Some of my most memorable childhood sleepovers took place while staying at my friend John's. John was a farm kid, as were a lot of my friends, but John was made unique in my pantheon of childhood friends because of his father.
John's dad, also named John, was the epitome of the hardened Navy man. He had saltwater in his veins and, in a former life, was probably Black Bart the pirate captain or some other seaworthy figure.
I spent the better part of my childhood in irrational fear of John Sr. I'm not sure why, exactly, although I think it was because he adhered to the old school of manners and age hierarchy.
If, for example, I happened to walk past John Sr., he would admonish me with a "Hey. Don't you ever speak to your elders?" Now, as a youngster, who was not used to being chastised for doing nothing, and who had no idea what the heck an "elder" was, such statements from John Sr. scared the bejeezers out of me.
But, it was perhaps while eating dinner during my sleepovers at John's that I found myself most in fear of John Sr. I was pretty much raised, at home, to think that, if there happened to be an extra dab of mashed potatoes on my plate that I couldn't finish, well, that was just fine. So long as I excused myself from the table and brought my plate to the sink, all was right with the world.
Not so at the John Sr. household.
At the John Sr. estate, things worked a little different than they did at home. If I took something and placed it on my plate at a dinner provided by John Sr., it was expected that I would eat whatever I took, without exception. I learned early on to only take tiny, bite-sized morsels any time I went to replenish my plate, lest I be stuck with something I didn't particularly care to eat, whether due to being full or not liking a particular food item.
Well, it was during one sleepover that my fear of John Sr. was solidified forever and always. We were all eating dinner, with me being extra careful not to load up on food, because I didn't want to incur the wrath of John Sr. if I tried to excuse myself before I could see my reflection in the plate.
Eventually, I excused myself, and John Jr. tried to excuse himself right behind me. That's when it happened.
"Your plate's not clean," said John Sr. to his son.
I looked at John Jr.'s plate, and it was most certainly clean. Except for. . . no. . . he can't mean THAT.
The "that" in question was a somewhat substantial puddle of ketchup on the side of John's plate. Other than that, the plate was squeaky clean. John Sr. motioned for his son to sit down, and pushed a spoon across the table towards him. I felt my knees start to wobble with the realization that my friend John was about to endure a not-too-pleasant eating ordeal.
John slowly scooped up half a spoonful of Heinz and held it aloft between his mouth and the steely gaze of his hardened Navy father. I wanted to jump in between the spoon and John, like a secret service agent taking a bullet for the President.
With a wince and gulp, the first of three spoonfuls of ketchup went down John's gullet, and I remember thanking my holy stars that I had mercifully managed to take just the right amount of ketchup for the fries I had eaten, thus escaping my friend's distasteful fate.
Two spoonfuls later, it was all over. John was excused from the table and we went off to play with his farm toys.
We never spoke of the ketchup-eating incident, even though it was first and foremost on my mind for the next 48 straight hours or so.
Wow... and here I thought my house growing up was the only one who had that awful rule!!! And you weren't allowed to turn up your nose and say YUCK or someother colorful description either. You could say, "No thank you." or "I don't care for any, thanks." But if the repulsion ran amok and you forgot your manners... you had to eat a whole heaping spoonful of whatever you so greatly didn't want! Makes you learn quick... and also makes your friends real leary of coming over around meal time!!!
HaHa! Ah, the not so good old days! ;-)
Posted by: MH2 at April 15, 2004 01:24 PMI think you probably felt the same way I did when my best friend's mom would come in and spank her for something that had happened earlier in the day. Apparently, discipline time was always right before bedtime. It horrified me, and it embarrassed her for sure, but we never, ever spoke of it.
Posted by: Aritae at April 15, 2004 05:14 PMMy dad was the same way. Not with forcing us to eat ketchup, but *he* would eat whatever it was rather than see food go to waste. The result of being born right after the depression and growing up poor. You just don't waste food.
My sisters were allowed to choose one food that they hated and could pass on, but they had to eat anything else.
By the time I was born my parents had already been through three kids and had mellowed out a lot though.
Posted by: David Grenier at April 15, 2004 10:30 PMKetchup, eh... reminds me of 2 groaners:
Ketchup Dominoes:
http://www.joe-ks.com/archives_apr2004/FrenchFryDominoes.jpg
and 'A Fish Called Wanda' - Uncut Version:
http://www.joe-ks.com/archives_apr2004/FishWanda.jpg
Great blog!
Cheers,
the joe-kster
This may not be as uncommon as you think.
I remember a similar story when I was about four and my father's best friend made his nephew made him eat his leftover catsup before leaving the table. My father and his friend are both baby-boomers but it could have been that they came from a farm background where you learn to economize.
Posted by: Thorley Winston at April 17, 2004 07:12 PMMy favorite artist is Renior,how about you?
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