As Papa Antonio’s car screeched out of our driveway, I wished I could have left with him, Turning to Jorge, his face, red with anger, looked at me and asked “What are you going to do?” I reminded him that he agreed to half a cow as well, and besides, he is the doctor. “It is just another kind of meat.” I said. Angry as all hell, Jorge went into our library and walked out with a book in hand, soon positioned upright on the kitchen counter, he proceeded to butcher the cow. I, needless to say, returned to my computer, hating any sign of blood, and certainly having no desire to assist in this new endeavor. Although it took him about 15 hours, our kitchen a bloody mess, he did an amazing job, cutting special cuts as the book suggested and putting them all in piles for me to organize into baggies. That I could do. As I piled them into our freezer, Jorge reminded me that our neighbor told him that we must rotate the meat daily since there was too much meat for our freezer having to work overtime to freeze properly. Then Jorge added, “One more cow in this house and I am out of here, you understand.?” Looking upwards to the ceiling, arms stretched high, he repeated the usual question , “God why me?”

Later that day when Papa’s wife calcowled I heard Jorge communicate to her that yes, we do love the tongue and certainly they could have the brains. I understood the message, the head was going to arrive soon. But later that day we were asked to go to Papa Antonio’s house. Happily we went to pick up the parts we desired.. When we arrived I became aware of all the neighbors surrounding a big animal head on a butcher block in the center of their big farm yard. Our smiles vanished upon seeing Papa Antonio’s wife come towards us to greet us with an apron for Jorge and a big farm saw. I knew he was in trouble. As all the neighbors greeted us with big happy smiles followed by cheers of Bravo Bravo Dottore, I was hoping Jorge would stay calm, for I understood the next step. Although fluent in Italian he looked over to me and in perfect English asked, “What the hell do they want me to do?” My answer, “I guess, you are to perform a craniotomy on a cow?” With a forced smile on my face, I begged him in English to hide his anger and try to smile as I was doing and then I added, “You wanted the tongue.” Guess that was the only way we were going to get it. As Jorge sawed away at the skull, working hard with the unsuitable farm saw, the neighbors all shouted together, “Bravo. Bravo Dottore” as Jorge looked up heavenly asking, “ God Why Me?”