One Poem by Margaret Duda

 

Sundays with Kate Smith

I could hear Mama’s large knife slicing

the thick roll of thin soup noodle dough

long before I got out of bed. She cut

as she sang with the radio on a ledge above

the Formica table while chunks of chicken,

celery, carrots, tomatoes, and potatoes

swam in the large pot on the stove.

When the slicing stopped, I pretended to sleep,

as Mama came into my bedroom, and whispered

“Wake up, angel, time to get ready for church.”

After helping me dress, we joined Papa for breakfast,

then turned off the stove, sprinkled flour on the noodles

to keep them from sticking together, and drove

to the Hungarian Mass at St. Stephen’s church.

Home again, the war child born in the year

of Pearl Harbour, helped Papa set the table in 1948

as Mama slipped her apron over her head and turned

on the radio to hear Kate Smith’s “Hello Everybody.”

Kate’s strong contralto was the final spice in the aromas

filling the kitchen as Mama gently stirred the soup

since Hungarians believed a woman’s cooking skill

could be judged by the clarity of her chicken broth.

After a few minutes, Mama turned off the stove

beneath the simmering noodles and drained them

as Papa and I danced to “When the Moon Comes

Over the Mountain” until he grabbed Mama, twirling

her around the room until she begged to finish cooking.

The “First Lady of Radio” who never had a music lesson

but recorded over 3,000 songs, six hundred of which

made the Hit Parade, sang on as Mama filled three bowls

with the clear soup and noodles as we took our places.

We said grace in Hungarian, after which Papa added

ketchup to his chicken soup, making it look like paprika.

As Mama cleared away the empty bowls, Papa and I

pretended to fight over the chicken neck we both loved

and finally shared with ketchup and the vegetables.

Fruit crepes topped with powdered sugar ended the meal

as we anxiously waited for the finale when Kate always sang

“God Bless America” written by Irving Berlin before the war.

As it neared, we stood, and Mama and Papa took their places

on either side of me. We put our hands over our hearts

as if the radio was the American flag and tears ran down

my parents’ cheeks as they sang in their Hungarian accents:

“God bless America, land that I love.

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with the light from above.”

Kate Smith always ended the hour-long show with

“Thanks for listening” but we were the grateful ones.

Margaret Duda - Pushcart Prize nominee poet, short story writer, non-fiction author of five books, playwright, and journalist, Margaret Duda's latest book is entitled "I Come from Immigrants" and was published in July of 2023 by Kelsay Books. The 122 page book includes 26 poems, some of her Hungarian immigrant parents, are over 100 years old. The cover is a mourning portrait of her paternal grandmother. Her fine art photographer son Paul designed the cover and prepared the photos for publication.