A Sandwich Day

Today in my quiet New York suburb it's Sandwich Day: running around trying on, ironing, and packing for my daughter's wedding in Vermont, and remembering to call my 88-year-old mom back in Oklahoma, to keep her apprised of the latest family news.

In this year of preparation for the wedding, my daughter Catherine has not been speaking to me, I've been hurt and infuriated, and my husband has been steamed at Demian, our lovely son-in-law to be. In this last week, some relations have improved somewhat, but Stewart said today that he still isn't sure he'll be able to offer a sincere toast to the happy couple. That's okay, I told him, though of course it isn't, but worrying won't help, so I expect a miracle by Friday.

I do not mention this tension in my call to mom. Catherine is her first grandchild, and mom doesn't believe darling Cathy is capable of any bitchiness. I can't come to the wedding, mom says sorrowfully, again. Not only is her long-term memory shot, but so is the short-term. Whenever I call, she wants to know what I do all day, it's news to her about the wedding, and she asks how "we all" are — because she doesn't remember Stewart's name, ever.

That's okay, I tell her, though it isn't. Maxine is Catherine's only living grandparent now, and she'll be missed. And Catherine's an only child. And both her birth father and her Grandpa Jay died in April this year. And she's feuding with her dad's girlfriend. One of Cathy's two stepbrothers (Stewart's younger son) can't come to the wedding because he's gone all-over-Orthodox — with new black hat, modest wife and baby Schlomo — there's really no kosher catering in Brattleboro. So, it's not okay, nothing's okay, but Grandma Maxine really is too weak to travel to Vermont.

I am the liverworst of the sandwich, the bread is rough, scratchy — grainy and toasted: I get squished from time to time, but I'll be fine — I've been squished before. You live. We'll all be fine: Cathy will only remember that the wedding was lovely, even if it rains because ... weddings always are lovely, aren't they?

Squish…squish…squish.