Thursday, October 20, 2005

Where's the Beef?

When I was little, Dad used to go to Bermuda for two weeks every August to fulfill his duty as a member of the Army Reserves. This left only Mom and us kids to fend for ourselves. Which always meant we got in a little less trouble. Not because we weren't up to mischief. Just because the, "Wait until your father comes home," threat wasn't as effective when father wasn't coming home for weeks or days.

One of these trips stands out in my memory like none other. I was eight and Bro was six. Mom was VERY, VERY pregnant with Hoot. We all drove Dad to the airport, kissed him lots, and watched him walk away with his big ass green bag full of all kinds of government issue clothing, and perhaps a pair of swim trunks. I loved how Dad looked in his uniform, and I swelled with pride to think of him fighting for our country. Not that we were fighting anyone at the time, but hell, I was 8. I swelled with pride because he made a mean kielbasa. Put him in fatigues and I nearly busted.

Dad boarded the plane, and waved to us one last time, and we turned and made our way back to the car. I could tell that Mom was sad. I even thought she might cry, so I decided not to make a fuss when Bro started whining about sitting in the front seat. I sat right in the back, all "don't worry Mom, I got this one for ya". I was the good eldest daughter that way. And, I wasn't old enough to understand hormones or anything, but I knew well enough that when Mom had a big belly, she cried more easily, and I hated to see it.

As we were driving away, the Hall & Oates song "Every Time You Go Away" started playing and poor Mom done lost her shit and started bawling.

Using my powerful deductive reasoning skillz, I concluded that the song was making her cry, so I intently listened to the words, figuring that what these guys were singing about would give me some clue as to my mother's current emotional state.

And here is what mine little ears did hear:

Every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you...

"Dad forgot his meat," I thought. "That must be what this is about. I mean, there is probably meat in Bermuda, so Dad should be okay. And even if there isn't, he's a big boy and I know he likes brussel sprouts. Eww. I don't know how he can like those things. Maybe Mom feels bad, though, because she had a piece of meat she meant to give him. What can I do so she'll stop thinking about it?"

"Hey Mom? Remember that lady at McDonald's with a earring in her nose? Do you think that when she gets sick and blows her nose, boogies get stuck in there?"

Not only did I manage to change the subject, but I'd made her giggle. Which made me giggle. Which made Bro giggle. Until we were all giggling like crazy about the poor lady at the McDonald's who goddess forbid should ever get a wretched cold. Thank goodness that nose rings are hoops instead of studs now, because for real? A studded earring in your nose? Ew.

I think I'd rather forget to take my meat with me.

10 Leg Humps:

Anonymous said...

Didn't Paul Young sing that? Just because I am a loser and geek and child of the 80s... And because I made my father drive me to see him in concert so I could scream hysterically at the cute British guy in the tight pants. Although at 11 I had no idea why tight pants were good.

And the lady at McDonalds? That's the very reason I took my nosering out about 30 seconds after my friend pierced it. I hadn't thought of that until then.

That's a sweet story.

Zube said...

I googled it and we are both right. I'm pretty sure the version I heard was by Hall & Oates, but I'm not sure who wrote it first.

And hee with the nose ring.

Morris said...

Your website was featured in this month's issue of Ebony.

Mr. Morris
Ask Morris

Anonymous said...

You're right- I remember it now, because it's been bugging me. They both did do it. No idea which one came first.

And Hall and Oates was cool. I had a little crush on Daryl Hall. I know- strange. :)

Doggie Extraordinaire's Mom said...

That's so cute you interpreted the song at your tender young age.

I can remember singing a bad 70s song, don't know if this is the title, but it went, "That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it..." Every time I sang along, my dad would laugh and finally he asked me if I even knew what I was singing about. So I thought about it. What do people always ask one another if they like things this way or that? Proudly, I announced that I had figured out the song! It was about breakfast, and more specifically, the singer was announcing that the breakfast chef had in fact made his eggs, uh-huh uh-huh, the way he likes them. Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Zube, I would've liked you as a kid too!

PaintingChef said...

Really? You were featured in this months issue of "Ebony"?? Morris is all about the comment spam, he thinks I'm an alcholholic.

I imagine that's one of your Mom's favorite memories of you too...knowing exactly what she needed at just the right time.

Julie Marsh said...

Awwwww...that is a touching story. Except the part about the meat and the boogers. That's just sick.

And I had the same thought as Ms. Jellybean - Paul Young!

Amy said...

When I was pregnant with Maggie (two years ago) I was rather hormonal myself and very prone to... ummm... well, rage.

I was also addicted to bacon.

We went to Jack in the Box one morning where I ordered the French Toast sticks WITH Bacon. The jackasses neglected to include my bacon. This sent me into a rampage that would have made a sailor blush.

My son, the darling helpful child he is, recanted the story to EVERYONE he could. Except that when he got to the point where I was cussing and started out "beep"ing the bad words and ended up flatlining with a "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" at the end of the story.

I would have rather had your mom's experience. :o)

Zube said...

Morris- *smooches* Love ya doll.

Librarian- I LOVE how kids interpret songs. Hee. I'd of liked you, too!

PaintingChef- Maybe Morris likes alcoholic lesbians?

Mother Goosemouse- Thanks! Heh. Why am I still perpetually amused by boogers? And farts?

Amy- Oh. My. God. Hee. I bet you appreciate your son retelling that story!

junebee said...

That is too funny about the meat. Did you ask your dad later if he took the meat?

 

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