Frederica

My old friend Freddy who moved last year to secondary city somewhere in the northwest called me late one night to tell me that he was thinking of becoming a woman. Now this was quite a shock. “But why would you want to do that?” I asked. “I mean wasn’t converting to Catholicism and picking up and moving to a secondary city enough for you?” Obviously not. “I want a clean slate ira joel a clean slate, and maybe just maybe my estranged son could love me as Frederica since he doesn’t love me as a father anymore. “What makes you think that? And you think that Joshua would you love you as a transsexual mother? “I’ll be a different sort of mother that’s all.” “I‘ll say.” “You have a beard.” “I’ll cut it off.” “That’s not all you’ll be cutting off” That broke Freddy up, my common obvious jokes always worked well with Freddy. I was the Borscht Belt with an audience of one. To Freddy I was Grossinger's and the Concord Hotel rolled into one, a laugh machine. “What if you change your mind?” “I won’t.” “I never change my mind.” “About anything.” “You should know that.” “Wives, child, friends, step grandkids out the window, I made up my mind to leave all the things that I love and move to this secondary city, dark doubts and all,” “What about your mother Freddy, she can’t even accept your converting to Catholicism.” “To her you’re still a Jew. You were Bar Mitzvahed so you are a Jew.” “She will never get it.” “I really don‘t think Freddy that your mother understands that your sister is a Lesbian, I mean her only reference to a lesbian is Shirley McLaine hanging from the rafters in The Children’s Hour, and do you realize how awful you would look like a woman? If nothing else think about that.” “I don’t know, I think I could be a very handsome woman.”