Only after he was gone,
His son explained,
Cousin Samy spent
New Year’s Day
Copying slowly by hand
All the dates from the
Prior year calendar into
The current one.
That finally explained
How Samy could remember
To call me on every
Significant date for
Decades, until….
“Hola, gringo!
Vos machst du?”
In his gravelled tobacco’ed voice
“How are you all? Everyone
Else fine?”
Every birthday, every
Anniversary, good and other,
He explained,
“Bis a hundert un tsvantsik!”
Every third or fourth time, he’d tell
Me the story in which I
Had a central part:
Stopping on a hungry whim,
Cousin Samy was often hungry,
By a Mexico DF taco cart,
Bending at the waist,
Holding his tie with his
Left hand,
Taco in his right,
Juice and sauce dripping
Onto the sidewalk,
He grins at me,
“So good, gringo, so good.
Delicious.
But not for your
Gringo belly.”
He sighed with delight,
He explained,
As he took that first bite,
While I witnessed
His belly’s fortitude.
Yea, not for me,
Which spiced up his taco.
Over the years, disorganized,
I might have called him
Once or twice on his
Birthday.
I never recalled
His kid’s.
He’d call every
January fifteenth, and again,
February thirteenth, the birth
And the other day.
“Hello, Dennis.
Just to let you know
I remember.”
“Thanks, Sam. It’s nice to know
Someone else remembers too.”
He’s gone now, as is she.
I imagine him
Showing my ever six-year old
How to bend at the waist
And carefully eat
A heavenly taco
While grinning with glee
As the juice and sauce drip.
26 Tevet
15 January 2026