Memories Monday -- Wastin' Away Again

Karen, Nikki, and I did get to talk about the things that didn’t involve olives (although we couldn’t escape them).

Karen wondered who would win if Doug tried to beat up my father.

“My dad, of course.”  I had to be loyal. 

“What would you have done if he had shown up?”

“I don’t know.  Probably let them fight it out.”

“They could have thrown olives at each other.”  We all found this uproariously funny.  It was Friday night and Nikki had found some strawberry margarita mix at the store that she had to try out.

“But I only had the green ones.”

“Well, maybe you could have waived the rule that one time.”

“And green ones are more festive.”

I wasn’t sure about the rule waiving.  “It’s a slippery slope there.  The next thing you know they’ll bring in the unpitted ones, they’ll be throwing pits at each other, and someone will get hurt.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone gets hit in the eye with an olive pit.”

We got a little sober with this, envisioning trips to the emergency room.  Nikki broke the silence.

“If your mother had gotten into a fight with Missy, who would have won?”

That was harder.  “Well, Missy is bigger, but Aunt Pooh told me that my mother was quite a scrapper.”

“The middle child.”

I had to laugh at my mother decking it out with Missy.   But I thought maybe we should be a bit more serious.

“Why do you think they came in separate cars?”

“Maybe Missy was afraid someone would say something.”

“You mean Ed?  He had more issues with his father than with Missy.”

Karen put down her drink and got very serious.  “You know, she screwed over both his mother and father and he doesn’t seem to be mad at her.  What is it about her?”

“I don’t know.  Missy is very sweet and men seem to want to protect her, even at her age.  Except her first husband.  He fooled around.  Oh, and Ed’s dad.  He did, too.”

“She certainly can pick them.”  Karen said, “Not your father, of course.  He’s a catch.”

“For an old guy.”  I thought we should be realistic

“Well, she’s no spring chicken.”

“If they watch the kids of Christmas Eve and they aren’t married, are you going to let them sleep in the guest room?”

“No way, Jose.  If I did, the kids would be wanting to do the same thing.  It’s bad enough thinking they’d be having sex anyway.  But I couldn’t take it in the house.”

Nikki looked thoughtful.  “My mother always said, ‘If you’re going to smoke, do it at home.  If you’re going to drink, do it at home.’  She never said, ‘If you’re going to have sex, do it at home.’”

Karen nodded.  “The only thing creepier than the idea of your parents having sex is the idea of your children having sex.”

We drank to that.
  

Memories Monday -- Memories of ?

After everyone had gone to bed, I was lying awake thinking about the olives and the picnics at my grandmother’s and Aunt Pooh’s houses. 

“Isn’t it funny how my mother is remembered for her remark about olives?”

“You ought to have it put on her tombstone.”

I knew Ed was joking, but I wondered what my mother would have thought of that.  I hate to say it, but humor wasn’t her strong point.

“What do you think the kids will tell their kids about us?”

Ed sighed.  “Here we go again.  We will probably be around long after our grandchildren are grown, so the kids won’t need to tell them anything.”

“But what if we’re not?”

“Why don’t you write down what you want them to remember?”

“But that’s not the same thing.  It should be spontaneous.”

“Well, they’ll probably remember the time you lost it and said, ‘We are not having any goddamn artificial Christmas trees in this house!  Ever!’  The ever was the best part.”

I haven’t decided whether this was one of my prouder moments or more shameful ones.

“Maybe every Christmas when they put the tree up, someone will say, 'We are not having any goddamn artificial Christmas trees is this house!  Ever!’ and the kids will laugh  (unless Betsey decides that in her house they won’t use trees that have been cut down and maybe hurt animals and Josh becomes a priest who really can’t joke about swearing) and they’ll remember poor . . . “

I suddenly had a thought.  What were the grandchildren going to call me?  “What do you want our grandchildren to call you?”

“Charlie.  Seriously?”

“Grandma is fine for me, since that’s what I called my grandmother and that’s what they call three of their grandmothers.  Janet might not like them using the same name they did for Missy,”

“Now Janet and Missy probably won’t be around.”

