Scene 6: Dinner at Moena’s
Leah: Okay, Grandpa. I’m ready to eat some good Italian food.
Grandpa: You, my dear, are in luck. One of the best Italian restaurants is across the river on Market Street. It was Uncle Phil’s favorite—Moena’s.
Leah: What’s your favorite dish?
Grandpa: It was your grandma, but now I think it’s the veal parmesan. Fabulous.
Leah: You know that’s a sexist thing to say nowadays, Grandpa.
Grandpa: I said it anachronistically, Leah.
Leah: I’m not even gonna ask what you mean. Let’s go. Mom told me to keep a short leash on you.
[Five minutes later they arrive at Moena’s. Frank is warmly greeted by the grandkids of the original owners. They make a big deal over Leah.]
Gina: Oh, Frankie, she looks like Hope at the same age.
Grandpa: You think she’s that pretty?
Leah rolls her eyes as if to say “Impossible!” in any language.
Gina: [False scolding tone] Never tease a woman about her looks, Frankie.
Grandpa: Gina, I love her just as she is.
Gina: That’s better. Don’t be un burlone scherzoso.
Leah: What’s that?
Gina: In Italian it means ‘a teasing jokester’
Leah: Yep, that’s about right. Grandpa says your restaurant is as good as any New York City Italian bistro.
Gina: True!! If you ever wanna comma back here, Honey, you ah say the samma thing. Si?
Leah: Si.
Grandpa: May we sit by the window, Gina? This is sort of my nostalgia tour, and I’d like to show Leah as much of Market Street life as I can.
Gina: Sure, Frankie. Come with me now.
[Seated. Smiling at the menu and one another.]
Leah: Grandpa, I love it!! The town, the B & B, this place. It just feels so cozy and familiar. Why didn’t we come hear years ago?
Grandpa: Well, you guys were out west, and when you got back you were into every sport, club, and activity on earth. Then that magnet high/ prep school. Let’s see then there was Mikey, Eduardo, Vince….
Leah: Okay, I had a few admirers.
Grandpa: and college in Miami. I’m not complaining, Honey, but choices necessitate exclusions. Maybe it was just supposed to be now? How about that? You know, destiny?
Leah: [Sighs] I don’t know, Grandpa. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve had a blessed life. Travel, skiing, music and voice lessons, the works. But this is like time travel for me. I can’t wait to see Grandma’s house and folks who knew her too.
Grandpa: Good. I’m glad you’re on the same page with me. I was afraid you’d be politely bored.
Leah: No way! I’m soaking up John Prine while soaking in a jacuzzi in Scarlett O’hara’s bedroom. This is awesome!! You know “Please Don’t Bury Me”?
Grandpa: Of course…. “down in that cold, cold ground. No I’d druther have’m cut me up and pass me all around. Throw my brain in a hurricane….
Leah: Grandpa! Show some decorum.
Grandpa: Okay, how’s this? [Simply smiles at her for a long minute, and she returns the smile, reaches for his hand.]
Leah: I love you, Grandpa.
Grandpa: I love you too, Sweetheart.
Leah: Even though I’m a pickle butt?
Grandpa: Especially since you’re such a pickle butt. [Stares out the window.]
Leah: You’re looking at those hero flags again. Do you know some of those guys?
Grandpa: See that one across the street before the corner?
Leah: Uh huh.
Grandpa: That’s my Uncle Phil.
Leah: Oh! Gosh, I don’t know what to say. You must be proud of him.
Grandpa: Absolutely, it’s just this war carnage that tears a hole in my heart. He survived World War II, but lots of other guys did not come back alive… Korea, ‘Nam, Iraq, Afghanistan. Pointless annihilation.
Leah: I’m coming to see how you must feel. Do you know any of the others?
Grandpa: I sure do. I’ll point them out after dinner.
Leah: I’d like that. Tell me about them first, though so I have some frame to place them in.
Grandpa: Honey, it’s not a pretty tale. No matter how you tell stories of war, they are not glorious, righteous, or beautiful. They are tragic.
Leah: I can handle tragedy. Remember? I’m one eighth Irish, I think. Anyway, I’m full Italian now. Let’s eat.
Grandpa: That veal is calling my name. How about you?
Leah: The ziti with prosciutto sounds heavenly. Um, think we can have a toast to Grandma?
Grandpa: That requires wine, Honey.
Leah: Duh! How about the chianti?
Grandpa: I’m not allowed, remember? Your mom has turned into my jailer.
Leah: Just one glass, okay? Our secret.
Grandpa: [Smiles widely] I like sharing secrets with you. And I have a ton of them to share.
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