To Grandmother's House We Go
I believe that sometimes, hanging out with my family makes me insane. I know I've written some stuff about them before - my Aunt Diane being a purple stringbean on crack, my Aunt Beverly crying - literally - over her bird who left her - again, literally - when she let him fly around independently at the beach (yeah, I'm still trying to figure out the logic behind that one), my sister and brother acting like lunatics, my father's helpful hints... I mean, the list goes on. We're practically the Family Freakshow.
Anyhow, today I was at my grandma's. For a while, it wasn't much fun to go to my grandma's house, because my sister, brother and I just sat around while my dad talked with her. When we were little, it was better because she would make chicken soup. Once in a while, we'd play with some dusty books or her deck of Old Maid cards. Then, as we got older, and the soup disappeared and the books and Old Maid cards got too boring, we'd take turns playing with her hand-held poker machine. This is waaaay before poker became the insane phenomenon that it is now, and she would have this little hand-held device that was just about the best thing ever. I played that thing for hours. (I'm telling you, it was BORING.) Then one day, that machine was gone. So was the fun, actually. For a long time, we basically did nothing, thus leading to the "not much fun" chapter.
And then, we had The Renaissance.
First, my sister and I re-discovered Scrabble. My grandmother and her buddy Saul had been playing this game since it pretty much came out, and she has this classic board that spins and everything. It's probably worth about $200, so it's really nice. Anyway, there's not much to tell about Scrabble except that it led to much better times while visiting, as the four of us - me, my sister, grandma, and Saul - all played Scrabble. And while we enjoyed playing the game (yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I have fun playing Scrabble), what we really discovered was that the matriarch of my family is absolutely certifiable, and the rest of my family, well, they're not that far behind. (And Dad, I mean that in a good way.) So, about halfway through my visit today, I decided that I'd have to record some of the things being said. Just in case anybody ever wonders what I do when I go out with my dad and brother and visit dad's family, here it is:
- We usually stop off at Kelly's, this fast food chain that my father loves. He used to tell everyone that they had the best roast beef sandwiches. I don't know because I don't like roast beef. When I was little, I had a bad experience because I went there with my grandma and Aunt Diane and ordered chicken fingers and they gave me fish sticks. If you know me, you know that this would not have been a happy time. Anyhow, my dad always gets a kick out of the idea that the line for the drive-through is insanely long, while if you go inside, you wait about two seconds to order. Every single time, he notes this. (Actually, he didn't note this today. Hmm.) So my brother waited in the car, and my dad and I went in to get the food. When we come back out, we get in the car, my dad hands me the tray with the drinks, and we start driving. My brother finally pipes up from the backseat. "You get the food?" he asks.
"No," I tell him. "We just went inside and looked around at the decor."
- At lunch, my grandmother breaks some bad news: Saul's car, his beloved Camry, has died. Now, I'm ashamed to admit this, but I used to make the joke that I liked talking to Saul because I liked his car, and given his age... well, there was only so much more driving HE could do in it. And, since the guy bought the car new in like 2000 or so, and basically only drove it to Applebee's, or, if they were REALLY adventurous, the movie theater, it had about .5 miles on it. I treated that car like it was my very own new car, if you really want to know the truth. The guy had no kids and so I tried to be his favorite. (Wow, that looks even worse in print than it sounds.) So you can imagine my sadness when I learned that it had died.
Then, though, I realized that this could present a new opportunity: he could have gotten an even newer, nicer car (Good god print is a harsh medium.). My dad was already asking about what kind of car he was going to get (though probably not for the same reason I would have. But you never know.) So my grandmother tells him that Saul bought a Corolla. A blue, used Corolla.
This causes me to almost choke on my sandwich. It also causes my brother to start laughing almost uncontrollably, because he knows about my Camry plan. This was the least fun part of the day.
(As a side note, much later on, after we'd left Grandma and Saul after dinner, my dad said to me, "Pretty sad about Saul's car, huh? Guess no Camry for you." I give the man credit. He really listens to his kids.)
- This conversation took place:
Grandma: So, how's your social life?
Me: Hoppin'. More importantly, how is YOUR social life?
Grandma: Same.
Me: Hoppin?
Grandma: Hoppin'. Well, Saul and I don't hop anymore. But we do go to dinner at Spud's.
