February 8, 2020
The next morning instead of going inside, McArdle waited in his car. After a few minutes Larry came out, followed by Kenneth, then Miss Jasmine. She looked elegant, dressed in a pair of black slacks, a flowered blouse, black flats. And her purse.
“Aunt Jasmine, you don’t need your purse. Sam is paying. For the rest of his life.”
“That just applies to Larry. I like to be self-sufficient. And what if I need my ID?”
“You don’t need your ID. You’re a hundred years old, and everybody knows who you are.”
“I’ll take my purse, thank you, and you just move so I can go down these steps by myself. That’s what the rail is for. Self-sufficiency.”
With that Miss Jasmine descended the steps, eight of them. Her purse in her left hand, holding the rail with her right. She moved slowly but walked with confidence. When she reached the house sidewalk to the street, Kenneth walked next to her.
“My balance isn’t great,” she said to McArdle. “I famously fell off the porch once.” Then she looked at the car, a Toyota Prius.
“My, Sam! This is a tiny car; you must be poor. Not much legroom in the back. Jackass, you sit up front.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They didn’t talk much on the way to JHOP, but Miss Jasmine would occasionally note some landmark and observe how it had changed.
When they got to JHOP, Kenneth helped his aunt out. When they went inside, things seemed quiet and uneventful. A hostess showed them to a table, and they sat down. When their server approached, she gave them some menus. Her name tag said Rosemary. She was black. And tall. Then Rosemary recognized Larry. She showed no sign of recognizing Miss Jasmine.
“I know you—you used to work in the state library.”
“That’s right, I was a librarian. I retired.”
“Sir, you look a little young to be retired. And I remember, you weren’t a librarian—you were cleaning the bathrooms. You’re just a custodian!”
Miss Jasmine cleared her throat. “Rosemary. Miss Rosemary. Being a custodian is noble work. Don’t you clean your own toilet?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“And are there people who look down on your social station because you work as a waitress?”
“Yes, ma’am, I think there are some.”
“They think they are better than you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure some of them do.”
“Well then, Miss Rosemary. We came here for breakfast. My mother was a housekeeper. Mopping floors, cleaning toilets, cooking people’s food. I say housekeeping is a noble occupation. Just like waitressing or being a custodian.”
“Yes, ma’am, I agree.”
Just then another man walked to the table. He was the manager and black. In fact, everybody in the restaurant was black except McArdle. The manager was young with braces and looked like a kid. Standing next to Rosemary, he appeared to be easily a head shorter. His name tag said Manager Jackson.
“Rosemary, is there a problem here? Oh my goodness, it’s Miss Jasmine! Miss Jasmine, this is such a privilege to have you here. Is Rosemary treating you all right? Because—”
“Aren’t you Mr. Jackson’s boy? I remember I went to elementary school with your grandfather back in 1926. Then one day he was grown and taking you to the park to play. Now you are grown up. Time does fly. Anyway, I was just getting acquainted with Rosemary. A fine young lady!”
Kenneth almost spit out his coffee and Rosemary looked relieved. Then Manager Jackson turned around and shouted to everybody in the restaurant, “Hey, everybody, Miss Jasmine is here. This is a blessed day!”
People in the restaurant started to look over at their table, whispering with admiration.
Manager Jackson turned back to the table and said, “Now, Miss Jasmine, you and your guests take your time and enjoy. You can stay here all day if you want. And whatever you order, it’s on us! Rosemary, I know you’ll take care of these people. It will be your honor.”
Rosemary smiled. Manager Jackson clicked his heels and walked away, whistling a happy tune.
“What is his first name?” Miss Jasmine asked Rosemary.
“Oh, his first name is Jackson and his last name is Jackson. He’s Jackson Jackson. I’m not sure if he’s got a middle name.”
———
Rosemary brought the food. It was a lot, but Miss Jasmine didn’t see her blueberry pancakes on the tray. “Miss Rosemary,” she asked, “Did you forget my pancakes?” “No, ma’am, Manager Jackson is bringing them. He said it’s your birthday, and he’s bringing you some special pancakes.”
“Well, that is awfully sweet, Rosemary, but today is not my birthday.”
“Well, Miss Jasmine, it might not be your birthday, but today you are getting some special birthday pancakes.”
As Rosemary finished putting the last dish on the table, Manager Jackson was making his way over to the table. He had a plate of pancakes, with ten lit candles. People in the restaurant were looking and saying, “Oh my!”
Manager Jackson stopped about halfway to the table and looked around the room. “C’mon, everybody, today is Miss Jasmine’s birthday. She is one hundred years old! Let’s everybody sing!”
They all started to stand up and sing “Happy Birthday.” When they finished singing, everybody clapped. A standing ovation. Manager Jackson said, “Now, Miss Jasmine, would you please make a wish?”
“Yes. I wish you’d tell me why you are bringing me a cake—birthday pancakes—when it’s not my birthday. Today is February 8. My birthday is February 10.”
“Why that’s my birthday too!” said Jackson Jackson. I can explain about your pancakes, but these candles are melting. Would you mind making a wish and blow them out first?”
Miss Jasmine thought briefly, then leaned in the direction of the pancakes and blew them out.
“Well?”
“Well, Miss Jasmine, I didn’t know exactly when your birthday was, but I know some time back you were in the paper. Your neighborhood threw you a party, and you were going to be one hundred years old! I missed your party, so I thought a few months here, a few months there, today should be your birthday.”
Miss Jasmine giggled. “Well, I am tickled by your kind gesture. Actually, that party was last year. The day after tomorrow I’ll be 101.”
“One hundred and one years old! The day after tomorrow! If you come back then for breakfast, we can have a real party and maybe sing songs and tell stories.”
Miss Jasmine’s eyes were a little wet. “Thank you.”
Jackson said to the room, “She says thank you, everybody!”
Then Miss Jasmine said, “Now, Manager Jackson, may I ask your first name?”
“Why, yes, ma’am. It’s also Jackson. My great-great-grandfather was born in 1920. He’s the one you went to school with, Jackson Jackson. Then my great-grandfather was born in 1940 and started this restaurant. He was Jackson Jackson Jr. Then like that, every twenty years. Another Jackson Jackson.
So, 1960, Jackson Jackson III; 1980, Jackson Jackson IV; and in 2000 me, Jackson Jackson V. A lot of folks call us the Jackson Five.”
He spun around, sang the title words of “I’ll Be There,” then did a pirouette and sang the title words of “I am So Happy.” Then he grinned his braces at the table. Everybody at the table and some at neighboring tables laughed.
Miss Jasmine said, “Now, Mr. Jackson Jackson, may I ask when there will be a Jackson Jackson the sixth?”
“All in due time, Miss Jasmine, all in due time!”
“Well, Mr. Jackson, just now I made a wish, and of course I can’t tell you what it is, or it won’t come true. But I have another wish. I wish that you would bring us one more plate of bacon. They say I’m not supposed to eat bacon, but I’m one hundred years old today in your restaurant, and today I feel like eating some bacon.”
“Yes, ma’am, right away.”
And Jackson Jackson V walked off, clicking his heels and whistling a happy tune.