The Sissy Lindbergh Affair
(A Shannon O’Day Short Story)(1952-‘82)
Alon Or, came to St. Paul, from Jerusalem many years ago. He was old even then, it seemed too many folks who knew him, and he was always old, and he lived to be 101-years old, total. But he was young at heart, spry as a young sparrow with new wings. And he married at the ripe old age of seventy-two, and that was in 1952, had a child, a girl, with a women less than half his age, twenty-two years old. And as we all thought back then, he’s got to be rich, and his wife put all his possessions and property—not sure how much that was, into her name thinking he’d soon die, and she’d inherit it all—that’s how we all thought anyhow, but it wasn’t quite true to the bone marrow, I mean we never really knew if he was rich, and if she did what I just said we heard she did, I mean, it was hearsay. But even before all this, we in the local bars that Shannon O’Day and his brother Gus hung out at, the Conley Island Bar, on St. Peter Street, to be exact, we all know Sissy Lindbergh, she had lived up the block from a few of the fellows in the bar, over in the section of town called The North End, on Granite Street. And those of us who were fathers and grandfathers who had bred children grown up, and had a little in the bank, and land that was paid for, and a car, she could be a ruthless young woman, one our wives wanted us to avoid at all cost, she was after a gold mine for myself, and for those I hung around with we were young fathers getting old but not well off (from tales told about her, she didn’t care if they were white or black or fat or thin, or old, she avoided the young good looking boys, she said they only had one thing to offer, and that one thing, everybody had, and we laughed about that. But again I must say, nobody in the bar ever dated her, so again it was all hearsay and could have even been a play of hers to make us think so, that she was promiscuous—who’s to say?”.
But out of respect for Judge Finley, Sissy being his niece, by way of his sister, and out of consideration for his long, long arm—in stretching the law anywhichway he wanted to, we treated her with kindness, and actually that is how she got her job at the bar, it is as always, who you know. So when Alon Or, showed up one day, one fall, chilly day, we believed it was just an old timer coming in for a drink, and he’d leave, that his life was worn out, he looked it—and we didn’t think he’d take a liking for Sissy an underbred brat, but they hit it off the first night, like white on rice. We were all surprised, no—not quite surprised, maybe dumfounded, yes, we were dumfounded, and in eighteen months, she was found dead, with a life insurance policy of $20,000 dollars, and he had went back to Israel, Jerusalem, apparently dragging that money with him to buy a new café or synagogue or whatever. There was none of us, who felt sorry, or who was sorry, because of the short lived marriage, but the death bothered us, and old Judge Finley was in an unpardonable outrage over it all. I mean, on the day she died it was said—not said, but learned, and then said, among all of us, she actually was crazed over that old man, that hate ridden old man who never smiled but when she poked him in the ribs, buried her faster than an eagle can fly across those cornfields of Gus’. On the day after she died, it was learned also he had already bought his train ticket, and boat ticket back to his home country. It also was leaned—without surprise, learned beyond the Sissy’s grave, the final blow you might say, learned he was already married to some woman in a city called Tiberias, near the Sea of Galilee. I mean, whoever heard of a city called Tiberias, no one in Minnesota, I mean Jerusalem, was—seemingly was, nearly was, another planet to us, and Tiberias was speaking Greek to us. Anyway, how she died no one knew for certain, they said she got a tumor in her brain so we couldn’t blame him for her death, but taking that little girl over to that country, we thought was another planet, was unforgivable. And the judge hired a mediator to deal with the legal part of it, making a formal demand he return the child to its rightful heritage, being an American. And this went on for years, the old man lived to be 101-years old, so you can guess how old the child was when he died, in that city called Tiberias, he died in the early 1980s, and she was in her late twenties.
But back in 1955, doubtless the request had been thrown into the wastebasket, and forgotten by all concerned outside of the United States of America. But Sissy’s grandmother remained intact, in contact that is, with Alon and her granddaughter. It was learned through her that he was—until his death, a good father, and he had no real plan to do what he did—(that his daughter was his only daughter, his wife couldn’t have children) but did it all the same, he was just a cold fish coming into town—he made no defense, refused no request by Sissy’s mother, and the child got to know the grandmother with a kind of a free flow of letters back and froth across the Atlantic, and a phone call every Christmas. And so we said among ourselves, when Alicia, showed up one day at the Conley Island Bar, with her grandmother, we said with only a glance, and taking it to be true, without a word said—watching Alicia move slowly like her father, and those cat like eyes of Sissy’s, “Here comes the fun again Miss Sissy’s back…” and we all yelled and hollered and jumped up and kissed her, and hugged her almost to death, almost breaking those sweet little bones of hers: but now we were as old as Alon was when he had first walked through those doors, and Sissy was so sweet and tender in years like her mother was when she had worked here, and we were all hoping, no not hoping, more like wishing, we were young again and she was like her mother, because now we had that paid for car, and house and money in the bank, but who knows, she’d probably not like that same arrangement her mother liked, and to be frank, we never knew what her mother was really like.
