Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Forty

It seemed like I had just gone into a deep sleep—and there was a dream about something, but I wasn't sure exactly what. I don't remember these things too well, but what I do remember was a feeling of warmth, like I was bathed in vat of warm chocolate pudding. Nonetheless, the phone awakened me.

It seemed way too early. I thought it might have only been twenty minutes since I hung up with Kate. In a sleep-deprived daze, I looked at the clock before I picked up the phone. It was 10:30 a.m.—time to wake up. I had an hour to shave, shower, dress, and get to the telethon by 11:30 for my rehearsals.

Telethon morning for me. Christmas morning for the majority of the world. And movie morning for us Jews. Something I've noticed in the past several years is more and more gentiles are experiencing what used to be a Jewish tradition. Yet another tradition the Jews are known for—seeing movies on Christmas day.

"So what time are you picking me up? Or are you going to be so tacky as to ask me to meet you somewhere?"

It was Liz, and it was early. As a matter of fact, it seemed too early for a dose of Liz.

"Good morning, Liz."

"Ooh, there's that sexy voice again."

"I thought you had a family thing most of the day."

"I do, but you can come by and pick me up at least."

What have I done? I'm back on the Liz merry-go-round.

"Here's the deal, Liz. I've got to be at this telethon in an hour ..."

"So, it was a good thing that I called ... to wake your fat ass up," Liz said.

"Yeah, it was a good thing that you called ... so the telethon lasts most of the day, and I'll be cutting it close to get to Helena Storm's as it is, so maybe we should meet there ... or you could come by the telethon. It's just I'm not sure where at the telethon to tell you to go."

"How hard could it be? I ask for the piano guy, Sam Greene."

"You just need to let me know what you want to do ..."

"You know what, Sam. You're not making this very fun. You ask me out on Christmas, and then you make it hard to hook up with you. What's that about?"

"First of all, it's not like it's that kind of a date, Liz. Think of it as two friends getting together to share a moment."

"And what kind of moment would we be sharing?"

I had no idea where this conversation was leading, but what I did know was I didn't want to be a part of it.

"Liz, I need to be at the telethon in fifty minutes. That's not much time for me to get ready ..."

"You should've thought of that before you decided to sleep in. Were you out late again last night?"

"Liz, please. Simply let me know if you're going to meet me at the telethon or the party ... and we'll have plenty of time to argue then. OK?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like a lot more fun ... you asshole ... I should just stay at my mom's and flirt with Pastor Tom. It's always fun to get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean ..."

By now, I was naked and standing in the bathroom. I certainly wasn't about to tell that to Liz, because she might get a rise out of me. There was no time for a shower, so I needed to wash and wet my hair in the sink—a cure for severe bedhead. But first, I had to get Liz off the phone.

"I need to hang up, so if you can't tell me now, call me later, and leave word on the machine, OK? I gotta go."

"You're naked, aren't you?"

"I'm hanging up." Damn it, how did she know?

I hadn't looked at my naked body for a while. There was really no reason to be naked lately, other than the daily routine of showering and changing clothes. And I certainly didn't make it a habit to inspect my naked body. Although, I remember reading this article in GQ or Esquire, or one of those so-called "men's" magazines, about knowing your body and loving it for what it is. It is your temple, and it is you, and as you study your body, and become more and more familiar with it, you become more and more powerful in the world. I don't think I was able to finish the article, because that's really all I remember about it. The fact that it was not only OK to look at one's body, but encouraged for a more self-actualized life, was all I took away from the article. That, and the headline: you are more than your penis.

But the truth of the matter is, a boy finds his penis at a very young age, and once he does, it's all over—he's got a friend for life. So I'm thinking, guys are real familiar with their penises and probably pretty comfortable with that. But penis aside, as I looked at myself, I felt like I didn't know who I was looking at. And it's not like I wanted to get to know myself right then and there, but it was more like all of a sudden, Sam Greene was someone different. And normally, at that point, looking at myself naked and not knowing who I was looking at, I'd have an anxiety attack, but it didn't happen. As a matter of fact, for some reason certainly beyond any explanation of mine, I found myself a bit aroused.

With no time to address my arousal, I did a quick sink-wash of the parts that are most likely to get stinky. After I conquered the potentially stinky parts, it was time to address my hair. As I bent under the sink and guided the water over my head, the fucking phone rang, or beeped, or whatever sound it makes ... So, with a wet head, an erect penis, and an attitude, I answered the phone.

"What!"

"Oooh, somebody doesn't want to be on the phone."

"Kate?"

"Yeah. Is this a bad time?"

"I'm just trying to get ready for this stupid telethon."

"Well, I'll let you go. I just wanted to thank you again for talking to me last night."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I just didn't know you were such a good listener."

"I didn't either ... it must've been the company ..."

"That was sweet ..."

Damn, I did it again.

"So anyway, have fun today. Raise lots of money. By the way, what's the telethon for?" Kate asked.

I was half-dry when I stopped to think about what she just asked. It occurred to me, I had no idea what the telethon was for. Was it for children? Was it some hokey thing to raise money for injured reindeer? Or was there really no telethon, but simply an elaborate hoax Max dreamed up to get back at me for getting mad at him.

"Kate, I think what you'll find with me, is I don't discriminate. What ever the cause may be, I'm there. Selfless Sam, the piano man. That's what they call me."

"In other words, you have no idea what the hell it's for."

"In other words, yes, I don't know."