BOW #26: Fried Nazi
Chicago, Illinois
Friday, March 2, 1974
2:35 p.m. Pacific Standard Time
4:35 p.m. Central Standard Time
All office furniture in an anonymous storage shed. Nothing remaining but the three Pacific Bell telephones now sitting on the floor where the desks had been.
Looking about one last time to see if there was any implicating trace.
“Look okay, Gerry?”
“Yeah, Ed.”
“Okay, might as well…”
One of the three phones began to ring.
Shrugging her shoulders. “Might as well get it.”
Reaching to the floor… “ ‘Your Write Hand’.”
“Good evening. Mister Edwin Plankow, please.”
“Speaking.”
“Mister Plankow, good evening. My name’s Marge Hanson and I calling from ‘Home Savings and Loan’ in San Diego, California.
Holding his handover the receiver, whispering “...San Diego.”
“For Lipensky?”
Shrugging his shoulders. “I guess.”
“How can I help you, Ms. Hanson?”
“I’m calling to check on the employment and payment record for Mitchell Lipensky.”
Thinking, What the hell! “One of my best people…” the man presently known as Edwin Plankow said “...pulling in business like crazy.”
“Prospects for here in San Diego?”
He’s our rep for all of Southern California and already has state wide appointments scheduled.”
“Financial prospects?”
“Excellent!”
“Thank you, Mister Plankow.”
“ ‘bye, Ms. Hanson.”
Wiping the telephone receiver with his handkerchief.
His wife, ‘Geraldine’ already outside.
Following her, the man known as Edwin Plankow pulled the door shut.
Schaumberg, Illinois
Saturday, March 3, 1974
8:22 a.m. Central Standard Time
“Well, you bought the house on Wednesday and we opened escrow and got the loan docs started on Thursday and the bank called your boss, uh…” consulting her notes, “Mr. Plankow ‘our’ time yesterday afternoon, and he… Plankow gave you a glowing earnings report so we got loan approval late yesterday afternoon. But I was tied up till about nine-thirty, so thought I’d give you the good news to brighten your day today.”
“That’s great, Sophie. That’s just ‘great’!”
“You hear anything on you end? You talk to Alice?”
“No. we were caught in traffic and got home late yesterday evening then we had to tell everyone about the trip and the new house and by the time we were through with dinner and talking it was getting late and we were tired so Marcie and I figured that if there’s anything we should know, or any problems, Alice would let us know. But if we don’t hear from her by Monday, we’ll call anyway.”
“Okay. Keep me advised, will you?”
“Of course we will… ‘Bye, Sophie.”
“’Bye, Mitch. Try to stay warm, will you?”
“You bet, Sophie. You stay warm, too… Bye.”
Coming from the family room. “Hey, Mom, we eating this morning, or what?”
“Yes, Sammy it’s cooking.”
“What’s cooking?”
“Fried motzie and pork sausage.”
“What’s for breakfast?” Ellie yelled from the family-room.”
“Fried Nazi!” Sammy yelled back.
“Huh?” Ellie said.
“I don’t want no fried Nazi!” Sherrie said.
Coming into the family-room. “Ain’t ‘Nazi,’, it’s ‘motzie’! ” Mitchell said, sitting on the floor next to his children, where he was immediately attacked and knocked onto his back and crawled upon by three laughing children and a gloppy kissing Great Dane.
“Come on you kids!” Marsha called from the kitchen. “Your fried Nazis’ almost ready. Go get washed!”
Roughhousing on the floor with Elli, Sherry and Sammy, with Sabra butting her snout into the melee, Mitchell was laughing so hard he hadn’t the strength to lift himself from the floor.
The phone rang.
In the process of stirring a second batch of broken,water softened, egg battered matzo in one large frying pan and turning a pound and a half of pork sausage in another… “Mitchell, get the phone!”
“Yeah!” Trying to untangle himself. “Come on, guys, let me up… Sabra, pffft.” Pretending to spit as Sabra’s tongue caught him in the mouth.
Grabbing the phone on the fifth ring. “Yeah, hello.”
“Mitchell, it’s me again.”
“Sophie? What’s wrong?”
Alarmed, turning the fire off beneath both frying pans, Marsha turned from the stove.
“I didn’t want to wait till Monday. I like to know what’s happening now, so I called Alice.”
“ ‘You called Alice’! What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Marsha repeated.
“Nothing...” Sophie said “...I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Alice and everything’s going just great on your end.”
“Hold on, Sophie.” Looking at his wife. “No worry, Sophie says everything’s okay. She talked to Alice and everything’s okay.”
“Thank God!” Turning back to the stove, Marsha re-lit the two burners.
Speaking to Sophie again. “So we have no problems with our buyer?”
“ ‘Problems’? No! None! The Limbergers have loan approval and the people that bought their house were pre-qualified and approved so all three deals are going like, uh, shit through a goose.”
Thinking this funny coming from Sophie. Laughing, “ ‘Like, Shit through a goose’, huh’?” Mitchell repeated.
Stirring the frying matzo as she looked over her shoulder. “What did you say?”
“I said that Sophie said that all three deals are going like ‘shit through a goose’.”
“That’s ‘great’, I think.” Marsha said, dumping the second batch of fried matzos— atop the first batch of fried matzos into a large bowl and placing it on the table.
