They say the day Aunt Frankie married Uncle Sally was a day that would live in infamy. I’d learned Franklin D. Roosevelt said that when Pearl Harbor was bombed, but no, most of the family, actually, only the uncles, would whistle, smack their wine stained lips, and speculate over the reasons as to why a raven-haired bombshell like Francine Odessa would be interested in a stunad* like Uncle Sally. As for the women in the house? They’d wink at one another.
Uncle Sally might not have been the brightest bulb in the Murano Glass chandelier my Nana had sent specially from Italy as a wedding gift for her caro Salvatore and his gabbagool bride (Nana’s words, not mine), but to Aunt Frankie, Continue reading