OCR Text |
Show A PROPER INTRODUCTION-32 dancers. "I'm smart about money, too," she would go on, "and I wish your father would let me handle the finances." Then she'd stare at me in the way that made me want to turn away. "If only I'd gone to college!" Mother was certain she would have been listened to more seriously had she gone to college and was therefore motivated to give my father a series of impassioned arguments in favor of my going. He finally agreed, but for a year, no more, for the money must be kept for Paul, the son. I spent a frenetic year at a small liberal arts college in new England, trying to f i t in every course of interest (and one of l i t t le interest but high survival value-shorthand). Then I moved to New York City, much against my father's wishes, to begin work in publishing, where I hoped that talent-if I really had any-counted more than degrees. Mother was excited. "Proud of you," she said. "You're the strong one in this family. Be sure to keep control of your own money." It's strange now to be in her kitchen and not know where to find things, to know that others have lived on-and not lived on-whether one is present or not. I'm trying to find the napkins and find instead her old cookbook, heavy and black, with a shredded spine and loose, stained pages. I quickly push it back into the drawer and decide not to poke around the kitchen. I'm glad laura is here to take over. Dr. boggs is the new Unitarian minister. He never met my mother, but because my parents kept up their membership, he has agreed to do a memorial service and came to my father's house this morning-my second day here, her second day gone. He is young looking with sideburns, wears cordury slacks and a plaid shirt, and smokes a pipe, which he relights several times during the |