The no swearing ore dirty word edict still in place .
“Oh, daddy,” Sherry said, “you said a bad word.”
“What did she say?” Sophie asked.
“My daughter said that you said a bad word.”
“Tell her ‘I’m sorry and that I’ll buy her an ice cream cone when you get here. Gotta run now, Mitch.”
“Okay, Sophie. Thanks’ for calling with the good news… Bye.”
Carrying a platter with the sausage to the table. “Come on, kids, breakfasts’ on.”
As usual, Sabra was the first to the table.
Seated now.
All scooping fried matzos. Spearing pork sausage and dumping tablespoons of strawberry jam or pouring maple syrup over the matzos.
“I was thinking that you ought to give Plankow a call to tell him everything’s set for us to move in thirty days.” Marsha suggested. “And to see what mover to call.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that, too… Ed’s usually in the office on Saturday mornings…”
“If the streets are plowed.”
“Yeah, Marcie, but the big streets are always the first to get plowed, so I’ll try calling him soon as we’re finished eating
Hearing a rumbling outside. Rising from the table, Michael rushed to look out the front window.
“Snow plows doing the street.”
“Okay, good! After breakfast we'll head out to look for boxes.”
“Call Plankow before you go, though.”
“Yeah, I planned on that…
“Pass the sausage, will you… Thanks.”
“Sammy...” Marsha scolded “...stop feeding that dog!”
“But she’s hungry!”
Sabra’s muzzle stationary on the table.
Following the conversation, somehow knowing they’re talking about her. Sabra’s – I’m starving, feed me, feed me – pleading eyes shifting from Sammy to Marsha to Sammy and back to Marsha.
“She gets ‘plenty’ to eat and she’s ‘always’ hungry! ‘Stop it’!”
“Awww” In defiance, Sammy shoved a forkful of syrup dripping fried matzo into his mouth.
Sabra’s mournful eyes shifting to Marsha.
Thinking something that she never said aloud… Except when alone with her husband.
Sabra’s mournful eyes shifting to Marsha.
Fuck it! Cutting it in half with the edge of her fork… Fuck it! Marsha Lipensky thought as, taking a half piece of the pork sausage between her fingernails, fed it to Sabra.
*****
“Well...” hanging the receiver onto the cradle “...guess he didn’t make it in today.”
“It’s only ten-fifteen…” at the sink, rinsing the morning’s dishes before placing them into the dishwasher “...maybe he’ll be in later.”
“Yeah, maybe...” draining the last of his coffee “...I’ll call again when we get back.”
With Sabra at her side — no doubt hoping something edible might fall off a dish— loading dishes into the dishwasher, Marsha glanced over her shoulder and, seeing no one was looking in her direction…
“Come here you ‘beast’ ” Kissing the Great Dane between her eyes, Marsha slipped her a left over pork sausage.
****
The Mercury Station Wagon loaded with empty cardboard cartons and stacks of folded cartons acquired from the ‘A&P’ and ‘Jewel Tea Company’ all but impairing their rear vision, snow falling again, the late morning traffic moved slowly.
Motioning to the dreary, snowy scene out the window.“No more of this, huh?”
Glancing at his son, “Yes, no more snowy, slippery streets.”
“It’ll seam strange not having a real winter with snow and all, and I think maybe I’ll miss it.”
“Yeah..” Mitchell replied “...’maybe’.”
Slowing with the flow of traffic. “ ‘Maybe’. But I think it’s something that’ll be pretty easy getting used to.”
“Yeah...” Michael said sadly “...I guess.”
“Know one of the first things we’re going to do once we get to San Diego?”
“Yeah. Mom told me; to get my driver’s license?”
“You’re due to get it. So you’ll be the first in our family to have a California driver’s license and we’ll take care of that as soon as possible.”
“That’s good...” Michael said with a hint of sarcasm “...I’ll have my license but won’t know where to go with it.”
“Wait till you see it, Mikey. It’s ‘so’ beautiful there!
“You do know we’ll be living only about thirty-five minutes from the ocean… From the beach.”
“Think I can learn to surf?”
“Sure...” stopping for a light “...why not!”
“How’s about school?”
“What do mean?”
“Can I drive to school?”
“The school bus stops on the corner. Or if you want to ride your bike it’s only about three miles.”
Driving on again. “So in answer to your question and seeing as we have only one car, ‘no’.”
Expecting this answer and really not upset by it. “Well…” Michael said “… I wouldn’t want to drive this big boat to school anyway.”
****
The boxes stacked in the basement.
“Sammy, Ellie, Sherry, you kids take a bunch of boxes and ‘really’ neatly, try packing some of the books and toys that you want to take with us. Then with a ‘marker’… You guys have ‘markers’, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Sherry said.
“Sure.” Ellie said.
“Yeah.” Sammy said.
“Okay, when you get the boxes packed, write your name and write ‘books’ or ‘toys’ on each box. Then later I’ll come and tape them closed and we’ll take them back to the basement. Okay?”
11:46 a.m.
Mitchell tried to call Edwin Plankow again, with the same results.
“Guess he didn’t come in today. I’ll call him Monday.”
Next BOW 27: Plankow
