someone

is having a rough time. Folks just seem more connected down south, but maybe its just that

country living is so different than up here. I see so many that could use a helping hand and

mostly there just doesn‟t seem to be one around. Its not like back in Greenville, where it seemed

like all our aunts, uncles and cousins were in shouting distance.

I remember, and it wasn‟t that long ago that I lived there, how people at church would get

together and help out the people who were having a hard time, especially the old folks. Reverend

Pike would finish the sermon and say, “You should all know that Mazie Thomas over on Euclid

Street is going through a difficult time. It would certainly be a wonderful demonstration of

fellowship if some of our neighbors looked in on Ms. Thomas and lent a hand.“ Reverend never

actually asked anyone to do anything. But there would always be folks that would get together

and see what needed to be done and just do it. They‟d come over with some food and say “I just

made way too much today and I‟d hate to see it go to waste.” Or, they‟d stop by and say “I‟m

just on my way to the store do you need anything?”, or just stop by for a visit-of course they‟d

always bring something. Nobody ever made a big deal about it. When I was about twelve I

remember we‟d drop baskets of food at poor people‟s front doors on Thanksgiving morning. I

remember the first time I did this with you. You wouldn‟t tell me where we were going. You

stopped a little ways up from the Carter house. You told me to run out, drop the basket, ring the

bell and run back to the car. As soon as I was back in the car you took off before anyone came

out. At the time it seemed like a great adventure. I didn‟t realize until I got older that we did it

this way so people wouldn‟t feel self-conscious about accepting help. There‟s not so much of

that up here. The churches have big congregations, but they don‟t seem to pay too much attention

to the older folks in the community. The church leaders here have their hands full trying to deal

with drugs and homelessness, and violence in their communities. The older people are pretty

much forgotten unless they can make it to a senior center for lunch. A lot of the children of these

folks have their own set of serious troubles so they can‟t be counted on. We never depended on

the government back home, because we always had family and friends. But these folks have no

one. And when they do reach out for help, most times they get treated so badly they don‟t want

it. I‟ve sent people to doctors who reject them because they can‟t pay. And those who will accept

their cases treat them disrepectfully. Many of the older black folk up here have poor medical

coverage if they have any. Many of them need care that‟s hard to come by. Sometime it seems

we haven‟t made as much progress as we think. I really thought in a city like this there would be

there would be more black doctors and nurses but that‟s not the case. Its a lot of young whites

and Asians that don‟t seem to know how to talk to the older black folks. I‟ve seen this alot but

today I just blew up. I was getting some information from a patient who was almost ninety. The

doctor came in and asked if he could interrupt to check on her. I know they‟re all busy so I told

him, it was fine and I‟d just wait on the other side of the curtain. I couldn‟t help but hear what

was going on. He was poking at her and asking her a lot questions one after the other. She was

barely able to hear him much less understand him. She tried to ask him questions. But no matter

what she asked he just said, “Don‟t worry about it.” All of a sudden he pulls the screen away and

leaves the room. So I go to the woman and ask her, “Did the doctor answer your questions? Did

he tell you what you need to do when you go home?” She just looked helplessly at me and said,

“I don‟t know what he said.” I just got so mad. It was just one too many times for me. I chased

the doctor down the hall and said “Excuse me doctor, Ms. Jenkins has some concerns that need

to be addressed.” “Who‟s Ms. Jenkins?” he says to me. “The patient you just left,” I said. I was

raising my voice but I didn‟t care. “This woman has no one to help her,” I said “she‟s mostly

deaf, and she‟s doing whatever she can to keep herself alive. Maybe you could spend another

minute to make sure she understands what you‟re telling her.” I could tell he was about to get

really mad at me when he realized there were people around. “Fine” he says. He heads back to

Ms. Jenkin‟s room quickly, looking at his watch until he realizes I‟m following him in. As I

turned I caught the eye of the only black student nurse on the floor. She smiled at me without

saying anything, but I knew what she meant. It wasn‟t just today. I had an old man in my office

the other day who refused to see one more doctor. He sat right in front of me and said, “I have

never been treated with so much disrespect. Let me tell you something young lady, if you‟re poor

and black you‟d better not get sick. You might be better off if you just up and died.” This didn‟t

stop me from trying to get him to another doctor but I was depressed by what he said. I can‟t

deny it: You‟ll get better care if you‟re rich and white. I know you don‟t like me to talk like that,

Daddy, but it‟s plainly clear that‟s the case. The black families with money have become like the

white families with money. They spread out so no one is near the parents when they get old. I

guess seeing all these people with no family around, I‟m feeling badly that I‟m up here and

you‟re down there. Sometimes I just want to leave and come back home (and if I keep fighting

with doctors I may have to) but I‟m afraid there‟ll be one less concerned black face here, and that

makes me feel like I‟m abandoning a ship full of people with no port to sail into.

