I remember when

my great grandmother

came to visit us

from the Old Country.


It was my nana’s

first trip abroad, and

her first trip anywhere

on her own.


My great grandfather

had died a year earlier

at the grand old age of

one hundred & nine,

when he was accidentally

crushed to death by

his own hat.


Fortunately for my nana

they had managed to save

a small fortune.


My great grandfather

never trusted banks, so

he kept all of his money

hidden in his mattress,

& he kept his mattress

in a money-market

account, in the hopes

that one day,

God willing, they would

have accrued enough

interest to buy

themselves something

comfortable to sleep



But now

my great grandmother

used that money

to travel to the states

to begin a life anew.



Nana spoke not a

word of English,

and we, in turn, spoke

not a word of

Old Country.


Fortunately, my father

came up with a novel

solution, which came to

him after a night spent

watching Marx Brothers



Like, Harpo Marx,

our nana could learn to

communicate with a



Problem: the only

horn we had was the

horn attached to my

father’s Cadillac.


This was solved by

moving my great grandmother

out of the back cottage

and into the garage.


And over time, she became

quite adept at communicating

with the car-horn.


What follows is a brief list of

what each car-honk meant.


One car honk: Can somebody bring old granny her tobacco?

Two car honks: Old granny is still waiting on her tobacco.

Three car honks: Did every-body forget about old granny?

Four car honks: Old granny is taking the caddy out to buy tobacco


Then came the holidays

and with relatives arriving

we knew we had to find a

better solution …


End of Part One




ONE day,

long after I have

shaved my last shave,

someone may turn to

someone else, and say,

“I bet George is

spinning in his grave.”


And no doubt

they will hit that square

on the chin,

for what else is there to

do in a grave, but spin?


Still, who can

reasonably say, I thought,

for maybe that day,

my plan was to stay

completely still, and rot


That is why my friends

I come to-day to tout

that my grave is to be


so as to erase all doubt.


Just press the button

on my tomb-stone,

you’ll be happy you enquired.

And what’s best,

the button is free

to press!

No offense in my name



AND finally then,

my friend,

for certain you will know,

for six feet


there I go!

Round and round and




bw party tref