“They could still say it at Betsey’s.  As irony.”

“Say what?  Oh, about the trees.”

I had another idea.  “Maybe one of the grandchildren will have a cute name for me before he or she can really talk and everyone will use it.  Karen calls her grandmother Noo Noo.  It’s a long story.”

“Fine.  I’ll speak to the first grandchild about it.”

I fell asleep thinking of Betsey and Josh and Cilla putting up their trees.  And of Christmas dinners when someone would say “Olives are so festive.”  It would be like Tiny Tim’s “God bless us every one.”

Memories Monday -- Not as Festive, but More Fun

They say the no party is really over until it’s been discussed.  Some say that is the best part.  Usually there isn’t much material at a family barbecue, but when the guests are your father and his new girlfriend, who used to be (and actually still is) married to your husband’s father, there are endless possibilities.  But we didn't get to that at home.

After my father and Missy had left, everybody collapsed in front of the television with the remains of the snacks.  Fortunately, we used paper plates, so there hadn’t been much cleanup.

Cilla was taking the pimentos out of the remaining olives and giving them to Duke and wondering why we never have black olives.

“Because they suck,” Betsey said.

“And they aren’t festive,” Josh added.  “They’re all black and boring.”

“And they have those pits,” I added.  “That can be a choking hazard.  Of course there are some with the pits taken out.  My cousins and I used to put them on our fingers.  But we wouldn’t eat them.  Sometimes we’d put them in our pockets and throw them at each other later.  Outside, of course. ”

Ed shook his head.  “And you wonder where they get their ideas!”

“What did your grandmother say when she found them in the yard?”

“I don’t know if she ever did.”

Josh was thoughtful. “It was smart that you did it outside.  That way when the grass was cut, they would get chopped up and the evidence would be destroyed."

“That’s very good thinking, Josh.”  I wondered if he had applied his good thinking to anything else.

Naturally, Cilla started putting the olives on her fingers.  I had to head her off.  “The rule of the game is you have to use black olives.  It doesn’t work with green ones.”

Ed wanted to know why it wouldn’t.  I don’t know if he was really puzzled or if he was just trying to trip me up.

“Yeah, why?” Josh asked.

I am not firm very often.  But there is such a thing as tradition.  “Because that is the rule.  You can’t break a rule.”  The kids understood that.  Ed looked disgruntled.





Memories Monday -- Grilling by the Grill

The dinner went well enough.  I decided to barbecue and eat outside.  That way the kids wouldn’t have to sit in one place and might forget to ask questions.

My father and Missy arrived in separate cars.  I didn’t know if they wanted us to think they weren’t living together or what.  I got everybody settled with drinks and cheese and crackers.  Cilla sat down next to Missy and got to the point quickly.  “Nana, are you still our nana?”

Missy looked a little taken aback.  “Why, of course, I am, Honey.  How could I not want to be your nana?” 

“Are you still Courtney and Dylan’s nana?”

“Well, I’d like to be.  But sometimes you can’t get what you'd like.”

“Cilla, why don’t you come out to the kitchen with me and help put out the olives?”  To Cilla, it just isn’t a picnic or fancy dinner without olives.  But she was enjoying the conversation.

“My Grandma Louie always said, ‘Olives are so festive.’  She used to be married to Grandpa Jack, you know, but she died.”

Betsey had turned up.  “Nana remembers Grandma Louie.”  (Fortunately, she didn’t add “Moron.”)  "She was here with Grandpa Jack for dinners when Nana was here with Grandpa Doug.”

“Is he still our grandpa?”

My head was starting to spin.  I didn’t know if this was making people uncomfortable, but Cilla wasn’t doing anything wrong.  And of course, it must have been very puzzling to her.

“Yes.  You have the same grandparents as ever,” I said.

“But I guess Grandpa Doug won’t be coming here.”

“He will sometimes.”

“But not when Nana and Grandpa Jack are here.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you think Grandpa Doug might try to beat up Grandpa Jack?”

