The Great Husband Hunt by Laurie Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

need,” Uncle Israel said. “I recall when your father changed from Glassman to Glaser. Seems to me that was change enough.”
    “You're wrong, Israel,” Harry said. “You'd be surprised what little things folk pick up on. I have to do this, for my boy's sake.”
    Aunt Fish agreed with Harry and had quite set her heart on becoming a Fairbanks, but Uncle Israel would have none of it.
    “Question,” he challenged her. “What is a herring? What is a carp? What is a turbot? I'll tell you. They are fish. F-I-S-H. A good plain American word. I rest my case.”
    Meanwhile Ma was eyeing me nervously. As well she might.
    “We were thinking of Mink,” she said, “but as Harry pointed out, even Mink has a
ring
to it. So I have settled upon Minton. A very elegant, English name that will serve us well. Poppy Minton! How pretty it sounds. I believe it suits you better than Minkel any day.”
    I allowed her to keep talking until I was sure I understood her meaning. Then I upended tea and seedcake all over her and the Turkish rug.
    “Good,” Harry continued, as though an overturned tea tray was nothing remarkable, “so that's settled. And you'll be interested to hear I've just acquired a little jobbing printers, so your cards and so forth can be changed at advantageous rates.”
    “I'm not changing my name,” I screamed. “I shall always be a Minkel. Always, always. I'd rather be a German than a Minton.”
    It fell to Aunt Fish to slap my face and express loud regrets that I had returned from my afternoon amongst the wild Asiatics of Stanton Street rebellious as well as lousy.
    “Now, now! Nothing's decided yet, Pops,” Uncle Israel called after me as I ran from the room. But it was. Harry had already made moves to change his name to Grace, and wherever Harry led, Ma would follow.
    I hid in Pa's closet and wept. Down in the palor another part of him was being taken from me, and it seemed—perhaps it was the crying affecting my sinuses—but it seemed that his clothes hardly smelled of him anymore.
    “If they do it, Pa,” I whispered into his gray worsted, “I shall change it back to Minkel the moment I'm of age.”
    I did too. And though Honey may have gone to her grave a Grace instead of a Glaser, to this day I address my correspondence with Sherman Ulysses to Mr. S. U. Glaser. He complains and says it causes confusion and inconvenience to the staff of the Pelican Bay Retirement Home, but I tell him, the money he's paying he's entitled to discommode a few people. They're all foreigners anyhow.
    Nineteen fourteen turned into 1915. The Misses Stone continued their work trying to uplift the unfortunate Hebrews, Uncle Israel Fish joined a relief committee and Harry, correctly anticipating a trend for changing disadvantageous names, bought two more printing firms.
    In May the Germans sank the
Lusitania
with the loss of 128 American lives, and Ma and Aunt Fish reviewed their invasion precautions. There was an evacuation plan, involving dollars stuffed inside corsets and a secret address in Cedar Rapids. Iowa was apparently to be given a second chance. Priority of travel was awarded to Honey and to Sherman Ulysses, carrier of the blood of Abe Minkel, if not of his name, and they would be accompanied by Ma. I was to bring up the rear with Aunt Fish. This didn't bother me. Much as I longed to escape the monotony of West 76th Street, a Hun invasion sounded too exciting a prospect to miss.
    In the event, the closest Ma and Honey came to running for port was when the Atlantic fleet was anchored in the Hudson and German agents were caught planning to blow up the guests at a Grand Naval Ball that was to be held on 72nd Street.
    Defeated by the concept of traveling light and traveling fast, Ma was so unable to decide which hats to leave behind that the moment passed. The Germans were deported. The fleet, having danced till dawn, sailed safely away. And I was left, untangling the silks in Ma's embroidery basket, wondering what an