Growing up my house was a bit on the - let's say - unique side. Humor was twisted affectionately and freely shared. If you ventured into our little red-bricked home, it was every man for himself. For within these walls was my Mom, a tall red-headed, Sophia Loren lookalike, bombshell.
There she stood in the kitchen, sidetracked from making dinner. Carrots and celery filled the sink... except a chosen few. Her body blocked the view as she pondered her produce.
In the meantime, unbeknownst to us, Billy - aka my surrogate brother - was on his way over for a visit.
From time to time he would go to the church around the corner. It was a great way of staying out of trouble, and the piano and organ in the church sanctuary ‘called’ to him. Fifi, the beloved church secretary - saw past the riffraff of Billy’s rebellious mischiefs. When he asked if he could tinker on the piano... she opened the church doors with huge welcoming arms. It is here he spent hours - HOURS - practicing and literally enlightening his soul with music.
It was common, since our house was so close to the church, for drop-by-any-time visits... Billy did this often. We had an open door policy. So on this day, in the door bounds Billy.
Mom had been busy tending to the vegetables... it started out for the purposes of dinner, but that came to an abrupt stop. Not having the capacity to pass up any comedic moment, she was engulfed in her ‘creation.’ You see... as luck would have it, one of the carrots was quite deformed. Actually it was three carrots that grew together in a perfect rendition of a human body... a male human body. Now what is a woman to do when nature presents such a ‘gift’? Let it pass by?! I think not... not until you have at least given it a chance to shine. So from a collection of carrots, celery, parsley, olives, raisins and any other suitable food item she could find, Mom created a vegetable medley like no other.
As Billy leaned over her shoulder - she had now moved her project to the kitchen table so she could sit and create more comfortably, my sisters and I huddled around to admir her work - he got a surprising eyeful. “What did you do to the carrot?!” We all got hysterical! Surrounded by giggling females, Billy tried to come to the defense of this poor vegetable. After all it was a male cohort... and guys have to stick together.
“At least put something...” he signaled for a loin cloth for his friend. Mom ceremoniously picked a leaf off the celery top and arranged the last touch’s to her new pride and joy. There he was, in all his pride and glory, a top a bed of lettuce.
Billy stood and shook his head, trying to contain his laughter. His strawberry blond hair offered no camouflage for his now crimson red, blushed freckled cheeks. Good Grief?! He left when we started to contemplate whether we should save the Veggie-Man and present him at the next church potluck dinner. The house was hormonally imbalanced... I mean seriously, it was just him and the well endowed carrot... With that notion in mind, Billy ran out of the house... no way he was going be cajoled into participating... he had enough of his own antics to own up to.
Veggie-Man sat for at least a week on his own shelf in the refrigerator. A shirt gift box was his new digs... that is until he was missing one day. Mom asked, “Where is the Veggie-Man?” Barbara answered, “I brought him to the church...” Who could hear anything after that...
What a show and tell that must have been?! Actually, I think there could have been a cute ‘eat your vegetables fresh’ lesson, or a completely abridged version of The Jack-in-the-Box toy... but those opportunities passed by.
In the end, Veggie-Man sadly withered and rotted away. Yes, we had to throw him out. I suppose he could have had a more dignified demise... like being chopped up and eaten, as his fellow cohort veggies were... but no. He was paraded around and discarded when we women were finished with him... poor guy.
By now, you’ve gathered that Mom enjoyed being creative... she also enjoyed trying new ventures. The next ‘project’ involved food of another sort ~ chocolate. I don’t remember what the event was... but somehow Mom got talked into making homemade chocolates. Plastic molds took over the countertops and kitchen table. The double boiler was steaming away, and rich chocolate aroma filled the air. Little plastic bags and ribbons waited nearby. My sisters and I loomed in the background waiting for a no longer needed spoon, or even better, a pot that needed to be licked ‘clean.’ Mom warded us off successfully... for the most part.