“Girls, I really need you to help me.  I need someone to get out the potato chips.”  Fortunately potato chips didn’t inspire any conversation.

Karen asked me how I felt about my father and Missy.  She wanted to know if I felt insecure about sharing my father. 

Nikki asked if I felt conflicted out of loyalty to my mother.  I really didn’t think so.    But maybe I’ve just been too busy to worry about being insecure or conflicted, what with the end of softball season and Betsey’s and Cilla’s flute and dance recitals, getting everybody ready for camp and helping with the church picnic.

Sometimes it’s hard to give your neuroses your full attention.

Memories Monday -- Meltdown and Cleanup

Although I wasn’t around when Doug left Janet for Missy, Ed told me about it.  Actually, I wormed it out of him.

Janet had really been more upset about losing Missy and basically told Doug, “Ok, see you.”  Doug had been fooling around for years.

Allison had cried and yelled and slammed doors.  She blamed Janet and said that maybe if she’d been a better cook and housekeeper, he wouldn’t have left.  Not that she ever tried to help except by pointing out what needed to be done.

Ed had been upset, of course, but he had thrown himself into school and sports.  That might have been partly because Doug had told the kids, “Don’t think you’re going to be cut any breaks because you come from a broken home.  You’re not going to be allowed to slack off.”

And so they didn’t.

The wedding had been in the country, or as Ed put it, "in some damn field."  Janet had told Ed that he would have to go, and when Doug asked him to be his best man, she’d told him he’d have to do that, too.  She told Ed and Allison to watch out for cow pies, and Allison, who was going to be a bridesmaid, had said she was just trying to spoil things for her and flounced off to her room.  (I got this story from Janet when we were reminiscing about weddings.)  It didn’t make things any better when Allison did step in one.

Janet had moved away from the activism.  As she put it, 'What with ‘Discovering My True Sexual Identity’, as they say, and all, I couldn’t give poverty and injustice my full attention.”

Ed says that discovering her true sexual identity mostly involved talking on the phone and running around with her new friends.

Janet enrolled in a program for displaced homemakers at the Community College and became a legal secretary.  Naturally she had to wear business clothes to work.  (The secretarial course had included makeup and wardrobe tips, which she said made her teeth hurt, but what can you do?)  Missy wears gauzy shirts and embroidered tunics and jewelry made by her artist friends or from some boutique that specializes in “crafts.”  To be fair, she is the office manager for a group of therapists.

I always have my father over for dinner on Father’s Day.  Sometime Ed’s father and Missy would come, unless they’d gone out to visit Allison.  The men would usually watch sports on TV.  My mother was fascinated by Missy.  “Karma, chakras, meditation. It’s just lucky she has a husband.”

Janet had always told the Ed and Allison to be polite to Missy, so it’s a habit. She is very good to the kids, who call her “Nana.”  They have the latest in gender-neutral toys and political t-shirts that are not made in sweatshops.

Nikki said I should call Doug and invite him and Missy and then he would tell me.  I thought that was a bit junior high and that it was more “Mature” and “Appropriate” not to say anything, which probably isn’t healthy, but there are some parts of your upbringing you can’t escape.

Finally, Janet talked to Missy, since they are friends again.  Missy talked to my father and then to Janet and Janet called me.  So I called Missy and invited them.  When I told Ed, he said, “Is this the court of Henry the Eighth or the White House?  All this intrigue over a dinner.”

And then, for some reason, I started to cry.

I don't know why I lost it after Ed’s remark about the Medicis.  At least he didn’t say it was junior high.  The whole thing is, I suppose, but I am too cool to be embarrassed by my own social awkwardness.

Cilla happened to be in the kitchen with us and she looked like she thought she should cry too, but didn’t know why.  She looked at Ed.  He didn’t know what to say.  Josh happened to walk by, took everything in, and asked, “Do you have PMS, Mom?  Would you like some cookies?”

“And a nice cup of tea?” Cilla added.