- While retelling a story, I mentioned that a friend of mine had said, "You know, when you get engaged - " and my brother yelled out, "When?!??" as if the real question was "if." I love my brother.
This was only second to his insult later in the day, when he said to me, "I have the perfect 23rd birthday present for you. Do you like cats?"
- At one point, my dad and brother went out to the car, giving me the perfect opportunity to play the classic Doorbell Trick. My grandmother has the buzzer thing, where you have to buzz to be let into the building. Since forever, my sister, brother and I have played this trick on anyone who goes outside while at my grandmother's. The point is to hit the "door" button reallllly fast so that it just buzzes for a split second, making it nearly impossible for the person outside to get to the door handle in time. Usually, this trick barely works because everyone's prepared for it, especially my dad. Usually, he just comes in and shakes his head like his children are losers. (Although, as I just retold the story, it is pretty funny to think about someone who has to time the buzzer and basically grab it really fast so that they can get in on the first try. I mean, what if a neighbor or other visitor stopped in at that moment? High comedy.) Regardless, today I was masterful. When my brother and dad finally arrived, my dad just walked in, shook his head at me in disgust - rather than pity - and muttered something under his breath as he went to take a nap. That was the first hint that this had finally worked. Then my brother walked in behind him. "We got it on the fourth try," he said. This almost made me call my sister, just to share the good news.
Oh, and, this prompted my brother's third insult of the day: "Oh, Elana, the Places You'll Go... to HELL!" He said it with such frusration and disdain... I don't know. Sometimes, I wonder whether this kid is gunning for some award like "Most Times I Acted Like I Was Catatonic." He'd win, hands down.
- "Mmm, I haven't had a pear in years." - Dad, randomly, as he looked at a bowl with a decent looking pear, a bunch of mushy grapes, and a big rotten pear. For the record, he did decline when my grandmother asked if he'd like one, but more importantly, who makes these statements? And you know what? I think he has had a pear in years.
- When Saul arrived later in the afternoon, my dad was still intrigued about Saul's new car, so my grandmother and Saul were telling him about it. I mentioned that the Corolla wasn't a cute car, which made my dad later yell at me because that wasn't a nice thing to tell a new car owner. My brother's one chime-in? "Elana's really good at telling what cars look good, so I'd listen to her." I'm still not sure whether he was sincere or not. If he wasn't, my brother is quickly becoming a master at sarcasm.
Shit.
- Perhaps the comedy climax came during the discussion about where to eat dinner. My brother began by asking my grandmother if she'd been to this new place, Joe's Famous Bar-B-Que. "No," she said, "but it doesn't sound good. They serve beer." Oooooh.
Then, the following conversation took place. If someone had told me this took place, I wouldn't have believed that it was this extreme, but it was, and I know it was because I sat at the table and transcribed the whole thing as it happened, like a maniac. Someday, if I'm ever a famous writer, I hope they find this sheet of notes I made and put it up in a museum or something and label it my "early work."
Michael: Have you ever been to Chevy's (a restaurant down the street)?
Grandma: Kevy's?
Michael: Chevy's.
Grandma: Kevy's.
Michael: CHEVY'S.
Dad, not looking up from the paper: The answer is no.
Michael, ignoring my father and unfazed: Have you ever been to CHEVY'S?
Grandma: Tszchevy's... Kevy's... Chevsky's?
Michael: No. Chevy. Like Chevy Chase?
Grandma: Chase? Have I been...?
Michael: CHEVY'S. It's a restaurant. Down the street.
Dad, looking up from the paper: Michael, the answer is no.
Grandma: Tschevy's? Kevy's?
Michael: Chevy's. As in Chevy Chase. The movie guy.
Grandma: What?
Michael, exasperated: Okay, you haven't been there.
Grandma: Chevy...
Michael writes "Chevy Chase" on a piece of paper, then right under that, "Chevy's" with a double underline: Chevy's.
Dad: Michael, why didn't you just spell it out, rather than waste a whole piece of paper? C-H-E-V-Y-apostrophe-S?
Grandma, reading the paper: Tschevy's? Where?
Michael points to the paper again: Chevy's.
Grandma: Oh. No, I've never been.
Dad shakes his head.
Michael: No? (Again, is he a master of the sarcasm? If so, the kid is borderline genius.)