As each mold was filled, we ohh’d and ahh’d. Fresh lollypop sticks were pressed into the chocolate lava and positioned for the perfect sturdy handle. This was our job. (Talk about asking the cat to watch the canary....)
Along with the normal cutesy molds there were the ‘secret’ molds... the ones that were not allowed to come out of the wrapping. Yeah right... as if that parental plan ever worked... we rummaged in the bag to find a quizzical mold. “What is it?” We turned it this way and that. Then flipped it over and restarted the investigative process... it took a few moments, because the distorted plastic warped immediate recognition, but then it occurred to us... pretty much in age order... at first leery about actually saying the guess... but then yelled out, “Is that a penis?!”
Mom tried to grab the mold out of our hands, but it was too late. Her secret was out. Now the question was, “What the heck are you up to?!” There was a punch line somewhere, we knew enough to know that!
By the end of the day there was chocolate filled molds everywhere. Evidence was undeniable if we dared sneak a taste before they were completely cooled.
Once set, we were able to pop each treat out of the plastic... except ‘those secret ones,’ Mom took care of that delicate task personally.
Cue the front door... and Billy. He walked in and we all froze - like deer ‘caught’ in the headlights.
Veggie-Man was still a vivid memory... and our family had just endured a period of atonement and probation. Need I remind you, we out numbered Billy four females to one... to say nothing of the fact that he had no sisters, and hence limited familiar female interaction to draw upon, unless - that is - you counted us... which at this point, I am not so sure he would be so quick to do...
We knew he was going to be victim, once again, to a barrage of our twisted female wits. Unaware, and ignoring our giggles, he plopped himself down in the big wooden dining room chair. It was a hearty plop... one that said, ‘I’m gonna stay for a while.’ Chocolates were everywhere. Most were already in plastic bags with adorning silver ribbons. Plates were piled high. Scanning the assortment he keyed right in to the one we were most concerned about, "Why did you make dog bones?" Still looking... and a bit confused... "I thought dogs weren't allowed to have chocolate?"
We could no longer contain our laughter, though somehow Mom kept a straight face. She darted one of those parental 'stop it' looks at us, while still maintaining her mature demeanor. Choosing her words carefully, she slowly said, "They're not exactly 'dog bones' Billy..."
Confused, he looked at her and then back at the 'dog bones.' By the flush of his skin and the whites of his eyes, we knew he got it. “Again!? You got me again!” He tried to get up from the seat and dart out the door, but we all huddled around him to offer a condolence group hug. One would have thought that after the Veggie-Man, there could be no worse. Billy was outnumbered by hormones, and given the line up on the table he could bare no more.
The next time he visited, he paused in the doorway, “Is it safe?” Not until an ‘all clear’ was given did he enter.
God has a funny way of paybacks.....
Not long after, Mom stood in the kitchen surveying her chocolates. There were quite a few missing, including a ‘dog bone’ or two. “Who’s been eating the chocolate?!” Somebody was in trouble! My little sister... Cute little platinum blond, blue-eyed cherub of a child confessed... “I had some.” She was overjoyed that she had such a stash to choose from. It was all the chocolate a kid could ever want. “How much did you eat? ...and which ones?!”
The questioning - or maybe I should say interrogation - continued... that is until my mother found out that her little darling took the ‘dog bones,’ because they were the largest and biggest ‘hunks’ of chocolate in the bunch... and ate those larger than life tender morsels while at the church, where she spent the afternoon?!!! Oh... and lets not forget to bring some to share.....
I shutter to think about that scene. Some things are better left alone.
That night the dinner time conversation revolved around my mother’s questionable standing in the local house of God... after all, One can only tolerate so much.
FYI ~ Should you want more 'Billy,' who is now a Pastor!
...and still spreading joy after all he has been through,
here's where you can find him...
here's where you can find him...
1 comment:
Nancy, having known your brother the last 7 years and your mom the last 2, I can just picture what your words portray. I laughed all the way through reading this post. Boy do I have lots to tease your mom about at church in the morning! I will be kind. Thanks for sharing a bit of their lives that we could never know from their lips.
Post a Comment