“So, Mom, about Mother’s Day. I’m sending you—”
“Mother’s Day! Is it that time of the year
already?”
“In a couple of days. So, I wanted to give you a heads-up
because I’m sending you something really interesting that I think you’ll like—”
“It’s not one of those baskets of fruit again, is it?
Because you know much trouble the kiwis give me.”
“Yes, Mom, I’ve got the message. No kiwis, no fruit of
any kind.”
“Or flowers—”
“Yes, I know, the lilies didn’t smell right.”
“However, your brother already sent me a beautiful lemon
tree.”
“How ingenious of him.” And shifty.
“It’s in a pot, Valerie.”
“A pot? What will they think of next? Don’t they normally ship them in a shoe?”
“Ah.” She sighs. “This is the problem when your family
is scattered all over the country.”
“Well, funny you should say that because you are about
to receive a package from a company called . . . Kindred
Knowledge—”
“They’re not clog dancers, are they? You know how much
clog dancing annoys me.”
“Clog dancers? Why would you even . . . no,
of course not. This company does searches for all your living, and deceased,
relatives.”
“Why would I want to have my deceased relatives
pointed out to me?”
“Because, Mom, there may be some you didn’t even know
you had.”
“Well, knowing of their existence now is not going to do
me much good if they have already—”
“Okay, forget them; what about relatives that are
still alive?”
“If they’re still alive, they should have contacted
me, not the other way around.”
I continue, stupidly
undaunted, convinced that lifeless ancestors will outshine Buddy’s citrus tree.
“So,
all you have to do is send Kindred Knowledge a small sample of your DNA, and—”
“Send it? You mean in the mail? Why can’t they
come and collect it in person? In X-Men no one is sending DNA through
the mail.” Wait! When was my mother
watching X-Men? Her favorite movie has always been Casablanca.
“Well,” I scramble, “I believe Wolverine was some kind
of superhero, and wasn’t the point of the movie to get rid of the gene that
causes bad stuff?”
“I’m well aware of that, Valerie.” She is?
“I just thought it might be fun for you to know where
your great-great-great-grandparents originated from—”
“England and Scotland.”
“And if you’ve got a cousin or two living in, say,
Idaho, or Texas? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“For them, maybe.”
I give up.
“Have a wonderful Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, Valerie. I just wish you could smell
this this lemon tree. It’s heavenly.”
“That’s great, Mom.”
“Well, who knows, maybe these Kindred Spirit people of
yours will dig up a third cousin who’s still alive, with a whole lemon grove.”
“Yes!” And perhaps they’ll be hard-core cloggers.
