“STOP TALKING DAD, YOU’RE KILLING ME!”

Dad and I had a great relationship. Often, we would go to see grandma who lived in Brooklyn and the long drive from Long Island was always filled with conversations about his life. I particularly listened hard to these wonderful stories because they allowed me into his past however so limited.

One day in the 60s as we drove along the Southern State Parkway, Dad actually put on the radio, something he was loath to do since his old car, bought third hand, would “Wear out my battery.” The rage of the day was Lo Monte and he was singing his ‘Shiek of Araby.’

Well I'm the sheik of Araby
Your love belongs to me
Well at night when you're asleep
Into your tent, I'll creep
The stars that shine above
Will light our way to love
You'll rule this world with me
I'm the sheik of Araby

Sono Sheik di Araby…

Suddenly Dad started to chuckle and I knew something new and interesting was coming. As he gently coaxed the steering wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead as in a trance he started as he always did with “You know…” and then the revelation.

“You know Grandma was in love with that guy!”
“Lou Monte!”
“No, the Sheik… Rudolph Valentino!”

This came as a shock to me as I envisioned Grandma with her floral apron and black dress, her fingers smelling like a good cheese from Italy and her religious medals adorned on her clothing as she pinched Rudolph’s cheeks.

“Grandma would get on the ticket line at the movie theater to see his movies. She would swoon just like these crazy teenagers today!”

“Dad! I don’t believe you, I’m sorry that is not possible! What did grandpa say about all this?”

“Grandpa? He was happy she went to the movies, he got a nap in.”