My mother had a unique sense of humor. When things were darkest she always found something that struck a note of laughter, even under the worst of conditions. She went through life with a smile on her lips, even when she didn't feel like laughing.

When she wrote 'Arabian Nightmares", she was recovering from a recent severe illness that almost claimed her life. In December of 1968 my mother passed away quite suddenly.

This short piece she wrote was sent to me while I was in Hue, Vietnam. It is one of the memories I have of my mother - a happy one.

I was not completely prepared, but then no one ever is when they are expecting house guests. Be that as it may, I certainly was shocked to see a huge Mayflower moving van in my driveway at 7:00 A.M. on Monday morning. My eyes almost dropped when I saw the cattle truck coming up the road. The last straw was when two Volkswagen buses just loaded with people drove up. It seems the Arab has seven wives, not seven children. They just brought 20 of the children. (The smallest were left at home with nurses.)

They brought tents and equipment which they proceeded to set-up on all the lawns in the immediate neighborhood. They dug a barbecue pit in the front yard and started roasting two white sheep, four goats, and assorted other odd dishes. The camels ate all the fruit off the trees in the back yard. The goats ate all the rose bushes in the neighborhood, and the sheep have eaten all the grass within a radius of six blocks. The 20 children went over to Drug Fair for ice cream cones. Then they proceeded to Mayfair Market and adjacent stores.

What a mad, mad time.- Someone turned in a false alarm, and the fire trucks came roaring up to the barbecue pits. Oh, you should have been here!

Arabs, police, (they came with tear gas and riot-guns) firemen, camels, sheep, goats, kids, bickering wives, and one old grandmother. Everyone was milling around and no one could understand any of the excited Arabians. The UN sent over an interpreter. By the time he arrived there was a huge crowd on hand. Traffic was backed up on Olive, clear over to Fresno Street. Blackstone was a traffic jam from Divisedero Street to Shields Avenue. Abby Street was bottle-necked from Belmont to Shakey's Pizza Parlor. The C.H.P. was busy that day.

The Mayor came and gave the keys to the city to the Sheik. The police dispersed, the crowd. The sheep and goats were eaten. The camels were still at-large having a hey-day among the fruit trees. Finally, everyone was bedded down for the night. Needless to say., I had a raging head-ache, so I took three empirin and went to bed.

On Tuesday morning when I got up everything was quiet. I went outside, and a scene of desolation greeted me. The Arabians had packed all their tents, live stock, etc., and had all gone up to Uncle John's Restaraunt for breakfast. Needless to say, the area looked like it had been visited by a plague of locusts. Everything green had been eaten by the assorted animals. The three camels were given to me as a gift. My problem is what do I do with three camels?

The neighbors have formed a committee and are coming to see me on Friday. I wonder, have I really helped peole feel more friendly around the world?

P.S. The neighbors sounded perturbed, also upset.

P.P.S. I just discovered the old grandmother. She was sitting in the hall cupboard with a shawl over her head. What do I do now? One of the-camels just had a baby. Four camels and an ancient Arabian grandmother are just too much. All she eats is yogurt made from camels milk. Can you picture me milking a camel???