Grandma: No, I've never been there. Never heard of it. Is it a barbecue?
We ended up going to an Italian restaurant, after we had a "democratic" vote. If the forefathers had seen this display of "democracy," they would have decided to scrap the whole thing and just make a dictatorship. Everyone changed their vote, everyone felt pressured to vote one way, and everyone pretty much didn't give a crap about the outcome (actually, on second thought... this sounds pretty close to the American democratic system. Not bad, family!)
As a postscript on the above conversation, as we drove to the restaurant for dinner, my brother noted, "Oh, you know what? I think Chevy's closed."
- At dinner, my grandmother told us about my grandfather's sandwich shop he owned. My grandfather's name was Edward. He named the shop "Eddie's Sandwich Shop." This about killed my father, who thought the name wasn't original at all. "How'd he come up with THAT one?" he asked my grandmother.
"I don't know," said my grandmother, after legitimately thinking.
- "One in three million Republicans has integrity." Always good to have a random Saul quotation about politics. It's like a Courtney Love TV appearance: you know something insane will be said; the question is simply how outrageous it will be. For a long time, I think my family would argue with Saul about politics, until we all realized that was like arguing with Courtney Love about sobriety: you have a point, she's a lunatic and not sober. She's going to win.
- On the way to dinner, my dad joked about going to Kowloon. Some people love this place. I'm not one of them. In fact, every time I think about it, I want to puke. I had lunch there with my dad a few years ago, when I was coming back to school. I remember my dad got some dish that looked disgusting, and after eating my dinner of Chicken Chow Mein, I remember wanting to die, I felt so sick. In fact, I've never had Chicken Chow Mein since. My dad suggested I get that a few weeks ago, and even by association, I wanted to puke. (Incidentally, this was also the scene that inspired my grandmother to make her most famous comment in the last two decades. One day, while visiting, she told us how she had gone to Kowloon with my aunt. She actually said the following: "Diane and I went to Kowloon. I had the best dinner. It was delicious. Deeelicious, I'm telling you. But oh, I got the worst food poisoning. I was so sick! It was terrible. I'm never going back. But the food, while I was eating it, oh, it was delicious. Deeeelicious!" You can't make this stuff up.) Anyhow, I won't go to Kowloon. My dad and I had a running joke about this for a while, until he went to the dark side and went back and I guess now he loves it. I don't care, I will never go there.
This prompted my father, brother, and I to discuss rules as to whether you can hate somewhere and never go back. My dad wasn't sold on the idea until I said that there were two places that qualified for me: Kowloon, and the Poconos. If you ask me, the Poconos is the equivalent to my experience at Kowloon, right down to the cheesy 70s architecture and decor: when I was there, every place looked disgusting and dilapidated, and I still feel like puking when I think about how boring the whole experience was. I don't care if they build a Poconos Disney, I'm never going back. My father agreed with me, so that was settled.
Then, my brother brought up that we should also be entitled to hating one person. We considered this for a moment, and my dad brought up this girl, R.S. We used to carpool, and on Sundays, my dad was the driver. Well, my father would beep the horn and he would wait for R.S. to come out. That was until R.S. told me - in seventh freakin grade - that she "doesn't respond to beeps." This killed my father. "You basically told her 'fuck you,' didn't you?" asked my brother today.
"Well, I didn't SAY that to her, but I thought it, that's for sure," said my dad.
Just thinking about my dad driving this girl while thinking "fuck you fuck you fuck you" every week makes me laugh.
- "Do you know if you're under five feet tall and over eighteen, you qualify for a handicapped sticker?"
Once again, my brother reminds us that he is always full of useful information.
- Later at dinner, my father and I had a follow-up conversation to an email exchange we had a few weeks ago. He had sent me the following email:
E., My buddy is going to the game tomorrow and has less than desirable seats. He wonders if you have any way to upgrade location. If so, please let him know either by email or on his cell. Thanks, Dad.
This made me respond to my tax-lawyer father:
Dad, My friend is doing her taxes, and she was wondering if you could call up the government and have them reduce the amount she owes. If so, please let her know. Thanks, E.
Anyhow, the point of the email was that I couldn't do anything, and I wasn't that happy that my dad was passing off this question - obvious answer no - to me, when he could have said from the beginning that it wasn't possible. I was explaining this to him tonight at dinner, and he responded, "But then I look like an ass."
