Dedicated to my dear mother-in-law.
Hansel* and Gretel* were artists in their late sixties and friends of V's parents. We had never met them so we didn't know what to expect at the opening night of their first West coast show late on a Friday afternoon.
The gallery was packed but we spotted Gretel immediately. Like the colossal cacti in her paintings she towered over the aficionados gathered about her. A striking woman with bangs and champagne tresses tumbling over her ample chest she was a natural for a Wagnerian walk-on at the Met. A little accessorizing would do it--- some chain mail with spear and shield accents along with a horned helmet to top it off. And....wait.... wasn't that "The Ride of the Valkyries" playing in the background?
She was explaining her abiding interest in cacti. These were not your little Cholla cacti or your measly Prickly Pears but rather giant Saguaros. Giant tumescent Saguaros which were indeed "catch eye" as our friend from Taiwan would say. They were so remarkable we wondered if they were in some way a response to Georgia O'Keefe's signature works featuring certain aspects of the female anatomy. I thought of the lush purple morning glory by O'Keefe hanging in our doctor's office beside his anatomical chart of the lymphatic system. So detailed in depicting the portal to the female re-productive system is this flower that it no doubt is quite helpful during OBGYN consultations. Ms. O'Keefe of course famously took issue with the persistent observation that she was painting vaginas. We wondered what Gretel would say about her Saguaros.
She was obviously quite engaged with her prospective buyers so we moved on to Hansel's gallery where he was holding forth with a gaggle of admirers. He was Tom Wolfe with a German accent, tiny and trim by Valkyrie standards, with a thatch of white hair resting on his wire rim glasses. Behind him hung large paintings of pastoral scenes--- lush Constable woodlands, Wyeth red barns, van Ruisdael grey skies. In contrast to Gretel's work, his style was purely representational and ran little risk of provoking Freudian analysis.
He seemed pleased when we introduced ourselves and praised his compositions. We then returned to Gretel where during a brief pause in her commentary we squeezed in a quick greetin, "Excuse us, Gretel? We are V and..."
"Oh, V and Chahles, I am so happy to meet you! But just look at all these people! This is so crazy I just don't have time right now. So let's have dinner tonight when this thing is over!"
V and I glanced at each other, "So good to meet you too, Gretel. We've heard so much about you and Hansel from V's parents. About dinner, reservations on a Friday night....we haven't really.....ah....is Hansel...?"
"Of course, he comes too. See you at six o'clock tonight at your house. Just give him the address."
"Well I suppose we..."
"Right, darlings! Wiedersehen!" She was quite captivating so we had little choice.
With no time to spare, we dashed back to Hansel, slipped our address into his pocket, bid a hasty adieu and sped home to prepare a meal.
At precisely 6 o'clock a black Jaguar pulled up in front of the house. First the trunk popped open, then Gretel emerged waving frantically followed by Hansel who scrambled back to the trunk where he began tugging at three huge Samsonite bags, "Hallo, Chahles, you take these, I get the other."
V and I again looked at each other, astonished, "Well, yes, hello Hansel. I guess we didn't quite realize..."
"Yah, you just show me our bedroom. We manage."
Still dazed, I muttered something in very broken German about how kleine the guest Schlafzimmer was.
He immediately unleashed of torrent of Hoch Deutsche, assuming I guess that his hosts would of course understand German. I understood a couple of words, something like "drei Nachten" and "Mittegessen." Was that THREE nights? Overwhelmed, I quickly abandoned the German practicum but couldn't even summon a response in English.
Moments later they emerged from the little guest room rubbing their hands, "So Lieblings, what shall we have for dinner?"
"I thought I would just run up to the store, to get some wild salmon and..."
Hansel, suddenly alarmed, jumped in, "No, no. No salmon! TROUT, Chahles, and for breakfast we have eggs and toast! I come with you."
Ah, this man had clear preferences indeed. I suddenly realized I wasn't up to the task of handling this task singlehandedly. I needed a professional trout and egg wrangler, someone properly schooled in trout selection who had an eye for eggs as well. In fact I was for the first time in my life intimidated just thinking about purchasing eggs for this man. What if I bought white and he wanted brown? He'd want his eggs from cage-free mothers, but would they they need to be vegetarians? And what size, medium, large or extra large? After a moment's reflection I replied, "Of course, Hansel, come along."
To be continued.
*Pseudonym
