We’re the Jews who celebrate Christmas. Well, not Christmas exactly. Presents. We’re the Jews who celebrate presents. So on Present Eve, we’re all at my mom’s house: my brother, sister, a couple of our friends, my mom’s friends and the doorbell rings. My little sister goes to get it and when she comes back to the living room she’s accompanied by Patti Smith. Patti Smith smiles, says hi, looks confused.

“I think I’m in the wrong house,” she says.
“Who are you looking for?” one of us asked, as if she might actually have been looking for one of us.
“Alba Clemente?”
“Yeah, wrong house. She’s number ___.”
“Okay, well sorry then.” And then she turned around and left. So, Patti Smith accidentally came over to my mom’s house on Christmas Eve.

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