Godmother Weekend or Why Don't Dogs Like Barry Manilow?

Labor day weekend and the long anticipated Godmother weekend arrives. The baby and girls show up around midnight, but that doesn't keep us from staying up till 3 in the morning. As children our all nighters were executed under the guise of sleepovers. We'd whisper about our latest crushes, who said so and so, the latest antics of the Hambleton brothers. But we're adults now and we drink Cosmopolitans, snack on chicken salad and yell about our latests crushes.

To honor the baby's Latin heritage we dine at La Estrella Del Caribe a Puerto Rican themed restaurant. Radha devours Chuleta Frita - seasoned pork chops fried on the bone. Polly sighs over shrimp fajitas, sweetly sizzling and fragrant with non a traditional Mexican marinade. Patty savors the classic Arroz con Pollo and I happily crunch on Pernil - marbled with indecent amounts of pork butt fat. The baby tries all of it but prefers flirting with the male waiters to food. Hmmmm. Must come from her father's side of the family, since nothing takes precedence over food to a Ched female.

Given the Latin theme for the evening we come home and dance on the deck. Sophia takes turns in our arms as we attempt to Salsa and Merengue. The night serenades us.The 17 year cicadas make whirring Predator noises. A bird simpers in a tree sounding like an injured dog. The motorcycle boys whiz past on their way to Newark. Then the music starts, decently enough with Stan Getz's Brazilian jazz. Ella, Marvin Gaye, Gladys Night. Then it gets weird. Somehow Andrea Bocelli is followed by Meatloaf. And LL Cool J by Barry Manilow. Thy neighbor dog voices his displeasure at a weekend in New England. Then comes the Carpenters. We sing every song word for word of a 2 CD Carpenter complilation. Don't roll your eyes at me, you know the words to Top of the World. Sing it!

A chill enters the evening so we light a fire in the outdoor fireplace. In middle of the immolation of fallen tree branches and a tarot reading Sophia exlaims "Hi Mommy!" This being landmark as her only intelligible words thus far have been "Puppy?"

By noon Monday the girls have already left. No juice bobbies, milk bobbies. No manipulative toddling baby girl flopping around in her pink crocs with a stealthy dog eager to devour bits of bacon falling from bacon, avocado and tomato sandwiches. Just a very tired little white dog, sparkling sangria glasses and an empty house still throbbing with love.

Requiem for a Grandfather

The thing I will always remember about my grandfather's funeral will not be the thousands of people who showed up from all corners of the earth. It will not be his seven children or 18 grandchildren or 11 great grandchildren exhausted after keeping vigil by his side after 4 months in the hospital. It won't be the century-old buddies or the former employees, students or colleagues that paid tribute.

It will be the way his culture bid him farewell. Aged men gazing on their crony with deep sadness and a surge of disbelief. For here lay the man who cheated old age for more than a century. The way the women cradled his stone cold head in their hands, blessing his forehead with the love only a woman can bestow. The way my cousins Polly and Patty's voices broke when they sang a medley of Amazing Grace. So much so that the audience picked up the melody so the girls' voices, thickened by grief could rest. The way my cousin Yvonne sobbed at the closing of his casket and told the congregation, I cry not for him but myself for he is no longer here to guide me. I have to find someway to find the answers inside me now. The music performed by my cousins Rekha and Tommy which gave eerie beauty to such a somber ceremony.

Most of all I will remember the rain pouring down during the funeral service but the clouds blowing away as we drove to the cemetery. The sunlight as it bathed us and the casket as we tossed roses upon it.

Most of all, the sense of closure as the most important familial chapter of my life ended with the casket was lowering into the earth.

Veeraiah B. Chedalavada. January 13, 1907 – March 29, 2009