"But now I look like the ass."
"Well, that's the way it is."
I'll remember this.
- In a horrible moment, the waitress got insulted (not to her face). She came by and asked if we wanted dessert. She was pretty much trying to up her tip amount all night, because she also repeatedly asked us if we wanted salad, soup, or an appetizer. It was pretty shameless, actually. Anyway, because everyone was full, nobody wanted dessert. She seemed disappointed in this, so my dad asked her, "Well, come on, if you had just eaten all this, would you really want dessert?"
"Yeah," she said, just being nice and all. Then she walked away.
"She looks it!" said my grandmother, right after she left.
This was pretty bad. I mean, even my dad was like, "Ma!" This whole thing reminded me of the time that I was worried about having my heavy friend come over to the house when my grandma and Saul were over, because my grandma had once remarked that someone was a "big girl" and I was really nervous that all shit would break loose and my friend would go home insulted and kill herself. (My grandmother said nothing, neither did Saul, and the girl is still alive.)
So after my dad was shocked, I said to him, "She's not even fat. I mean, you don't agree with her, do you?"
My dad's response? "She could go either way." Verrrry nice. (If he sees this, he's probably going to yell at me for including it. Actually, this entire thing could get me another mailbox warning.)
- On the way home, I was talking about my cousin, who never calls me back. Every time we have a big family gathering, she tells me how we should see more of each other. The last time she did this was at my uncle's funeral. My dad's girlfriend was like, "Yeah, everyone loves everyone at a funeral," which was pretty much right-on. A few months later at my graduation family dinner, her enthusiasm had declined about 150%. But still, she included a nice check with her card, so I figured it was a draw.
I called her about a month later, though, to invite her to dinner and a movie, like we said we were going to do. She, of course, never called me back. (By the way, my cousin is about 35 and married. Her husband always seems nice enough, but the man must think I'm a royal whiner because whenever I see her, I always make fun of her for never calling and going totally AWOL on the family. In fact, I went on and on about this at my graduation dinner. The guy must've been thinking, "I just shelled out a shitload of money on this bitch, and she's yelling at my wife!" He'd have a point. Only he doesn't know the whole back story.)
Well, all of this prompted me to tell my dad that I wasn't going to call her anymore. And the more I thought about it, the more I was annoyed that she always said she wanted to get together but never really followed through. "And," I proclaimed, "I'm not going to accept any more gifts from her, either."
"Don't do that," my dad said. "Just don't go all out with your efforts. Just accept her as she is, when you see her at events, that's all. Don't cut her off."
I thought about this rationale for a minute.
All of this was too much for my brother. "Wait, YOU'RE not accepting GIFTS??!" he asked from the backseat. "What's wrong with you?"
(He was right. All summer long, I'd been talking about how much I like getting gifts. I love gifts. I highly recommend graduating to anyone, if only because of the graduation party windfall. Plus, having a summer birthday, I really cleaned up over the past few months. Because of the amount of giftage, I was becoming pretty greedy and I decided to just go with it, as a joke. I ended up freaking out my mother because I kept talking about the guest list for my graduation party in terms of how much people would give me as a gift. "I'm thinking about inviting my friend X," she'd say. "Is that okay?" My response? "As long as she brings at least $25." "What?" "Consider it a cover charge." I'm telling you, I really scared her. Not to mention that later in the summer, when her rich friend gave me a measly $18 check, I told her that I wrote the thank-you note on ugly stationery AND that I was sarcastic, thanking them for their "very generous" gift. This, I think, was where I crossed the line. It was either here or when I told her that I was mad at her friend for giving me a cooking book instead of cash. It's a toss-up, really.)
"Oh my god," I said, snapping back to reality. "I totally just went insane for a second. I mean, I went insane. I had an out-of-body experience. Me, not accept gifts? What IS wrong with me?!"
"I know!" said my brother. "You seriously just went nuts. I mean, who WERE you?"
And that's when I realized it: after a day with some leading members of the Family Freakshow, nobody's immune to insanity. I mean, I'm not going to go buy a pet bird and bring it to the beach with me any time soon, but still. I caught some crazy today.
