As the fire roared in the stone arch and the children booped balloons to one another, I looked over at my husband and couldn’t help but remember the night that Papa had told us about the rudest man he’d ever met in his life. But, you see, my Papa was a patient man, and even though this man was so rude, Papa let him have his meal. It would be the only time they’d dine together, but the story would last and all of us siblings know it. And all of our children know it; and all of our siblings' children know it; and all of Papa’s siblings; and all of Mama’s siblings know it. As the story goes, it was a night before Christmas and the fire was roaring and the children were booping balloons to one another.
“The first thing he’d do,” Papa would say, and then he would look at one of the siblings and say, “Greg, would you please get your elbows off the table,” and then he’d say, “the first thing he’d do, oh, it was awful. The first thing he’d do was he’d smack his lips. Oh, I remember when we were having horderves, he was eating peanuts and we all knew it and we all knew it was going to be a problem. Mouth wide open. How do you smack your lips when your mouth is wide open? I don’t know but this man did it. And that was just peanuts. The main course was going to be spaghetti. Spaghetti! Oh, you know the sound. Slurp, slurp, slurp.
“So I say to the guy; you know, some people who chew food with their mouth open are not aware that they are doing it. He popped some more peanuts in his mouth, kind of nodded at me. Oh man, I could already hear the spaghetti being slurped into his face. I could already see the sauce flying about, getting on my tie, getting on his tie, but most importantly, getting on my tie. And I told him that maybe a good strategy for any person was to pay attention to how they were chewing just to make sure they weren’t chewing with their mouth open. I told him that you don’t want to smack, slurp, or crunch. Those are the three dinner time no-no’s. Greg, please, elbows off the dinner table.
“And this guy is just throwing the peanuts back. Just slogging them. I was like, whoa, buddy, the peanuts aren’t going anywhere, see, they can’t even get out of the bowl. I said, they don’t have any legs, buddy, enjoy yourself, you’re gonna give yourself an obstruction. And he just kept slogging them. Whole handfuls at a—Greg. Elbows—whole handfuls at a time.
“So I say to the guy, hey bud, are you hearing this? You know, he hadn’t said a word to me. He just stood there nodding, slogging peanuts. And then, with his mouth just loaded, maybe thirty, maybe forty peanuts, he decides is a good time to speak up. You know, little flecks of peanuts are shooting this way and that way. I was like, whoa, buddy, not only is it unpleasant to see the inside of your mouth with all those, what, thirty or forty peanuts? but it also makes the conversation difficult to hear. I said, listen, you don’t want to be talking with all that food in your mouth. Hell, you don’t want to be talking with even a little bit of food in your mouth. And I say to him, and you want to make sure that other people aren’t eating when you talk to them. He has all these peanuts in his mouth, and there’s peanut flecks shooting this way and that way, and I’m imagining him slurping his spaghetti, and he says, ‘so when do you talk?’ but I could barely make it out, of course, on account of the thirty or forty peanuts in his mouth, but I could make it out and so I asked him, ‘what do you mean when do you talk?’ and he says, and he says it like I’m an idiot, right? he says, and he puts his arms out like this and he says, ‘so when do you talk?’ but I could barely make it out because he had just thrown some more peanuts in his mouth. Either way, we finally sit down to the dinner table, and thank gosh, I am on the other side of this guy. Greg, you were a newborn, your elbows didn’t even reach the table yet, and the mashed potatoes were sitting in front of you—yes, we were having mashed potatoes and spaghetti—and this guy just reaches out and—yes, together. Have you never heard of having mashed potatoes and spaghetti before?—he just reached out and took them.
“I couldn’t believe it. Everyone knows that you don’t reach. And from a baby. He took the mashed potatoes away from a baby! So I yell to the other side of the table. I say to the guy that you only reach for something if it is within the physical boundary that each individual has set for themself. If the item you want is not inside of that boundary, you should ask for the item. And he says, ‘what, you want me to ask the baby for some mashed potatoes?’ but I could hardly make it out because this man was just slogging mashed potatoes.