Ed made me a cup of tea and Cilla brought me some tissues.  Josh found cookies (those sugar cookies from the grocery store that have the icing the color of sidewalk chalk and sprinkles.  I like to just eat the icing.) He even put them on a plate.  I think Betsey’s calling him “Father Josh” has had some effect, because he said, “Now what’s the problem?”

Betsey must have heard the commotion because she came downstairs.  “Mommy’s upset because Grandpa Jack is going to marry Nana because he stole her from Grandpa Doug.”

I was so surprised that I couldn’t even tell them that they were just dating.  Cilla wanted to know if they would get married in Grandma Kate’s church and if she could have a new dress to be flower girl this time.

Later I realized that I really wasn’t thinking straight because I said, “You can probably be a bridesmaid this time since Courtney won’t be in the wedding.”  Courtney is Ed’s sister Allison’s daughter, and of course they won’t be there.  I don’t think Allison is ready for that much healing.

Later I found out that Betsey had found out from Nikki's daughter Ilsa, who had overheard Nikki talking to Karen.

Emergency Conference -- From Charlie's Diary

 

I got Wendy’s phone number from Emily and called her.  She was pleased to hear from me, but very negative about Alice (AKA “that bitch”).  I told her that Alice felt terrible and she loves Emily as a friend.  And since the general understanding is that they had been a couple and that Alice had been the breaker-upper, Emily got custody of the church.  Alice started going to our church, and when the kids asked why, she said the incense at Epiphany gave her a headache. 

And Emily also got custody of the friends, except for a few who wanted to be “liberated” and stay friends with both of them and some who hit on Alice.  She was flattered, but she wondered if they were doing it because they thought she was fast and just wanted a quick pop.

Wendy’s comment was “Boo effing hoo,” but she didn’t say “effing.”

“But anyway,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track, “The problem isn’t Alice.  Emily will probably meet someone someday.  But the problem is that she’s talking to Michele.”  I didn’t know if I should call Michele “that bitch.”  It’s not a good idea to criticize someone’s ex; you never know if they’ll get back together, especially in that crowd.

“Shoot,” Wendy said.  “Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot.”  And of course that isn’t really what she said.

“Is Michele seeing anyone?”

“There’s a very nice new woman in our group that she seems to have her eye on.”

“Wait a minute.”  I practically had to pick my jaw up off the ground.  “You’re still in the group?”

Wendy seemed surprised that I was surprised.  “It’s kind of a small community.  It’s like a family; you get mad at each other, but you have to stick together and deep down you love each other.  And everybody knows everybody else’s secrets.”

That sounded a little like incest to me, but of course I didn’t say anything.  “Can’t you warn her?” 

“Oh, we’ve tried.  But once Michele’s interested, you’re a goner.  We’re going to be very supportive, though, when it’s over.  Actually, I don’t think it’s started.  But then again, maybe it has.  It’s kind of confusing.”

To say the least.

“So you don’t think Michele is really after Emily?”

Wendy sighed.  “Who knows?  Fortunately, she’s not here.”

“But what can we do?” 

“Find someone else for her.  Get her to go to therapy.  Start a support group.  How should I know?  She got herself into this mess.  Or That Bitch did.” 

I decided to change the subject.  “Are you seeing anyone?”

Wendy sighed again.  “I’m on a break.  I can’t decide if it’s because I need some peace or if it’s just no one is interested.  I just wish I could find the right woman and settle down, even get married one day.  Actually, I’m mad at myself for wasting all that time with Michele, when I knew what would happen.”

“Don’t beat yourself up.  Emily said no one can help herself when it comes to Michele.”

“Well, she’s got that right.”

“Listen, Wendy, Emily knows I’m going to call you and she probably figured out why.  Maybe you can talk some sense into her.  Never mind Alice, just get her away from Michele.”

“Sure, why not?  Is this a Jane Austen novel or what?”

“I like to think of my life as a quirky independent comedy.”

“Or maybe it’s the court of Henry the Eighth.”

“Well, you know what went on there.”

I would have liked to have discussed more metaphors for my life, but Duke had just stolen a piece of pizza off the table and Cilla was chasing him.  We promised to talk again soon.