Subject: L’chaim-“To Life”
Malcolm’s sister Gail called Friday night and asked me
to join them at Club No Minor. When I arrived, Alan Cohn (Malcolm’s
step father) explained to me that after sundown Friday, the period of
mourning had ended and we were to now celebrate Malcolm’s life. So,
with a Blue Margarita in hand we each took turns toasting Malcolm.
The mariachis came to our table and began singing Guantanamera.
We took turns dancing on our chairs. Shake it, Shake it, Shake it-Shirley.
Harold explained to the packed bar that we were celebrating the life
of his son who died the past week. Once they realized that instead of
celebrating a milestone birthday, we were rejoicing over a remarkable
life, everyone in the room raised their beer or blue margarita “To Malcolm”.
Then the room erupted into the Judeo-Mexican equivalent
of a New Orleans funeral parade. We were dancing on chairs and tables
with people who minutes before were strangers. We sang and danced, twisted
and shouted to La Bamba, Hey Baby Que Paso? and Who let the Dogs out?
Security stuck their head in three times but did not shut us down.
Though not physically there, I had the sense that Malcolm
had orchestrated the whole event-doing what he did best, quietly connecting
people who otherwise would not connect. Mary
P.S. Malcolm left his car to his best friend-Victor.
