Saralee Rosenberg - Fate and Ms. Fortune
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- Book:Fate and Ms. Fortune
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- Year:2006
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To Lee
Thirty years and still climbing.
Our fate has been our great fortune.
To Zack, Alex, and Taryn
Whom I love and cherish
Only the journeys you share are the ones worth taking.
If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
And if I am only for myself, what am I?
And if not now, when?
Rabbi Hillel
from Pirket Avot (Sayings of the Fathers)
Why me?
Everyone
SOMETHING IS WRONG with Mom and Dad, Phillip whispered.
OKAY, THANKS GUYS. That wasnt at all humiliating. I found
UP UNTIL THE MOMENT I raced into the ballroom looking
ON A NORMAL BUSINESS DAY, a network news operation is
AS YOU KNOW, I recently dove off the comedy cliff.
I MARRIED DAVID FORTUNE on my thirtieth birthday, certain I
ONE OF MY FONDEST childhood memories was of spending summer
IN HONOR OF my twenty-first birthday, my father bought shares
YES, I CALLED HIM. Well not right away. It took
IVE BEEN ON some first dates that involved unusual modes
GLAD ITS NOT ME is the universal refrain when youre
I NEVER UNDERSTOOD the concept of paying to have the
IM JEWISH, but what little Id retained about my heritage
TURNS OUT I couldnt live with myself unless I confessed
WHAT DID GRETCHEN MEAN, if it all went down according
MY MOTHER WAS a big fan of letting her badly
RIGHT BEFORE TAKING an eighth grade science test, I remember
COMEDY IS BORN FROM TRAGEDY. Not much of a news
WORKING IN THE NEWS BUSINESS, I heard stories every day
I HAD THIS CONVERSATION with Rachel so many times, even
DONT YOU LOVE the days when things are going great?
I PUT UP A POT of coffee (the way I
WHAT A NIGHTMARE to go from feeling the crowds love
SO WHATS THE LATEST with your parents? Ken punched up
OH, TO BE ABLE to choose our defining moments, for
GIVEN HIS DESPONDENCE, I was afraid to leave Ken for
AWK-WARD. That was the only possible word to describe the
THERE IS AN OLD SAYING in politics that every campaign
SO WHAT DID I DO when I broke up with
GOOD THING ABOUT being an adult traveling solo? You could
W HEN I WAS a freshman at Penn State, I took a class called Interpersonal Communications. It met every week at the library, and involved little more than moving from floor to floor observing other students body language, study habits, and social behavior.
Easy A, I thought, until we were given our first assignment. Write a short essay on religion, sexuality, and mystery, demonstrating our ability to make a point while using the least number of words.
The professor informed the group that in his fourteen years of teaching the class, he had yet to give out a top grade. Still, he held out hope.
I submitted the following: Good God. Im pregnant. I wonder who the father is.
I got an A.
Inspired, I became a big fan of brevity, never imagining that one day, the shortest sentence I would say aloud would turn into the longest sentence of my life.
I do.
S OMETHING IS WRONG with Mom and Dad, Phillip whispered.
What? I hollered over the blaring music and the din of a hundred kids running wild.
No matter that my older brother was an in-demand attorney who earned more in a billable hour than I did in a week, to me he was still a putz. Therefore, family bar mitzvahs were the perfect venue for conversation, as it was near impossible to engage in anything other than short, superficial chatter over an ear-pounding Everybody dance now
Yet Phillip insisted we talk. He pointed to our parents, Harvey and Sheila Holtz, who were seated across our table, but obscured by a massive centerpiece. Look at them. He leaned in. Dont you think theyre acting strange?
For about thirty years now.
Dont joke, Robyn. They havent said two words to each other all night.
I peered around the foam board cutout of hockey great Bobby Orr, and sure enough, they had turned their chairs to literally face the music. An unusual gesture for two people who wouldnt know Ashlee Simpson from Homer Simpson.
Mom, hows your salad? I yelled. Great raspberry vinaigrette.
Everybody dance nowyeahyeahyeah
Daddy, how about those Mets? I yelled louder. Could be our year.
Come on lets sweat, baby. Let the music take control
You guys want anything from the bar? our server asked. Its free.
What? I cupped my ear.
The drinks are free. What can I get you?
Free drinks? Really? Because we are having such a blast at Brandons Hall of Fame, we thought we were at Madison Square Garden, not a sixty-thousand-dollar reception hosted by our cousin Barry and his wife, Rhonda, in honor of their thirteen-year-old son, who learned to read from the Torah in between ice hockey clinics. Diet Coke, please.
Ill take an Absolut, my brother said to our white-gloved waiter, who seemed to care as much about French service as Paris Hilton. And bring my wife another cosmo. Thanks, buddy. He leaned closer so I could hear. Im just saying Ive never seen Mom this well behaved. She didnt even do her usual take-the-bread-off-Dads-plate-and-hand-it-to-the-busboy stunt.
Dont worry. Shes still up to her old tricks. I heard her go up to the Connecticut cousins and ask if theyre all so rich, why cant the men afford socks?Uh oh. Possible host alert. Look happy for Rhonda. Remember. Everything is beautiful.
Phillip faked a laugh. Then yesterday I called the house to remind Dad not to write a big check today because Barry and Rhonda stiffed us for Marissas bat mitzvah. I think they gave seventy-five a plate, or some ridiculous numberlike they didnt know what a Saturday night black-tie affair on Long Island costsAnyway, Mom picks up and says Dads busy, so I said, Where is he? And she says, How the hell should I know? Am I his parole officer?
Ten bucks says he was in the basement studying a map of the former Czech Republic.
He never called me back.
Oh, so thats where it comes from? You never call me back either.
Funny. Then this morning at the temple I said to Dad, Why didnt you call me back yesterday? and he looks at me. So I said, Mom told you I called, right? No answer.
Well Im glad theyre too busy to talk. Otherwise theyd be killing each other.
They took two cars here.
No way.
I know their license plates, okay? They both drove.
But Dad would go by mule before hed fill up two cars going to the same place.
Exactly.
Phillips wife, Patti the Whip, slid into her seat reeking of nicotine, certain her spearmint gum would baffle even us CSI fans. Like wed never have guessed that shed just spent the last ten minutes outside with her sisters in smoke.
I need another, hon. The former cheerleader pointed to her glass. Where are the kids?
Im on itEm found a friend from camp, and Max is hanging with some boy whose father owns three homesHe asked Max where we winter.
Love it. I laughed. Kids comparing vacation destinationsWe bought in Arizona. Mel and I dont mind the dry heatDry shmy. A hundred and ten is an oven.
Patti ignored me as usual and turned to her husband. Wheres Mariss?
Oh. She just called from the Mario Lemieux table to say Evan is picking her up now, so I said like hell youre leaving early. This is a family bar mitzvah. Were here till the bitter end.
I thought her cell died.
Apparently its born again, but that didnt stop her from bitching she needs a new one.
Ill take her after school on Monday. She held up a soup spoon to dab on lip gloss.
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