The Plots

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	FALL 2008 ISSUE

Dr. Rosalie H. Contino is a second generation Italian-American who resides in Brooklyn, New York. She received a. B.S. in Elementary Education from Fordham University, an M.A. in Educational Theater from New York University, and a Ph. D. in Educational Theater, also from New York University. In addition to teaching elementary and junior high school, and serving as a teaching fellow for the Program in Educational Theater at New York University, Contino has served as a costume designer, costume consultant, and costume lecturer for multiple productions and events. Her plays Transitions in Taking Care of Daddy, Twixt ‘n’ Teen, and Lights Out! received honorable mention from the Writers Digest Playwriting Contest. Lights Out! made quarter finalist from “writers online.”

Mother and the Plots

Mother’s View of Life

One afternoon, my mother came flying in the house all excited. Her perfectly coifed hair was neat and trim as she went to the beauty parlor salon the day before.

"Wait until you see what I bought!"

You have to understand that when my mother came home, she just didn’t sit and tell me a story. She had to be doing something at the same time like preparing dinner. The pasta pot was already on the stove. As she spoke, she pointed and motioned to the top shelf over clothes dryer to get two cans of tomatoes for the sauce. As I opened them, and strained them, Mom, on the other hand, cut up a few cloves of garlic, reached under sink for the olive oil, and the frying pan. After sautéing the oil and garlic, she added the mixture to the sauce pot, and I added the strained tomatoes. While that cooked on a low flame, she opened the frig, took out a tray of meatballs and pulled the frying pan from the bottom shelf, of the stove, added some oil and began frying away. She didn’t miss a beat as she continued her story.

So," I said, "what’s the scoop? What did you buy?"

"Six," she said calmly, "six."

My ears perked up. What could she mean by six - earrings, bracelet, necklaces? She loved to buy pieces of jewelry, modern or antique. The meatballs were beginning to smell, as usual, delicious.

"What six did you buy?"

"Plots."

"Plots? What are taking about?" the only plots I knew had to do with novels, stories. She rapped my hand as I tried to steal a piece of meatball that looked as if it was done. That gesture mean, "not done."

"Six cemetery plots," she sighed, "in Green Wood Cemetery...

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