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9780767921664
Mr. Mario's Downhome Cafe The fluffy scrambled eggs, the buttered toast, the crisp bacon and homefries on the side smell mighty good. I'm feeling mighty good being served this beautiful platter of food by Mr. Mario himself. Meanwhile, though, I've got stuff on my mindmy nephew Patrick, a minister in our church, is torn up because he broke up with Naomi, a black woman rabbi he met back when they were both undergraduates at Harvard. And my son, Andre, is about to marry Nina, an actress and model I don't trust. All this is to explain why Mr. Mario's fluffy eggs, attentive service, and radiant smile mean so much to me. Mario is not a smiling man, but this morning he's happy because I gave him a copy of Jet magazine from back in the seventies with him on the cover. "Lord, have mercy, Albertina," he says, "where in heaven's name did you find this thing?" "Baby," I reply, "I'm going to pray before this delicious food gets cold. Then I'll tell you. You're always welcome to pray with me." "Gotta tend to the grill. Give my best regards to that God of yours. Tell him He's doing a helluva job maintaining world peace and harmony among the races." I ignore Mr. Mario's cynicismI've known the man for yearsand pray.Father, I just love You, I just worship You, I just thank You for being the God that You are. I thank You for the chance to relax this morning and reflect on all that is good in my life. Father, You are what is good in my life. I pray for peace, Father, especially for those who have no peace, for those who don't know You, for those who struggle with temptation and doubt. Grant my son, Andre, wisdom and clarity. Grant me the strength to pray for Nina, my daughterinlawtobe. May my own prejudices be lifted. Deepen my understanding so that, like Jesus, I can meet people where they are, accept them as they are, love them as they are, and help them as You help me. I pray all this in the precious name of Jesus, Amen. Just as I'm about to take my first bite of egg, in walks Justine, my forever friend. I can't say I'm thrilled to see herI was looking forward to a meal by myselfbut I'm not about to hurt her by telling her so. Justine's been through a lot lately. I should know. As her nextdoor neighbor, I hear every detail of her rollercoaster love life. Whoever invented the term "Drama Queen" was thinking of Justine. Justine's wearing a large tent dress adorned with drawings of oversized sunflowers. The design makes her look even larger than she is. She seats herself at my table. "I didn't know you were having breakfast here this morning, Albertina," she says. "How come you didn't invite me to come along?" "It was a spurofthemoment thing, sweetheart," I say. "I didn't know myself until I drove by and decided to stop. I'd been at the hospital visiting parishioners." "What time you get there?" "Six a.m." "That's just about the time I was seeing Johnny Marbee to the door. Have I told you about Johnny?" "Is he the man who works with you at Target?" "The very same. And girlfriend, he was sure working with me last night." I shake my head in wonder. Justine is incorrigible. "Nothing builds up an appetite lJohn, Mable is the author of 'Stay Out of the Kitchen! An Albertina Merci Novel', published 2007 under ISBN 9780767921664 and ISBN 0767921666.
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