There is this painting in my mom’s house. It is painted by Edna Hibel. It is of two adults and two children, both girls. I assumed, always, growing up, that this painting was of my mom and dad and me and my sister. I couldn’t understand why my mother continued to keep it hanging on the wall after she and my dad divorced. Obviously, I never asked her about it. The first time the husband came to visit me at my mom’s house, while he was still merely the boyfriend, he took one look at the painting and said, “why does your mom have a painting of Richard Gere in her house?” WHAT? Richard Gere?!?! No way, I set him straight, that was my dad. and my mom. and me. and my sister.
which of course, led to years and years of laughter at my expense. and led to an interesting conversation this week. We had discovered another Hibel, but this time it was at my dad’s house.
“Hey, Ali, is your dad in this one too?”
“No, husband, my dad isn’t in this one. and either is Richard Gere. This time it’s John Travolta.”
“Come on, you don’t see it?”
“Apparently, Miss Edna Hibel was a, you know, star fucker…”
“I LOVE it!”