Bird on the Wire: A Few Things I Learned From Paul Lippmann

As for the story there are numerous versions.

The best one though is always the one where you cry.

On Father’s Day two years ago, the pandemic was easing up. We decided to have dinner in the backyard of our house. It was our release from the long lockdown. I wanted Mitsis to join us. My pet bird needed some sun. I needed some sun. My toddler grandson Aleko also wanted him to join us because he understood that Mitsis was part of the family. I moved Mitsis’ heavy cage outside through the kitchen sliding door and placed him near the table we had set with the food. It was a glorious and bright June evening and it all felt so celebratory. Aleko was holding court the way any charming 1 and ¹/₂ year old can, especially one who learns early in his life that he is cherished. My son-in-law was helping while my wife and daughter were also doing things. As usual, however, I was the person in charge, not because they were incompetent, but because I came of age working in Greek family restaurants on the Upper West Side. I had learned many lessons from washing mountains of dishes, to preparing and serving food, and satisfying a cross-section of amazing hustlers, intellectuals, sex workers, and taxi drivers. There was one lesson, however, I did

not learn and that was the one about never trusting your son-in-law with your bird.

For some misdirected reason, the son-in-law opened Mitsis’ cage door to adjust a toy ladder and—well, you can guess the rest—Mitsis flew out and away. With his wings spread wide, he soared majestically higher and higher agains