This reminds me of a card that my aunt once bought my mom for her birthday. On the front, it shows a family behind a woman, who's kind of separate because she's pictured in the foreground. On the top, it says, "You're someone who stands apart from the rest." And on the inside, there's the punchline: "And in our family, that's a good place to stand."
Sums it up perfectly.
Anyhow, today I was at my grandma's. For a while, it wasn't much fun to go to my grandma's house, because my sister, brother and I just sat around while my dad talked with her. When we were little, it was better because she would make chicken soup. Once in a while, we'd play with some dusty books or her deck of Old Maid cards. Then, as we got older, and the soup disappeared and the books and Old Maid cards got too boring, we'd take turns playing with her hand-held poker machine. This is waaaay before poker became the insane phenomenon that it is now, and she would have this little hand-held device that was just about the best thing ever. I played that thing for hours. (I'm telling you, it was BORING.) Then one day, that machine was gone. So was the fun, actually. For a long time, we basically did nothing, thus leading to the "not much fun" chapter.
And then, we had The Renaissance.
First, my sister and I re-discovered Scrabble. My grandmother and her buddy Saul had been playing this game since it pretty much came out, and she has this classic board that spins and everything. It's probably worth about $200, so it's really nice. Anyway, there's not much to tell about Scrabble except that it led to much better times while visiting, as the four of us - me, my sister, grandma, and Saul - all played Scrabble. And while we enjoyed playing the game (yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I have fun playing Scrabble), what we really discovered was that the matriarch of my family is absolutely certifiable, and the rest of my family, well, they're not that far behind. (And Dad, I mean that in a good way.) So, about halfway through my visit today, I decided that I'd have to record some of the things being said. Just in case anybody ever wonders what I do when I go out with my dad and brother and visit dad's family, here it is:
- We usually stop off at Kelly's, this fast food chain that my father loves. He used to tell everyone that they had the best roast beef sandwiches. I don't know because I don't like roast beef. When I was little, I had a bad experience because I went there with my grandma and Aunt Diane and ordered chicken fingers and they gave me fish sticks. If you know me, you know that this would not have been a happy time. Anyhow, my dad always gets a kick out of the idea that the line for the drive-through is insanely long, while if you go inside, you wait about two seconds to order. Every single time, he notes this. (Actually, he didn't note this today. Hmm.) So my brother waited in the car, and my dad and I went in to get the food. When we come back out, we get in the car, my dad hands me the tray with the drinks, and we start driving. My brother finally pipes up from the backseat. "You get the food?" he asks.
"No," I tell him. "We just went inside and looked around at the decor."
- At lunch, my grandmother breaks some bad news: Saul's car, his beloved Camry, has died. Now, I'm ashamed to admit this, but I used to make the joke that I liked talking to Saul because I liked his car, and given his age... well, there was only so much more driving HE could do in it. And, since the guy bought the car new in like 2000 or so, and basically only drove it to Applebee's, or, if they were REALLY adventurous, the movie theater, it had about .5 miles on it. I treated that car like it was my very own new car, if you really want to know the truth. The guy had no kids and so I tried to be his favorite. (Wow, that looks even worse in print than it sounds.) So you can imagine my sadness when I learned that it had died.
Then, though, I realized that this could present a new opportunity: he could have gotten an even newer, nicer car (Good god print is a harsh medium.). My dad was already asking about what kind of car he was going to get (though probably not for the same reason I would have. But you never know.) So my grandmother tells him that Saul bought a Corolla. A blue, used Corolla.
This causes me to almost choke on my sandwich. It also causes my brother to start laughing almost uncontrollably, because he knows about my Camry plan. This was the least fun part of the day.
(As a side note, much later on, after we'd left Grandma and Saul after dinner, my dad said to me, "Pretty sad about Saul's car, huh? Guess no Camry for you." I give the man credit. He really listens to his kids.)
- This conversation took place:
Grandma: So, how's your social life?
Me: Hoppin'. More importantly, how is YOUR social life?
Grandma: Same.
Me: Hoppin?
Grandma: Hoppin'. Well, Saul and I don't hop anymore. But we do go to dinner at Spud's.
- While retelling a story, I mentioned that a friend of mine had said, "You know, when you get engaged - " and my brother yelled out, "When?!??" as if the real question was "if." I love my brother.
