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worship simply because that state of popularity was higher than theirs. But they would never think of placing themselves in that imagery, and their talk never even considered those who controlled their lives. It was always, hey Rudy, your getting balder by the day, which I could see clearly was the truth, while my mother found it funniest that they could receive such pleasure out of something that only made my father smile because he became the absolute center of attraction in these moments. And they remained only moments, with these kind of remarks jumping from person to person without any kind of listening between them. It all seemed to kindle a kind of roving speech that went around and around the different groups of neighbors and my fathers business friends, and its ultimate laughter would follow me as I circled through the rooms being told what to do, while I tried to make sense of it all. It was the first time my parents had had this many people over to our home, and everybody who had sent me a present was at one time or anouther playing with the toy that was now mine. Whats he doing with my toy, I thought, like I was telling him what he was doing with it. He's fat. Who's that, I like him, I think. My father would juggle too. with oranges. Three crossing with one movement across his hands. In a circle, they went round. And he could dance the soft shoe. Ha-ha. Dancing the soft shoe on the kitchen floor, and I would have him teach me how to juggle. Lace over the dining room table I remember seeing while I was learning to juggle. White. With little designs sort of drooping over the table ends. Naturally I was always dropping the oranges that I insisted that I learn to juggle in the dining room. It was really elegant with wood and milkglass. It was a good place to be juggling. But my father juggled in the kitchen with my mother going, oh Rudy, you're so silly and you're