Welcome to the Party

It was a Friday afternoon and I was exhausted from the usual work week nonsense. All of us agreed to go to the local Irish pub after work for some Irish car bombs. It was a running joke in the office as most are either from Irish or English backgrounds. Literally it meant a shot of Baileys dropped into a pint of beer. You can only do so many before the room starts spinning. Everyone at least has two, then the verbal fights break out, calm verbal fights, masked behind some corporate correctness.

The pub was located across the suburb-office-stripmall-land to the other side of the suburb-office-stripmall land. Traffic was an absolute nightmare at 6 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, a balmy 69 degrees and the sun shining. Although I could see the top of the pub on the hill, it would take at least 25 minutes for traffic to allow me to order and receive my car bomb.

I couldn’t wait to get there.

My cell phone rang. “Sweetums!” My dad sang out. “What do you say?”

I have exactly twelve memories of my dad while my parents were still married. They are foggy but they are there. Things like birthday parties and his telling me about how wonderful spiders are while we watched one spin a web so carefully on the back porch. He left my mother when I was 6 and my brother 8. I don’t know if his leaving did more good than harm. I am always left struggling for words when I speak to him. He is to this day one of the strangest people I know.

I could tell my dad had been enjoying his Friday cocktail hour already. “Havenn a little vinno” my father slurred slightly. “Well good for you” I said wanting to toss the phone out the window. “WeEELL I have been doing some research..” I shifted in my seat. “TURNS out OUR relatives - in Germany -THE ZIESSES sold their camera lens company to the Nazis during World War II”

What an opener, even for him. “What?, Dad come on...” I whined. He swooped in. “Nope! You got it, our family -- our ancestors were compliant ..even lets say..hospitible to the Nazis during the second World War.” A car horn beeped behind me. “What?” I said, shocked. “What are you saying?”

Dad went on, “What I am saying is...our family, your ancesters...were profiting ...off the Nazi Regime ...in World War Two.”

“What would the Nazis want with a camera company, Dad?” I begged.

“Lenses for their rifle scopes!!” He chirped.

I suddenly really needed that car bomb. My father has always had a flair for the dramatic. I took a breath and told myself it was nonsense. “Come on dad, I am in traffic.. what are you telling me?”

“What I am saying is that you and Hitler could have been cousins!” He shouted.

“Cousins?” I panted, then I struck back. I wasn’t going to let him get me. “Great!” I said “I’ll invite the Nazis to go to summer camp with us”

“Heard they got a few camps open!” Dad shot back. Another car horn.

“Well so much for the Senate” I whispered.

“Yes, you know, if you’re serious, you could have gone that route.” How loaded was he? “Well you know I am old buddies with the Coutiers and the Behars...” He bragged. “Great, more Nazis” I barked.

“Hey listen you can’t deny your heritage, good or bad.” He said.

“I think this is pretty bad, Dad”

“Well at least we are not as bad as your mothers family, hell, one of her great-great Aunts was Hilter’s nanny”

“Dad, stop” I begged.

Then this from him. “You know how she tied his shoes?” “How Dad? I gulped.

“In little knot-zies!” He exploded with laughter.

I hung up the phone.