This was only second to his insult later in the day, when he said to me, "I have the perfect 23rd birthday present for you. Do you like cats?"
- At one point, my dad and brother went out to the car, giving me the perfect opportunity to play the classic Doorbell Trick. My grandmother has the buzzer thing, where you have to buzz to be let into the building. Since forever, my sister, brother and I have played this trick on anyone who goes outside while at my grandmother's. The point is to hit the "door" button reallllly fast so that it just buzzes for a split second, making it nearly impossible for the person outside to get to the door handle in time. Usually, this trick barely works because everyone's prepared for it, especially my dad. Usually, he just comes in and shakes his head like his children are losers. (Although, as I just retold the story, it is pretty funny to think about someone who has to time the buzzer and basically grab it really fast so that they can get in on the first try. I mean, what if a neighbor or other visitor stopped in at that moment? High comedy.) Regardless, today I was masterful. When my brother and dad finally arrived, my dad just walked in, shook his head at me in disgust - rather than pity - and muttered something under his breath as he went to take a nap. That was the first hint that this had finally worked. Then my brother walked in behind him. "We got it on the fourth try," he said. This almost made me call my sister, just to share the good news.
Oh, and, this prompted my brother's third insult of the day: "Oh, Elana, the Places You'll Go... to HELL!" He said it with such frusration and disdain... I don't know. Sometimes, I wonder whether this kid is gunning for some award like "Most Times I Acted Like I Was Catatonic." He'd win, hands down.
- "Mmm, I haven't had a pear in years." - Dad, randomly, as he looked at a bowl with a decent looking pear, a bunch of mushy grapes, and a big rotten pear. For the record, he did decline when my grandmother asked if he'd like one, but more importantly, who makes these statements? And you know what? I think he has had a pear in years.
- When Saul arrived later in the afternoon, my dad was still intrigued about Saul's new car, so my grandmother and Saul were telling him about it. I mentioned that the Corolla wasn't a cute car, which made my dad later yell at me because that wasn't a nice thing to tell a new car owner. My brother's one chime-in? "Elana's really good at telling what cars look good, so I'd listen to her." I'm still not sure whether he was sincere or not. If he wasn't, my brother is quickly becoming a master at sarcasm.
Shit.
- Perhaps the comedy climax came during the discussion about where to eat dinner. My brother began by asking my grandmother if she'd been to this new place, Joe's Famous Bar-B-Que. "No," she said, "but it doesn't sound good. They serve beer." Oooooh.
Then, the following conversation took place. If someone had told me this took place, I wouldn't have believed that it was this extreme, but it was, and I know it was because I sat at the table and transcribed the whole thing as it happened, like a maniac. Someday, if I'm ever a famous writer, I hope they find this sheet of notes I made and put it up in a museum or something and label it my "early work."
Michael: Have you ever been to Chevy's (a restaurant down the street)?
Grandma: Kevy's?
Michael: Chevy's.
Grandma: Kevy's.
Michael: CHEVY'S.
Dad, not looking up from the paper: The answer is no.
Michael, ignoring my father and unfazed: Have you ever been to CHEVY'S?
Grandma: Tszchevy's... Kevy's... Chevsky's?
Michael: No. Chevy. Like Chevy Chase?
Grandma: Chase? Have I been...?
Michael: CHEVY'S. It's a restaurant. Down the street.
Dad, looking up from the paper: Michael, the answer is no.
Grandma: Tschevy's? Kevy's?
Michael: Chevy's. As in Chevy Chase. The movie guy.
Grandma: What?
Michael, exasperated: Okay, you haven't been there.
Grandma: Chevy...
Michael writes "Chevy Chase" on a piece of paper, then right under that, "Chevy's" with a double underline: Chevy's.
Dad: Michael, why didn't you just spell it out, rather than waste a whole piece of paper? C-H-E-V-Y-apostrophe-S?
Grandma, reading the paper: Tschevy's? Where?
Michael points to the paper again: Chevy's.
Grandma: Oh. No, I've never been.
Dad shakes his head.
Michael: No? (Again, is he a master of the sarcasm? If so, the kid is borderline genius.)
Grandma: No, I've never been there. Never heard of it. Is it a barbecue?