Today I had a woman in my office who made me think of you. She was white. (don‟t laugh). Her

son was with her trying to convince her to have a home attendant when she goes home, but she

wanted no part of it. The son wanted so much to help, even to do things for her himself, but she

is determined to be independent as long as she can (sound familiar?). I related to his

helplessness. Dad, I want you to take care of yourself and do what you want, but PLEASE

promise me you‟ll let me know when you‟re ready to have some help. And I promise that I‟ll

come down more often. I know you‟ve got some friends and we still have family down there, but

I‟ll feel better if I can see how you‟re doing. I miss you every day. And some days more than

others. I‟ll be home soon. Love, Doris

(Doris puts her fingers to her lips, touches the computer screen and presses a button on the
computer. We hear the sound of an ink jet printer as the lights fade on Doris and up on Bill as


One night my father comes in…now by the time I was ten I could always tell what kind of night

it was going to be as soon as he walked in, so most nights I‟d disappear as soon as he got home.

But this night I wasn‟t quick enough to get out of the way.He sees me comin out of the kitchen

and I get a shot. My mother comes in, sees what happened, they get into it, and she gets a shot.

Well he staggers upstairs, and my sister Donna comes flyin in from her room with her girlfriend,

what‟s her name (trying to come up with it) ya know Joey, who‟s got the auto parts store on

Webster Avenue?, his sister. So anyway, Donna starts in on my mother, “How can you put up

with this?” You should kick him out. He‟s nothing but a drunk,” all this stuff. So my mother says

to Joey‟s sister whatever her name is, “Dear, I need to speak with my daughter, would you

excuse us?” Whatshername leaves and mom rips into Donna, “How dare you talk about your

father in front of strangers,” as if that was the only thing that mattered, not him bein drunk,

hittin‟ me or hittin‟ her, but the possibility that the neighbors would know-as if they didn‟t know

already-as if they didn‟t see him themselves comin home from here most nights walkin like a

two year old kid-as if half of them didn‟t have their own versions of my father in their own

house-as if they even gave a shit……All right Tommy, one more. (at television) Look at this

shit. For six million dollars you think he could hit the ball to the right side of the infield.

But ya know as crazy as I thought she was, worryin about the neighbors and all, my mom always

looked out for me. She‟d always try to get in between me and my father when he would go after

me; She actually wanted me to get married. She‟s always been there for me, and I can‟t stand to

think about something happening to her. I‟m tellin‟ya Tommy, all I‟ve been tryin to do since my

father died is take care of her and she won‟t let me.

and it‟s makin me nuts.

(Lights out on Bill and up on Sarah, 85, Eastern European Jew. She is sitting on a recliner with a
phone to her ear, listening to an outgoing message on someone‟s voice mail)


Why don‟t you just change the message to say “I‟m too busy to talk to my mother.” (She pushes

a button on the phone) …..Hello, Valerie, it‟s Mrs. Abramson…..fine, how are you darling? Is

Sharon busy?, nothing‟s wrong….. Of course I‟ll hold on….(to herself) I can‟t hold on.

Donald Trump is picking me up. We‟re having lunch at the Pierre….hello darling….no,

nothing‟s wrong….I didn‟t leave a message because I don‟t have faith in answering

machines….yes, you always call me back-eventually….look at it this way, leaving a message

with an actual person, if you didn‟t call me back we‟d both have somebody to blame. So, how‟s

work?....That‟s good thing, right?....How‟s Steve and the kids?......that‟s very nice…..nothings

up, we had a little drama here yesterday….you know Elizabeth from next door?, that‟s

Dolores, she went into a nursing home, the other next door, the nice Irish lady. Well she fell….I

think so, but what I don‟t understand is that her son wants her to live with them but she doesn‟t

want to….I understand independence, but she wont let him do anything for her….yes he lives

right in the neighborhood…..He works for UPS. I don‟t know why she doesn‟t let him do for

her, from what I hear she had SOME life….I heard her husband was a drinker….at the senior

center….I DONT go there anymore…I have nothing in common with those women….they‟re

not interested in anything…. I walk 4 blocks and take a bus to the Riverdale center because

there‟s things going in there….there‟s classes and discussion groups. Some of the people think

its arguing, but we‟re just discussing. At the Center here, they‟re all very nice but they all feel

the same way about everything. Whatever, the Center director says, is right; whatever the Priest

says, is right. The ones with husbands, whatever the husband says, is right….no I‟m not, I get

along with everybody, they‟re very nice, they should live and be well.

