Johnnie was having trouble adapting to life in America. His pregnant girlfriend had just brought him home from Europe. The family was trying to accept him because a baby was on the way but eventhough he was handsome Johnnie at heart was just a goofy Greek. Even to casual observers his behavior at many times was in apropos.
One day the wife came home to find him cooking little birds on the stove top. She thought maybe he’d bought some quail or squab at a gourmet market. “Johnnie were’d you get the cute little birds?” She asked. “Off the lawn in the backyard. Those stupid songbirds are easy to catch.” Johnnie had been zinging the trusting robins, jays and cardinals that assembled at the birdbath. Johnnie was deadly accurate with a thrown stone.
Johnnie found a job working at a hotel restaurant. He upset all of his coworkers by stealing tables and swiping up tips like a hungry vulture. When confronted he’d start yelling, “The baby, the baby I’ve got to feed my baby.”
It was embarrassing to take him out in public. He’d get drunk, start throwing glasses and breaking plates like the crazy Greek that he was.
I took Johnnie under my wing. We were the same age and he was funny. He ended up at the restaurant where I was the chef, we’d go out after work and I’d keep bar patrons from beating him up. I’d give him a ride home to his wife and kid and she would cook us something to sober Johnnie up. Sometimes I’d spend the night on the couch, especially when I had to be at work in the morning. His wife was pregnant again. I liked their crazy little family.
The last time I saw him he’d just turned 48, the wife was pregnant with his last kid and the doctors had just told him to stop doing cocaine and drinking every night. “They tell me I won’t make it to 50.” “Hell Johnnie,” I answered. “The stupid doctors once told me I wouldn’t make it to 38.” I guess he listened to me because the wife kicked him out about a few months later.
One Easter we were cooking a spring lamb in the side yard on a spit. The neighborhood kids were gathering around watching us baste the beast with rosemary brushes dipped in olive oil, garlic and lemon. “What kind of animal is that?” They asked. “You know that barky dog from up the block?” We answered. The kids ran off screaming.