We ended up going to an Italian restaurant, after we had a "democratic" vote. If the forefathers had seen this display of "democracy," they would have decided to scrap the whole thing and just make a dictatorship. Everyone changed their vote, everyone felt pressured to vote one way, and everyone pretty much didn't give a crap about the outcome (actually, on second thought... this sounds pretty close to the American democratic system. Not bad, family!)
As a postscript on the above conversation, as we drove to the restaurant for dinner, my brother noted, "Oh, you know what? I think Chevy's closed."
- At dinner, my grandmother told us about my grandfather's sandwich shop he owned. My grandfather's name was Edward. He named the shop "Eddie's Sandwich Shop." This about killed my father, who thought the name wasn't original at all. "How'd he come up with THAT one?" he asked my grandmother.
"I don't know," said my grandmother, after legitimately thinking.
- "One in three million Republicans has integrity." Always good to have a random Saul quotation about politics. It's like a Courtney Love TV appearance: you know something insane will be said; the question is simply how outrageous it will be. For a long time, I think my family would argue with Saul about politics, until we all realized that was like arguing with Courtney Love about sobriety: you have a point, she's a lunatic and not sober. She's going to win.
- On the way to dinner, my dad joked about going to Kowloon. Some people love this place. I'm not one of them. In fact, every time I think about it, I want to puke. I had lunch there with my dad a few years ago, when I was coming back to school. I remember my dad got some dish that looked disgusting, and after eating my dinner of Chicken Chow Mein, I remember wanting to die, I felt so sick. In fact, I've never had Chicken Chow Mein since. My dad suggested I get that a few weeks ago, and even by association, I wanted to puke. (Incidentally, this was also the scene that inspired my grandmother to make her most famous comment in the last two decades. One day, while visiting, she told us how she had gone to Kowloon with my aunt. She actually said the following: "Diane and I went to Kowloon. I had the best dinner. It was delicious. Deeelicious, I'm telling you. But oh, I got the worst food poisoning. I was so sick! It was terrible. I'm never going back. But the food, while I was eating it, oh, it was delicious. Deeeelicious!" You can't make this stuff up.) Anyhow, I won't go to Kowloon. My dad and I had a running joke about this for a while, until he went to the dark side and went back and I guess now he loves it. I don't care, I will never go there.
This prompted my father, brother, and I to discuss rules as to whether you can hate somewhere and never go back. My dad wasn't sold on the idea until I said that there were two places that qualified for me: Kowloon, and the Poconos. If you ask me, the Poconos is the equivalent to my experience at Kowloon, right down to the cheesy 70s architecture and decor: when I was there, every place looked disgusting and dilapidated, and I still feel like puking when I think about how boring the whole experience was. I don't care if they build a Poconos Disney, I'm never going back. My father agreed with me, so that was settled.
Then, my brother brought up that we should also be entitled to hating one person. We considered this for a moment, and my dad brought up this girl, R.S. We used to carpool, and on Sundays, my dad was the driver. Well, my father would beep the horn and he would wait for R.S. to come out. That was until R.S. told me - in seventh freakin grade - that she "doesn't respond to beeps." This killed my father. "You basically told her 'fuck you,' didn't you?" asked my brother today.
"Well, I didn't SAY that to her, but I thought it, that's for sure," said my dad.
Just thinking about my dad driving this girl while thinking "fuck you fuck you fuck you" every week makes me laugh.
- "Do you know if you're under five feet tall and over eighteen, you qualify for a handicapped sticker?"
Once again, my brother reminds us that he is always full of useful information.
- Later at dinner, my father and I had a follow-up conversation to an email exchange we had a few weeks ago. He had sent me the following email:
E., My buddy is going to the game tomorrow and has less than desirable seats. He wonders if you have any way to upgrade location. If so, please let him know either by email or on his cell. Thanks, Dad.
This made me respond to my tax-lawyer father:
Dad, My friend is doing her taxes, and she was wondering if you could call up the government and have them reduce the amount she owes. If so, please let her know. Thanks, E.
Anyhow, the point of the email was that I couldn't do anything, and I wasn't that happy that my dad was passing off this question - obvious answer no - to me, when he could have said from the beginning that it wasn't possible. I was explaining this to him tonight at dinner, and he responded, "But then I look like an ass."
"But now I look like the ass."
"Well, that's the way it is."
I'll remember this.