“I was like, whoa, buddy, the mashed potatoes aren’t going anywhere, see, they can’t even get off the plate. I said, how can they go anywhere, buddy, they’ve been smashed to smithereens. And I say to him that maybe he should take smaller bites. I say buddy that can't be good for your health. His cheeks were stuffed with mashed potatoes. I said that it couldn’t be good for your health, having all those potatoes balled up in your mouth. Back then, we didn’t have the science to know, but I told him that it couldn’t be good for his health.
“And before every bite he took, he would blow on it like crazy. He would blow on it and there would still be food in his mouth so it was like he was blowing food back onto his food. But everyone knows that it is incredibly rude to blow on your food. So I say to the guy, maybe if you slow down you won't have to blow on it. Give it a second, you know? It’s not going anywhere. It’s mashed potatoes, they’ve been smashed to smithereens. I said to the guy that maybe you should slow down and maybe you should take smaller bites. You know, it was a dinner party. And there was a baby there. Greg, you were there. And I say to the guy, you know, maybe take smaller bites and then you won't have to blow on it and maybe you could enjoy it a little bit. I say to the guy, you know, maybe this isn’t all about who can eat the food the fastest. And he just looked at me. He looked at me like he had been caught or I had been caught, and his mouth was full of food and we hadn’t even gotten the spaghetti yet.
“And then he got real mad. Real mad. He was spittering and sputtering and there were flecks and there were flakes. Because he got mad. He got real mad. And he still had food in his mouth and he was spittering and sputtering and was saying well this and well that and what if you were invited to a dinner party and I said well, sir, I’ve already had to worry about what happens when the spaghetti sauce gets on my tie, and he kept spittering and sputtering and he was waving his utensils around and I told him, listen, everyone knows that it is rude at a dinner party to wave your utensils around.
“So I say to the guy, buddy, please, just act normal. And he says ‘normal?’ and I say, yeah, normal. And he says, ‘oh yeah, well is this normal’ and he takes a normal-sized bite of his mashed potatoes. So I say to the guy, yeah, just like that, except you take really big bites so for you, that was half a bite. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to take half a bite at dinner. And he says, ‘oh yeah, where’d you hear that one?’ and I said from my Nana and I heard it much clearer from her because her mouth wasn’t full of food.
“We didn’t talk for the rest of the meal. Oh, and Greg, you were adorable. You had spaghetti all over your face. Also, Greg, you have spaghetti all over your face. And, please, just for Papa, could you get your elbows off the table? You’re already wearing a hat. I haven’t said anything about you wearing a hat.”
And as the fire roared from the stone arch and the children booped balloons to each other; and as I looked over to my husband with his hand in his back pocket staring into a space that is likely reserved for men; and as the memories of birth flood me; and as the memories of sleeplessness breach; and as the children grow and as the children wail; and as they ask why why why; and as mama has her cup of wine; and as this house has seen its own many lives, first the addition, then the storm, and then the next addition; and how the kids pick up the crab apples in the back and see if they can throw them into the next row of trees; and how I can throw them into the next row of trees but I decide to keep that joy for myself; and how I started a bonfire once and it almost turned into a regional problem; and how my kids will start a bonfire at some point and it will, most likely, almost turn into a regional problem; and how I take my shoes off at the door; and how I look at my husband, and when I look at my husband, I can think of nothing but the future and of joy, but, also, oddly enough, I can’t help but remember the night that Papa had told us about the rudest man he’d ever met in his life. All of us siblings know it. And all of our children know it; and all of our siblings' children know it; and all of Papa’s siblings; and all of Mama’s siblings know it. As the story goes, it was a night before Christmas and the fire was roaring and the children were booping balloons to one another.
Movie Mondays with Nate:
Due to a lavish garden party that our film critic, Nate, had to attend, we will not be publishing an issue of Movie Mondays with Nate this week. As well as a movie critic, Nate is a garden critic. Among the things he enjoys most about gardens, Nate says, are the sights and the smells. ☆☆☆☆