Saturday, July 30, 2022

Ted Greenwald

Image 1 of 1 for Item #41995 WORD OF MOUTH. Ted GREENWALD.


 I have a pet (it’s probably the family pet), a parakeet from Woolworth’s named Admiral. We leave the cage open, he’d fly out and 

            hang out up on the curtain rods, eventually would light on the edge of a glass of water in front of me, dips a beak in for a drink.

            He lets me hold him, bites me lightly with his beak. Periodically, for no apparent reason, he freaks out, flies around weirdly, 
            jumps around the cage. One morning wake up and he’s lying still on the bottom of the cage, the inside of his throat visible, he got 
            caught between the bars and the perch. He died.














John Hughes on Ted Greenwald

Greenwald is fond of ending blocks of reminiscence with the word ‘anyway.’ The word takes on a variety of value, sometimes dismissive, sometimes a relaxed dissipation of energy after a concentrated effort, sometimes a ball tossed to resume a story, bounce down the page to the next paragraph, flight of steps, hallway or block.

Humor abounds. Greenwald’s early life is informed largely by the movies. From which he learns some things gleaned from the silver screen, practiced in real life, produce dubious results. As, per instance, his take on Broken Arrow:

            One Saturday afternoon, come home after seeing Jeff Chandler in Broken Arrow. He plays Cochise trying to work things out in 
            the Old West, with James Stewart and, lurking Debra Paget, opposed to the idea of compromise by Geronimo, played by Jay
            Silverheels (the real-life Tonto).

            Anyway

            After eating I guess buffalo meat sitting around the campfire Ira Gossel, from Brooklyn, who is Cochise finishes eating with his 
            hands and uses his biceps as a napkin, wiping off the fat rubbing it into his arms, opines how it wards off the chill.

            That night for dinner we have chicken. I pick up a piece, munch away from my hand, finish, put down the bone, proceed to rub 
            the grease from my fingers into my arms, dignified with a thousand mile stare. My parents, everyone at the table, don’t all talk at 
            once, what the hell are you doing. Just rubbing the fat in, I say, it’s good to ward off the chill.

            Go wash. Don’t do that again.

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