- In a horrible moment, the waitress got insulted (not to her face). She came by and asked if we wanted dessert. She was pretty much trying to up her tip amount all night, because she also repeatedly asked us if we wanted salad, soup, or an appetizer. It was pretty shameless, actually. Anyway, because everyone was full, nobody wanted dessert. She seemed disappointed in this, so my dad asked her, "Well, come on, if you had just eaten all this, would you really want dessert?"
"Yeah," she said, just being nice and all. Then she walked away.
"She looks it!" said my grandmother, right after she left.
This was pretty bad. I mean, even my dad was like, "Ma!" This whole thing reminded me of the time that I was worried about having my heavy friend come over to the house when my grandma and Saul were over, because my grandma had once remarked that someone was a "big girl" and I was really nervous that all shit would break loose and my friend would go home insulted and kill herself. (My grandmother said nothing, neither did Saul, and the girl is still alive.)
So after my dad was shocked, I said to him, "She's not even fat. I mean, you don't agree with her, do you?"
My dad's response? "She could go either way." Verrrry nice. (If he sees this, he's probably going to yell at me for including it. Actually, this entire thing could get me another mailbox warning.)
- On the way home, I was talking about my cousin, who never calls me back. Every time we have a big family gathering, she tells me how we should see more of each other. The last time she did this was at my uncle's funeral. My dad's girlfriend was like, "Yeah, everyone loves everyone at a funeral," which was pretty much right-on. A few months later at my graduation family dinner, her enthusiasm had declined about 150%. But still, she included a nice check with her card, so I figured it was a draw.
I called her about a month later, though, to invite her to dinner and a movie, like we said we were going to do. She, of course, never called me back. (By the way, my cousin is about 35 and married. Her husband always seems nice enough, but the man must think I'm a royal whiner because whenever I see her, I always make fun of her for never calling and going totally AWOL on the family. In fact, I went on and on about this at my graduation dinner. The guy must've been thinking, "I just shelled out a shitload of money on this bitch, and she's yelling at my wife!" He'd have a point. Only he doesn't know the whole back story.)
Well, all of this prompted me to tell my dad that I wasn't going to call her anymore. And the more I thought about it, the more I was annoyed that she always said she wanted to get together but never really followed through. "And," I proclaimed, "I'm not going to accept any more gifts from her, either."
"Don't do that," my dad said. "Just don't go all out with your efforts. Just accept her as she is, when you see her at events, that's all. Don't cut her off."
I thought about this rationale for a minute.
All of this was too much for my brother. "Wait, YOU'RE not accepting GIFTS??!" he asked from the backseat. "What's wrong with you?"
(He was right. All summer long, I'd been talking about how much I like getting gifts. I love gifts. I highly recommend graduating to anyone, if only because of the graduation party windfall. Plus, having a summer birthday, I really cleaned up over the past few months. Because of the amount of giftage, I was becoming pretty greedy and I decided to just go with it, as a joke. I ended up freaking out my mother because I kept talking about the guest list for my graduation party in terms of how much people would give me as a gift. "I'm thinking about inviting my friend X," she'd say. "Is that okay?" My response? "As long as she brings at least $25." "What?" "Consider it a cover charge." I'm telling you, I really scared her. Not to mention that later in the summer, when her rich friend gave me a measly $18 check, I told her that I wrote the thank-you note on ugly stationery AND that I was sarcastic, thanking them for their "very generous" gift. This, I think, was where I crossed the line. It was either here or when I told her that I was mad at her friend for giving me a cooking book instead of cash. It's a toss-up, really.)
"Oh my god," I said, snapping back to reality. "I totally just went insane for a second. I mean, I went insane. I had an out-of-body experience. Me, not accept gifts? What IS wrong with me?!"
"I know!" said my brother. "You seriously just went nuts. I mean, who WERE you?"
And that's when I realized it: after a day with some leading members of the Family Freakshow, nobody's immune to insanity. I mean, I'm not going to go buy a pet bird and bring it to the beach with me any time soon, but still. I caught some crazy today.
This reminds me of a card that my aunt once bought my mom for her birthday. On the front, it shows a family behind a woman, who's kind of separate because she's pictured in the foreground. On the top, it says, "You're someone who stands apart from the rest." And on the inside, there's the punchline: "And in our family, that's a good place to stand."
Sums it up perfectly.
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