About the B'nai Bagels Read Online Free

convert me into the Little League Willie Mays. But the weather wouldn’t warm up; we had a snowstorm late in March. As long as I can remember, Point Baldwin has always had a snowstorm late in March, and people have always called it “unseasonal.” If it happens that time every year, you’d think that they’d call it “seasonal.”
    Early in April we had Passover and Dad was in the worst part of the tax season; both gave him indigestion.We didn’t do a lot of the things you’re supposed to do for Passover like change dishes and get all the non-Passover foods like flour and cereal out of the house. Mother just put all that stuff into a certain closet and put masking tape around the edges. Once in a while she “borrowed” something from that closet, and by the eighth day the tape looked rather puckered around the edges. Whenever she took something from there, Mother would look up toward the light fixture and say, “begging Your pardon.” But we ate matzos instead of bread, which was the most important thing and also the thing that gave Dad his indigestion.
    Also Mother made a big Seder and invited her sister, Aunt Thelma, and her husband, Uncle Ben. All in all, Passover was casual and fun in our house, but between all the special cooking for that and between all of us having to walk on tiptoes to give Dad peace to work on his accounts, the time for my special help galloped away, and Mother had to get ready for try-outs.
    She bought Oaktag and Magic Markers and converted the dining room into a studio. Except it isn’t a real dining room. It’s around the bend in the living room. Mother calls it a dining area, and Spencer and the man who sold us the house call it a dining el because the living room and the dining room spacemake an
L
shape. The dining area being the short leg of the
L
allowed much of the stuff to pour out into the living room.
    The ladies of the Sisterhood came to help Mother. They drank a lot of coffee, smoked a lot of cigarettes, and made posters. One sister marked the margins on the poster board (Lightly, Barbara, lightly. Remember, your lines must be erased.) Another did the lettering, using a template that they bought in the five-and-ten, and a third sister was a specialist in decorating the posters. She drew a boy batting in the upper right and another boy catching in the lower left. (Oh, Lillian, you are so clever!) The ladies complained a lot about the others in Sisterhood. (They certainly want their boys to participate, but they won’t lift a finger—not a finger—to help.) Mother didn’t complain; she made coffee, emptied ashtrays, and smiled a great deal. You’ve got to give credit where credit is due.
    I came downstairs and leaned over their work; the posters looked the same as they had every year since Point Baldwin had Little League.
    ATTENTION
BOYS AGED 9–13
TRYOUTS FOR LITTLE LEAGUE
    9–10 years old: Wed. 4:00–6:00
11–12 years old: Thurs. 4:00–6:00
HOLY CHILD PLAYING FIELD
Park and Forest Ave.
    “Watch it, Mark!” Mrs. Jacobs scolded. Esther Jacobs was Barry Jacobs’ mother, Barry being the guy who my ex-best, Hersch, spent his free time with. “The colors aren’t dry yet.” I knew Magic Markers dry instantly. It says so right on them.
    “All I want to do is read it,” I answered.
    “Wait until next week. They’ll be in store windows all over town.” And she smiled and looked at the other ladies, not at me.
    I put the poster down and read it anyway, without touching it. She kept glancing over at me. I didn’t need so much time to read such a little-bitty poster, but I knew that I was making her nervous. I was eating an apple, and I kept taking big crunching bites that sounded as if they’d splat across the whole dining room table. Esther Jacobs turned to look at me and sort-of smiled as I walked around the table. I could tell that I was slowing down production. I left.
    “Such a fine boy,” she said to my mother. Her saying that was curious because Esther