Over in Riverdale we discuss all the time. I think its cause we‟re mostly Jews, and we‟re mostly

women…..what does that mean? what that means is that we‟ve always had something to say

about how we live…..Do you remember the joke your father used to tell?....which one? Meyer

and Moishe are talking. Meyer says , “I make all the important decisions in my family and I let

my wife take care of everything else.” So Moishe says, “what does your wife decide?” Meyer

says, “she decides where we‟ll live, how much we can pay for a car, where the kids will go to

school, where we‟ll go on vacation, things like that.” So Moishe says, “so what decisions do you

make?” And Meyer says, “It‟s my decision what we should do about Red China, the national

debt, the voting age, things like that.” When we were young we were told the men study and the

women take care of things…..yes things changed. Things changed when we came to this

country…..You know what I was thinking the other day? All these old people are immigrants,

but some people had it easier than others. We came here thinking life wouldn‟t be as hard. We

thought here people won‟t tell us where we can live or where we can go, but guess what? They

hate us here too. Plus we couldn‟t speak the language, we didn‟t get to keep our own

names… you think Terry is the last name your father was born with in Russia?....Nobody

could pronounce Terasiminovsky on Ellis Island.….Why didn‟t we change it back? Because we

wanted to be real Americans. We thought if we became real Americans we could get along in the

world. But we were different so people took advantage of us…..I know you‟ve heard this before

but I think you need to be reminded: Whoever‟s in charge takes advantage. Whoever‟s in charge

pushes people around. Even in the senior center. The director thinks he‟s such a righteous Jew.

He tells us we should do a fundraising event for Israel. Who is he to tell us what to do? Some of

us, like me, want that the money should go to the hurricane victims in New Orleans. You should

have heard the geshri about that. Mabel Horowitz called me an anti-semite….I gave her what-

for. I told her to read the whole Bible. My parents didn‟t get us out of Russia for me to take

orders from people who talk loud. At least in this country if I open my mouth they don‟t send me

to jail. Hold on darling somebody‟s trying to call me. (she clicks in) Hello?.....Hi how are you? I

can‟t talk, I‟m on the phone with my daughter….you and I should live so long, I called

her….yes, I‟m coming….I‟ll pick up the rye bread….No. you don‟t have to pick me up. I‟ll pick

up the bread at Greenblatt‟s and BX10 is right there….No really, it‟s silly for you to deal with

the traffic on the Henry Hudson. It‟s really no trouble….Harriet, please my daughter‟s on hold.

Ten more seconds and she‟ll have to hang up and make some deal…good, see you tomorrow

(she clicks back) Sorry darling that was Harriet, our bridge game is tomorrow…..Yes I still play.

We all bring things for lunch, and I‟m bringing the bread….I take the bus…‟s fine, please,

Harriet wants to pick me up….why? Have you seen her drive? I‟d rather cross Pelham Parkway

on one leg than get in the car with her….Nothing, except she can‟t see and she can‟t hear…..the

games? Did you ever try to play bridge with three old ladies who refuse to use hearing aids? I

have a sore throat for a week….I do so put in my hearing aid….well most of the time…well, a

lot….I‟m glad you‟re glad.

Darling, I was thinking, maybe you‟ll all come up for the holidays this year?.......NO, NOT

CHRISTMAS, ROSH HASHONAH! Oyveysmeer. Since when do you celebrate Christmas? Do

you recall that you‟re a Jew? I don‟t care how much money you have, or how educated your

friends are, when push comes to shove you‟re the one whose different….No darling, things

haven‟t changed that much. And just when you think they have changed, somebody reminds you

that they haven‟t. The goyim think we have all the money. You want to know a secret? You

know who the poorest people in the Bronx are? … it‟s the old Jews….No darling, I‟m not

talking about me, I‟m fine. It‟s just you should know how things are and that there will always be

people who will hate you for no other reason than your heritage, and not just the people you

think.….Yes, there is something else (pause) When we came here we all wanted to fit in.

