Sunday, October 19, 2014

Finding a Plot?

An open window made it easier for my Uncle Murray to call up, " I've got hot bagels." That was years before the neighborhood changed and no one on the ground floor left a window open. Every Sunday my uncle, an early riser, made his way to the bakery and bought bagels and bialys.

My father only ate bran muffins and while my mother liked bagels she preferred to sleep past 7:00 am on Sunday. If no one responded to his calls he continued walking home. Sometimes I went to the window and he handed me a fresh out of the oven bialy. I ate the warm onions that filled the center first.

My father loved his privacy. My uncle thrived in a busy chaotic environment. Their younger brother Ruby had a wonderful sense of humor. Their sister Rose wanted to sing on the stage, but my grandparents didn't think that was a proper place for a young woman. Rose sang everywhere else.

It's the recipe for family stories-- enough stories to write a book. Plot lines just emanate from every family.

What happened to the remaining bagels in the bag? Did my father ever deviate from bran muffins? Who laughed at Ruby's jokes and why did he tell so many humorous tales? Did Rose every move beyond the rented halls?

The nuggets, perhaps, for NaNoWrMo?

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