Lila is a partisan of Deutsches Fuusball...what we call 'soccer.' The German team, which had seemed to have played only barely well enough at any time to advance in the EURO-Cup tournament, were defeated today, 1-nil, on an early goal by the baby-faced Spaniard, Torres. Last evening when she called, we were chatting, kinda like old times, about this and that and about the Euro Cup. Then she got another call (I am growing gradually to detest 'call-waiting').
It was her brother, in Germany, calling--as it turned out--to tell her of the passing of her old (90 years) God-mother. Europeans of Lila's (and my) generation, and earlier, put a lot of store in the relationship between God-parents and God-children. All that "It takes a village" stuff. They really were, in many cases, alternative families. I do not know if this was so of Lila's God-mother, but she told me later, when she called briefly back, that they had been close. At that time, she didn't want to talk.
Her voice sounded strained. The radiation's causing a lot of discomfort in her throat, especially when she swallows. She can no longer tolerate anything but room-temperature foods or liquids--and nothing spicy. Nothing hot, nothing cold, nothing carbonated. This too should pass, so I have a 12-pack of Weisse-bier, and a couple of bottles of champagne just for her next visit.
Ceteris paribus, we were watching the soccer game together today--though 1500 miles apart, she with her kids, and me with a dog. It was a pretty good game. Sad for the Germans that they lost. There's an old soccer saying: "Soccer is 22 men chasing a ball around for 90-plus minutes. Then Germany win." Today, it was Spain, taking their first EURO-Cup trophy in 44 years.
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