Lost Spitball

My father claims we were related to Stanley Coveleski – cousins. The brothers that owned the gas station on the corner of Sunbury and Shamokin Streets – they were our cousins. The woman that lived across from St. Ed’s playground – she was a cousin. The guy with the handle-bar mustache - a cousin. The number of cousins that my father claims we have prompts a concern that somewhere along the line there was some accidental inbreeding.

The newspaper delivery-girl stood just inside Mammam’s kitchen door; our silence made the circumstance a little awkward. The longer it took Mammam to find her purse, the more awkward it got. “Mammam, she’s waiting to get paid.” I yelled. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin!” - but she wasn’t. When I called to her a fifth time she interrupted my words with a sudden entrance. “Hey! Looky at what I got!” She was holding a set of rabbit ear antennae – the kind to receive UHF-VHF television channels from inside the house. “How about that!” She extended it toward the delivery-girl and I wasn’t sure if she was offering a closer inspection or an alternative means of payment. The girl took a small step backward toward the closed screen door. Mammam asked, “What the hell do you think somebody’d do with this?” I said, “Mammam, where’d you get that? “ and immediately, “I don’t think she wants that - you need to find your purse.” “Oh yeah , yeah okay.” She set the antennae on the table right in front of me. The one side was half-way retracted and the other fully extended, the thin flat cable attached to it almost reached the floor. She exited the kitchen again to return, surprisingly, almost immediately, with her purse. After some further coaching and a few reiterations of the amount due, the delivery girl was finally able to provide change and leave.

At that time we had already long gotten over any embarrassment Mammam used to cause us – we no longer even tried to explain her behavior to anyone. And we didn’t ask her about it either. When I pulled up to the curb that day to find her outside in 35 degree weather without a coat, I didn’t ask her why she was out, I just ushered her in. Like most days, she was wearing a light blue hat that looked like a turban. She also wore a loose fitting flowery blouse with a small white terry-cloth wash cloth safety-pinned to it at an angle just under her chin. Her sleeves were rolled up and so was one of her pant legs – half way up her shin – the other was down to her foot. Her shoes were a bit too dressy for the occasion – especially considering that the occasion was merely a trip outside to the patch of grass in front of the house.

It was the delivery-girl’s brother that we suspected of stealing from Mammam. His first name ended with a ‘y’ – like Timmy or Jimmy I think. I’m guessing that the baseball with Stanley Coveleski’s signature was among the first things pocketed . It disappeared one day after years perched on top of a silver bud vase in the living room. I've always hoped that Jimmy didn’t know any better and just used it as a regular baseball. I hope it got hit into some over-growth and stayed there for years - until it decayed.