Humor is one of the most valuable assets an individual can possess. A sense of humor indicates a heightened intellect, an ability to cope with adversity and it keeps one humble. One of the reasons that I fell in love with your Daddy is his wicked sense of humor; he would call it finely honed sarcasm crafted over decades of dedicated practice. You come from a long line of laughter and teasing on Daddy’s side of the family. When I watch Daddy tease you I can see his father and grandfather’s influence. Your uncles are all big goofs too; they love to irritate you girls to the point of utter and complete frustration (it comes from a place of love and affection so try not to let it get to you). One’s aptitude for humor can present itself at a very early age, which was the case with your Uncle Aaron. Grandma Carolyn was a favorite target for your Daddy and Aunt Sara, who are considerably older than Uncle Aaron; they were bad influences on that young sweet boy. Back in the 1990’s there was a very popular film called “Forrest Gump” about a loveable but intellectually challenged man who was being bullied early on in the film. There is a memorable scene in which his friend Jenny told him to “Run Forrest….Run!” to escape the bullies. So popular was this film that certain lines from the film found their way into everyday vernacular. One night your Daddy, Uncle Aaron, Aunt Sara and I were at Grandma Carolyn’s house. We all wanted to watch a movie which was fine with grandma but she insisted that she got to choose the movie. She chose a Steven Seagal movie called “On Deadly Ground.” Sorry little one but your grandma does not have excellent taste in movies, this movie gets an average rating of 4 out of 10. There was a collective groan from all of us when she chose it, but we sat down to watch it. Your Daddy and his siblings offered running commentary throughout the entire movie and the objective of the running diatribe was to irritate grandma to the point that she would give up and let them watch something else. They were relentless your Daddy and Aunt Sara, to the point where grandma snipped at them a bit. Uncle Aaron was much younger then and out of the three he was most likely to defend grandma and at the beginning of the film he did. However, even to a twelve year old, it was clear that this movie about a heavily armed environmentalist taking on big oil in Alaska would not be winning any Oscars. Your grandma would not capitulate; she was bound and determined that she would see this movie through to the end. Half way through the movie the main character, named Forrest Taft, was surrounded by menacing bad guys and Uncle Aaron shouted “Run Forrest….Run!” Your Daddy, Aunt Sara and I collapsed from fits of laughter. The juxtaposition of grandma’s stern determination to watch the film and Uncle Aaron’s effuse warning to Steven Seagal was a textbook offering of perfect comedic timing. Even Grandma Carolyn could not ignore the humor of the situation; it was at that point she admitted she didn’t think the movie was very good either. It was well over twenty years ago that this story took place but it is still fresh in my memory. When Daddy, Sara, Aaron or I say the phrase “Run Forrest…Run!” the purpose of its utterance is to evoke laughter by remembering that night. It is a reminder that teasing grandma was, and still is, one of their favorite pursuits. I wish for you these kinds of memories little one. That you think back on your life when you are older and your remember laughter being central to your childhood. You and your Daddy are a lot of alike; you are already honing a sharp sense of humor and understand the concept of sarcasm and before the age of six. I encourage you to continue to develop your wit; knowing full well that I will be the favorite target for you and Daddy.
Posts Tagged ‘Aunt Sara’
Run Forrest…Run!
Posted in November, tagged Aunt Sara, comedy, Daddy, entertainment, Forrest Gump, Grandma Carolyn, Humor, memorable scene, Sarcasm, Steven Seagal, Uncle Aaron, Wit on November 28, 2012| Leave a Comment »
I Am Thankful For…(or) Please Pass the Gravy
Posted in November, tagged Aunt Sara, burnt, Daddy, Grandma Carolyn, thankful, Thanksgiving; cooking, turkey on November 14, 2012| Leave a Comment »
As Thanksgiving approaches this November I have noticed that many of my friends, family and students are focusing on what they are grateful for. The social media feeds are filled with short but sweet statements about love for family, pets and food. Reading these offerings of gratitude in the twitterverse and blogosphere has me considering what I am grateful for. Although I would like to write a few hundred words of sweetness that would give readers a cavity, I cannot. Not because I am not thankful for you, daddy, my health, and our family (even Gigi); but because every time I hear the phrase “I am thankful for….” I think back to the first Thanksgiving I had with your daddy at Grandma Carolyn’s house. The previous year we had spent the holiday with Grandpa Dwight and Grandma Terry; and so the Thanksgiving that is the subject of this story was very important to Grandma Carolyn as she held all of her children and their significant others captive for a holiday feast. By this point I had known your Grandma Carolyn for an entire year. Her cooking had not improved substantively during that time and so daddy and I ate before we went to Grandma’s. I am pretty sure Aunt Sara and Uncle Aaron ate before the meal too. Please don’t judge, there was plenty of evidence to suggest that if we had not dined prior to the meal we would still be hungry after it. When we arrived at the house we were stunned by the smells coming from the kitchen; it smelled delicious! Your daddy and I went to investigate the fragrance emanating from the oven. Sure enough Grandma Carolyn had cooked a bird and it wasn’t burnt; we began to feel a glimmer of hope. Your grandma had gone to a lot of trouble to set a beautiful table and I am sure she was bound and determined that this Thanksgiving would be different; this time her children would revel in her culinary skills and praise her talents. It was not to be. Grandma wanted her bird perfectly brown like the