Nobody wanted to be a greenhorn. When I was young there were stores that had signs that said,

“No dogs or Jews allowed.” That‟s another reason people changed their names after they got

here. It was hard. We all thought that education was the way to be successful in America. So

your father and I did everything we could to give you and your brother a good education, and

pay for you go to these fancy schools .You went out and got good jobs and you‟re successful….I

am proud of you……But I look at Mrs. Oliver next door with her son who never left the Bronx.

You know what he does? He drives a truck. He‟s got a wife and a family and he can‟t do enough

for his mother. My children are both divorced, they have Christmas trees in their houses and I

see my grandchildren twice a year. So let me ask you, did I do the right thing pushing you when

you were young?.....No darling, I‟m not trying to make you feel guilty. Maybe I‟m feeling a little

guilty. And maybe today I‟m just having a bad day…..No darling, we‟ve had this

discussion….Sharon, please I can‟t live in Florida. It‟s where old Jews go to die and I‟m not

ready….I know there‟s plenty to do down there, but guess what they haven‟t figured out? When

you can‟t drive anymore there‟s no way to get to all those things to do. Here I can just get on a

bus or a train….Safe? You think that‟s not safe? You think it‟s safer to walk around Boca Raton

with a whole community of drivers like Harriet Blauner…..I don‟t know what the answer is. You

know I want to see more of you and the children….You‟re right, I could visit a little more, it

wouldn‟t kill me….But maybe you could come up this year. Have your children ever seen real

snow?.....So maybe you could come up for Christmas….Well think about it……Good bye

darling….Oh by the way, let me remind you, it‟s also Chanukah. (Lights out on Sarah, up on

Bill. As before)


I‟m sure my mother woulda rather me marry a nice Irish girl from the neighborhood, but she

gets along great with Connie. The only thing she really hates is me drinkin…Oh yeah you

shoulda seen what happened at my grandfather‟s wake….yeah this is a long time ago. All his

buddies from the Transit Authority are here, knockin‟em back…my father‟s drinkin and cryin…

and he starts givin me drinks, and the other guys start givin me drinks. I felt like I couldn‟t say

no. Here I am, thirteen and hadn‟t had a drink in my life. So my mother gets wind of this….I‟m

sure one of the neighbors came by and said, “So sorry about your father-in-law, Elizabeth, and

by the way your barely teenage son is getting plastered at the Boulevard.” So of course she

comes down here.As a matter of fact that may be the only time she‟s come down here, she hates

this place. So she walks in and everyone gets quiet. It was like Clint Eastwood walkin into the

saloon in those spaghetti westerns. All I remember was the juke box was playin “Wild Colonial

Boy.” My mother looked at every man there, except my father, grabbed me by the arm and

dragged me out which was good because I could barely walk. I spent the rest of the day and a

good part of the night huggin the toilet bowl. When I was done pukin she made me drink milk

with ice in it….. yeah I know, but it made me feel better. The only thing my mother said to me

was, “I hope you enjoyed yourself.” I‟m telling ya she did a good job lookin out for me and now

I‟m tryin to look out for her, ya know, but she just won‟t let me. So I told her I wanted her to

move in with us. …..Yeah, I asked her…..I did talk it over with Connie, and she agreed. The kids

are out of the house, we got the room, and mom can‟t really take care of her house anymore. It

seemed like a good idea. But get this: she turns me down! She says, “Your kids are finally gone

I‟m not giving you someone else to take care of.” So I tell her, “you can‟t keep up with the

house, its getting to be too much.” She says, “if I can‟t do everything I‟ll get someone to come

in.” So I tell her, “Ma what if you fall again?” So you know what she says to me? “I can fall in

your house the same as I can fall in my house.” Now I‟m thinking, I‟m gonna have a friggin

stroke and die, worryin about her dyin.……What am I gonna do? I don‟t know. But I‟m telling

ya this: I‟m gonna help her if it kills me……No Tommy, no more for me. I gotta go. One more

club soda and I‟ll have enough gas to get to Montauk and back.……What?.....You know Tommy

that‟s a good idea. You should give your Mother a call, and send her my regards. (starts to leave

and comes back for small package) Shit, I almost forgot the cheesecake. (Lights fade as Bill