On Tuesdays, They Played Mah Jongg Read Online Free PDF Page A

she always hoped to be discovered by a big Hollywood producer, whenever one happened to drive down Jefferson Avenue and come to the same intersection where she was waiting for the light to change in her orange, 1979 Ford Fairmont.
    Next to my mother was my godmother, Florence Kennof. All four of Florence’s marriages ended in divorce, so she never had the pleasure of attending a funeral as a widow. Of all my mother’s friends, Florence was my favorite, and she was the opposite of my mother. She was four-foot-eleven with light brown hair that always mirrored whatever style Elizabeth Taylor was wearing at the time. She had a great figure with really large breasts. Florence loved having her picture taken in a bathing suit, and she looked great in one. Sadly, Florence had some serious issues with prescription drugs.
    Florence was also the worst driver among the girls. My mother told me a story about one of the few times she let Florence drive. Florence made a left turn onto Warwick Boulevard, and when she looked in the rearview mirror, she said to my mother, “Look at that crazy bus driver. He is up on the sidewalk,” and my mother responded, “That is because you just ran him off the road!” Her cars always had dents in them, and for some reason, all her accidents happened while she was going in reverse.
    My mother met Florence when they first joined the Temple Rodef Sholom Sisterhood. It was 1952, and Betty Lerner picked them up in her new Oldsmobile. Florence was already in the car when Betty pulled up to my mother’s home. Florence said the first thing she noticed was this tall woman in a very large hat. My mother stepped into the car and realizing her hat was too large, she slumped down in the seat the whole way to the synagogue. They immediately hit it off, laughing during the entire drive.
    When they arrived, they learned that all the newly inducted members of the Sisterhood were to sit at the dais. My mother was seated on one end, and Florence was seated at the other. As they made their way through the buffet line, my mother realized that if she looked down, her hat would tip off balance, so she stood straight up and was careful not to bend her head.
    I am not sure why, but apparently, they served small individual pizzas as the main entrée for the luncheon, which I still find strange, as I would expect kugle, whitefish salad and stuff like that. Since my mother could not look down, she did not notice that her pizza had slipped off her plate at some point between the buffet line and the dais.
    When they returned to their seats, she looked down and saw an empty plate. She looked to the other side of the dais at Florence to get her attention, and when Florence looked her way, my mother mouthed silently, “I lost my pizza.” Florence did not understand what she was saying, so my mother mouthed it again.
    Frustrated, Florence said out loud for everyone to hear, “You lost your what?”
    And, my mother, throwing caution to the wind, said a little too loudly, “I lost my pizza.”
    The room grew silent, and then a well-dressed woman in her 30s, who also happened to be a friend of Florence’s, pulled the pizza out of her own large hat and said, “I found it.” The room burst into laughter, and Hannah made another friend.
    Seated next to Florence at the funeral was Rona, and next to her was Arlene Feld. Arlene was my mother’s fat friend and also the well-dressed woman whose hat caught my mother’s pizza.
    Everyone needs a fat friend. She wasn’t enormous fat, but compared to the sticks my mother and Rona were, she looked rather large. Arlene had reddish brown hair with a blonde streak that she wore in a teased flip that looked a bit dated even then. Regardless of her hair, Arlene looked like an overweight Lucille Ball. When Arlene removed her beige, plastic-framed glasses, one could see that she and Lucy had the same face. Arlene and her husband William owned Feld’s Department Store.
    Next to Arlene was Doreen