On the train ride back, I sat next to a 91-year-old man named Reg Hall who spoke non-stop about his grandchildren, natural remedies (he claims to have cured himself of Lukemia with Viatmin C), and getting old ("after 80 years old, the sex thing stops for men, but I had an 88 year old girlfriend named Mamie who still liked intercourse"). Reg still likes to dance 3 times a week, and he has "Florida in the blood". Every now and then, a piece of something white and mayonaisey became dislodged from his dentures and landed, quivering, on my dress.
I got up to wash all the denture residue from my dress and when I got to the bathroom, who should I see playing bridge on the train but Badam's grandparents Abe and Shush, fresh back from klezmer camp. They were with two other women, one of whom wasTova's grandmother. I pinched myself when I got back to my seat. I looked out the window to calm down. Reg was still babbling to beat the band. He told me the ladies like a fellow to be clean. He puts deodorant on everywhere, including directly on his shirts. He smelled of concentrated talc and absorbine junior, the exact potpourri of my grandparents' bathroom when I was a kid.
The smell was overpowering and made me sad. Today my grandmother would have turned 90.