pictures you see on the front of the magazines in the check-out lines at the supermarket. Perhaps this should be your first lesson in marketing little one, rarely does a bird come out of the oven looking like that; Photoshop and food decorators are mostly responsible for those images. Nevertheless, your grandma was determined that her turkey would be brown and succulent; and so, in true Grandma Carolyn fashion, she took the foil off the bird and cranked up the broiler in the misguided assumption that fast, direct heat would brown her turkey. Needless to say the turkey was black and crispy rather than brown and juicy. I do believe that grandma’s heart may have broken a little that day to see her Thanksgiving Day offering literally go up in smoke. As we sat down for dinner your grandma tried to salvage the spirit of the meal by asking everyone to go around the table and ask what they were most grateful for. Of course they started with me since I was the newest member of the family and I said something along the lines of “I am grateful for my new family.” Then it was your daddy’s turn, the ringleader of this particular holiday circus, and he said “I am grateful there is a lot of gravy on this table.” Then it was Sarah’s turn who said “I am grateful for the milk.” Finally, Aaron quipped “I am grateful that McDonald’s is open.” By this time the adults at the table had disintegrated into full blown laughter over the charred monstrosity of a turkey that was to be their Thanksgiving feast. You may ask, “What does this have to do with being thankful?” Well little one, I am thankful for humor and grace. Your daddy, Aunt Sara and Uncle Aaron are some of funniest folks I know and, in retrospect, it was their humor that made that holiday one of the most memorable I have ever witnessed. I am also thankful for grace. Your Grandma Carolyn, while not adept at cooking, was incredibly graceful that day. Instead of getting angry at her children, she saw the teasing for what it was; affection and acceptance. After that day I knew that I may never find an edible meal at Grandma Carolyn’s but I would always find love.
Grandma Can’t Cook (or) Why Daddy Married Mommy
Posted in November, tagged Aunt Sara, cooking, Daddy, Grandma Carolyn, Uncle Aaron on November 5, 2012| 1 Comment »
My students and daddy’s students frequently ask us how we met and why we got together. I am sure that your daddy’s tale differs from mine, and I am positive it is never a consistent answer. Over the past few years I have heard responses ranging from weary surrender to mythic storytelling. One thing I have learned is to let your daddy tell his own tales and that there will likely be a large dose of humor and mythology involved in the telling. I am sure that the two of you will likely have a laugh or two at my expense over the years as you bond together to tease your silly mommy: I see it happening now; the two of you have a very similar sense of humor. I will cheerfully accept your gentle ribbing, secure in the knowledge that it comes from a place of love and admiration. The truth is that I believe your daddy wanted to marry me for a variety of reasons and today I will share one. Although he may chuckle heartily and say “that isn’t why I married your mommy,” deep down he will recognize the honesty when I say: one of the reasons daddy wanted to marry me is that I can cook. Coming from me it sounds horribly antiquated and fits a multitude of stereotypes that make me inwardly recoil; but there you have it, mommy can cook. What you need to know is that my culinary skills are really quite average; there is nothing special about my cooking (other than there is love in every bite). However, in contrast to your Grandma Carolyn’s cooking prowess, I seem like a contender for Iron Chef. While growing up your daddy, Aunt Sara and Uncle Aaron used to joke about what they would get for supper. According to them, every night the carbohydrates came from a box and the protein came from a can. The night’s fare was, as they recount, either chicken “junk” or tuna “junk” (they use more colorful language but I am trying to keep this letter rated G). I could not believe that this could possibly be true. It sure was in stark contrast to my own experience because your Grandma Jo is an excellent cook! After spending more time with Grandma Carolyn in those early days I became increasingly aware that your dear grandma has many talents but cooking isn’t one of them. I have so many examples of good intentions in the kitchen gone wrong that I will have several more letters to write just based on those experiences! Unfortunately for Grandma Carolyn, her heartfelt attempts to show her love via food have failed miserably time and again. I remember one weekend when I stayed with Grandma Carolyn and Uncle Aaron while on break from school (daddy was teaching so he stayed behind) she wanted to make one of my favorites, barbecued kielbasa. By this time I had already tasted her cooking and I eagerly volunteered to make it myself but she insisted that she could do it. I watched in horror as she threw the meat into a pan set over the highest flame possible, she then proceed to add an entire jar of store bought barbecue sauce. Little one I need to tell you that cooking is partly art but it is a whole lot of chemistry, and if you don’t understand chemistry then you end up with a pan full of meat stuck to the bottom with the glue you created from heating sugar quickly at a high temperature. The meal was inedible and it took your Uncle Aaron and I well over an hour and a half to clean the pan! It is a certainty that when you get older and you are sitting around with your cousins, aunts and uncles we will retell all of the stories of Grandma Carolyn’s cooking disasters. Your grandma has a good nature though and she will join in, both in defense and confession of her lack of culinary skills. What I want you to know little one is that even though grandma’s food was largely inedible; she made her offerings with love. To feed someone is the most basic thing that you can do for another human being and one must always accept an offering of food with the utmost respect for the hands that prepared it.