No: 664 (8-6-2010)
(A Shannon O’Day Short Story)(1952-‘82)
Alon Or, came to St. Paul, from Jerusalem many years ago. He was old even then, it seemed too many folks who knew him, and he was always old, and he lived to be 101-years old, total. But he was young at heart, spry as a young sparrow with new wings. And he married at the ripe old age of seventy-two, and that was in 1952, had a child, a girl, with a women less than half his age, twenty-two years old. And as we all thought back then, he’s got to be rich, and his wife put all his possessions and property—not sure how much that was, into her name thinking he’d soon die, and she’d inherit it all—that’s how we all thought anyhow, but it wasn’t quite true to the bone marrow, I mean we never really knew if he was rich, and if she did what I just said we heard she did, I mean, it was hearsay. But even before all this, we in the local bars that Shannon O’Day and his brother Gus hung out at, the Conley Island Bar, on St. Peter Street, to be exact, we all know Sissy Lindbergh, she had lived up the block from a few of the fellows in the bar, over in the section of town called The North End, on Granite Street. And those of us who were fathers and grandfathers who had bred children grown up, and had a little in the bank, and land that was paid for, and a car, she could be a ruthless young woman, one our wives wanted us to avoid at all cost, she was after a gold mine for myself, and for those I hung around with we were young fathers getting old but not well off (from tales told about her, she didn’t care if they were white or black or fat or thin, or old, she avoided the young good looking boys, she said they only had one thing to offer, and that one thing, everybody had, and we laughed about that. But again I must say, nobody in the bar ever dated her, so again it was all hearsay and could have even been a play of hers to make us think so, that she was promiscuous—who’s to say?”.
But out of respect for Judge Finley, Sissy being his niece, by way of his sister, and out of consideration for his long, long arm—in stretching the law anywhichway he wanted to, we treated her with kindness, and actually that is how she got her job at the bar, it is as always, who you know. So when Alon Or, showed up one day, one fall, chilly day, we believed it was just an old timer coming in for a drink, and he’d leave, that his life was worn out, he looked it—and we didn’t think he’d take a liking for Sissy an underbred brat, but they hit it off the first night, like white on rice. We were all surprised, no—not quite surprised, maybe dumfounded, yes, we were dumfounded, and in eighteen months, she was found dead, with a life insurance policy of $20,000 dollars, and he had went back to Israel, Jerusalem, apparently dragging that money with him to buy a new café or synagogue or whatever. There was none of us, who felt sorry, or who was sorry, because of the short lived marriage, but the death bothered us, and old Judge Finley was in an unpardonable outrage over it all. I mean, on the day she died it was said—not said, but learned, and then said, among all of us, she actually was crazed over that old man, that hate ridden old man who never smiled but when she poked him in the ribs, buried her faster than an eagle can fly across those cornfields of Gus’. On the day after she died, it was learned also he had already bought his train ticket, and boat ticket back to his home country. It also was leaned—without surprise, learned beyond the Sissy’s grave, the final blow you might say, learned he was already married to some woman in a city called Tiberias, near the Sea of Galilee. I mean, whoever heard of a city called Tiberias, no one in Minnesota, I mean Jerusalem, was—seemingly was, nearly was, another planet to us, and Tiberias was speaking Greek to us. Anyway, how she died no one knew for certain, they said she got a tumor in her brain so we couldn’t blame him for her death, but taking that little girl over to that country, we thought was another planet, was unforgivable. And the judge hired a mediator to deal with the legal part of it, making a formal demand he return the child to its rightful heritage, being an American. And this went on for years, the old man lived to be 101-years old, so you can guess how old the child was when he died, in that city called Tiberias, he died in the early 1980s, and she was in her late twenties.
But back in 1955, doubtless the request had been thrown into the wastebasket, and forgotten by all concerned outside of the United States of America. But Sissy’s grandmother remained intact, in contact that is, with Alon and her granddaughter. It was learned through her that he was—until his death, a good father, and he had no real plan to do what he did—(that his daughter was his only daughter, his wife couldn’t have children) but did it all the same, he was just a cold fish coming into town—he made no defense, refused no request by Sissy’s mother, and the child got to know the grandmother with a kind of a free flow of letters back and froth across the Atlantic, and a phone call every Christmas. And so we said among ourselves, when Alicia, showed up one day at the Conley Island Bar, with her grandmother, we said with only a glance, and taking it to be true, without a word said—watching Alicia move slowly like her father, and those cat like eyes of Sissy’s, “Here comes the fun again Miss Sissy’s back…” and we all yelled and hollered and jumped up and kissed her, and hugged her almost to death, almost breaking those sweet little bones of hers: but now we were as old as Alon was when he had first walked through those doors, and Sissy was so sweet and tender in years like her mother was when she had worked here, and we were all hoping, no not hoping, more like wishing, we were young again and she was like her mother, because now we had that paid for car, and house and money in the bank, but who knows, she’d probably not like that same arrangement her mother liked, and to be frank, we never knew what her mother was really like.
No: 664 (8-6-2010)
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