My first job was at a Mexican Restaurant, one town over from where I grew up.

When you work in hospitality, you start to realize that some people like to keep a pattern.

Like the transvestites family, for example.

Every Thursday night, the tranny, her mother, her father and her sister/possible lover (all chain smokers; still in the day of smoking inside restaurants) came in for Quesedilla Grandes and green chili plates (the BEST!). And every Saturday night was strictly for the ladies (sorry, Dad).

On one of those Thursday night outings, however, Dad asked me the date, to write in his check book (long ago were the days of check writing…). After informing him it was the second of April, he began to write. And while writing, he sang to himself/to me “April the tooth, it’s April the tooth. Today is April the tooth.”

And for every April the tooth that has come since (circa 1998), I can’t help but think of him. I can still see his perfectly yellow stained cigarette fingertips clearly in my mind.