I remember thinking that people never really burst into song in real life – you know like in the musicals; in the movies…and it was at that exact point, thinking that, when my father just piped up, out of nowhere, “maria, Maria, MARIA!” each version of the name louder and longer than the one before it. We were all of us sat around the table. Spooning soup and breaking bread. And we weren’t talking about movies or musicals. We weren’t talking about anything related to West Side Story, at least not as far as I recall. And he just nailed it too – piped up and piping off, like a cuckoo clock when the hour is struck. We all dropped our spoons and listened. Then laughed. Applauded a little bit too. There was a second or two of silence. And then we started eating again. None of us have ever talked about it since. It’s never been mentioned.