PICKING UP EINSTEIN

The first thing I did was go to the bathroom and pencil in my mustache
for the third day.  In fact I was growing more skillful in the
drawing each day, and this day I could almost imagine I looked more
natural with the mustache than without.  As I had expected, people
were rapidly accepting it.  Maybe they thought after they laughed at
me all day Monday that I would give in to them, but when I came back
with one on Tuesday they saw they would grow tired of the whole thing
before I would.

Mom, on the other hand, was not yet resigned to my new look.  "For
heaven's sake, Alfie.  Don't try my patience today!"  Wearing her
prettiest cotton dress, her makeup on already, she was striding about
the house with an "I mean business" determination.  I ignored her.  I
had already explained that I was to be addressed as Alfonso.  "Ciao,
bambino!" I said to Randy, already deposited in his high chair at the
breakfast table.  "Ciao, baffo!" he replied just as I had taught him.
He wagged his big eyes around the house, and had to laugh out loud at
the glory of life and his funny-looking brother.  I downed my
cornflakes rapidly, carefully daubing at my upper lip with a wadded
napkin to avoid smearing.

"Dond'esta papa'?" I asked, and Mother ignored me right back.  I had
already seen clearly that the future of Southern California lay in the
immigrant communities, and I was preparing myself with language and
culture; but I couldn't worry about it if Mom didn't want any part of
it.

In fact I found papa' by following the extension cord out the front
door to the street where he was vacuuming out the Buick.  "Buenos
dias, Alfonso," he called, cutting off the vacuum.  Pop had decided
early on to play along with me, a strategy which didn't win him any
points with Mom.  "Afraid Big Al will get a piece of lint on his butt?"
I asked him.

"Hm, hm.  Well Mary reminded me I've been meaning to get the car
cleaned up for a while."  I wasn't the only one he played along with.
Just then Mom's purposeful stride brought her to the door to see why
Dad had stopped vacuuming.  "You be back by 4:00, Alfie.  And wash
that lip off before you come home!  I won't have the professor see you
looking like that."  And off she stormed.

"Is the old man coming here?" I asked.

"We'll see," said Dad, shaking his head.  "Your mother said I might
invite him over for afternoon tea."

"Afternoon _tea_?" I asked, and we both started to giggle.  "For
cripes sake, Mom's been reading too many women's magazines!"

"That's enough out of you," Pop said, still laughing, and swatted me
on the seat.  I hopped on my bike and set out.

It was a perfect sunny morning in Pasadena, as in fact every morning
was in those days.  I rode my bike past all the perfect white houses,
with the perfect green lawns and shiny new automobiles out front, and
I felt myself suffocating.  I began to long for the sight of litter.
I headed across Colorado Boulevard to the barrio.  Dirt yards with
dirty ninos playing, wire fences with chickens in back.  I caught
sight of Miguel heading up Villa.  Miguel, on whose real mustache I had
modeled my pencilled one.  "Que tal, Alfonso," he called.  I blurted
out what I had planned to keep to myself all day.  "So my old man's
picking up that fag Einstein at the airport today."

			  *       *       *

At 4:15 I paused on the porch and with an unsteady hand tried to touch
up my mustache.  I could smell an apple pie from within the house, and
I heard my whole family laughing hysterically.  I pushed the door
open.  "Alfie!" my mother cried affectionately.  "Come hear your
father's stories!"  The pretty dress and the makeup were sagging, and
suddenly Mom seemed much older than I had ever noticed, and prettier.

"So where's Herr Doktor?" I asked, being led to Mama's chair.
"Meetings at Caltech all day," Pop said.  "But we're all invited to
Bacher's for the reception at 8:00."

Mother stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders.  "I vould never
haf considered that possibility," Randy declared, the punch line to
the story Father had been telling them, the story we would tell each
other for years, and we all burst out laughing.  I saw Mother daubing
the tears from the corner of her eye.