'62 Kharmann Ghia

'62 Kharmann Ghia

When my father wanted to really embarrass me as a teen, he'd tell my friends that I'm here thanks to the backseat of a '62 Kharmann Ghia, a slightly chilled bottle of red Mateus, and a Mexican twilight. Now that is just the kind of information a painfully shy 17 year old does not need announced at a house party full of guys she's been trying to dodge for two years. Still, the story always makes me grin, even if, between you and me, it's not quite true. Mom was already 3 months along when they decided to drive through Mexico, but for as long as I can remember, they kept an old Mateus bottle in the den as a candle holder.

It wasn't just me that Dad loved to embarrass. He was merciless with Mom, waiting until a clutch of church ladies were all settled in the living room sipping tea and having a very pristine, antiseptically clean visit. That's when he's spring into action, popping his head around the corner with a wicked grin and asking Mom where she kept the candles? When she'd ask why, which she inevitably did because she never seemed to catch onto his hoax, he'd pull out that old Mateus bottle and lustily say: "because we'll need a new one in it for tonight!" He got such a kick out of seeing her face flush bright red and would go into absolute fits of laughter when Mom would sputter: "Oh Bill, STOP."

I loved the shape of that old bottle, stout and flatly round, with spent candle wax dripped down the neck of it. It didn't occur to me until I was much older, that my parents, romantics that they were, used that candle a lot. But it seemed to have only the one baby in it, for I'm an only child... maybe the magic really is in the wine.