Last night was opera night at Casa Bella. We sat at our usual table with the couple who used to operate the restaurant before their daughter and her husband took over. A new couple joined us. We were seated with the three women on one side of table each one across from her husband. Kate and I were in the middle. The conversation was going on in several directions. At one point, Kate got my attention and asked me to tell her where we live. The woman to her right had asked her, and Kate didn’t know the answer. I said, “Knoxville,” but she wanted to know the part of Knoxville. I told her. The conversation continued. Then Kate wanted to know where she is from, that is, her original home. At that time, the person to her right was talking diagonally across the table to the person on my right. I looked at Kate and asked her to wait just a minute in order not to interrupt them. Kate was frustrated. When she wants something, she wants it right then. In a loud voice she said, “Richard, where am I from?” It wasn’t loud enough to be heard around the room where the rest of the crowd was involved in their own conversations; however, it was obvious to each of us seated at our table. I told her Fort Worth. Since the man to my left had a friend in Fort Worth, that opened another conversation. We went on without showing any sign of Kate’s outburst. It would have been a good time for one of the cards I am having printed just for this purpose. They will arrive sometime next week. That’s good. We could be reaching the time where they might come in handy.
