Coffee Table Declarations
Thursday, November 25, 2004
I admit that I've told this story before, but it's a Thanksgiving classic so I'm going to recycle it. Thanksgiving four years ago was our last Thanksgiving with my grandfather and our last holiday at his house. He came out of his assisted living facility to join us for dinner. My mother and aunt thought they would make things easier all around by getting food from one of those places that offers a complete Thanksgiving feast. It came in foil packages and my mom and aunt just tossed them in the oven to cook.
A little while later, someone opened the oven and realized that one of the foil packages had caught fire. It was pulled from the oven in flames and all hell broke loose. My mom and aunt were trying to put it out and salvage the food. I was opening windows to let the smoke out and checking to see if my grandfather was too chilly with the windows open. My little cousins were running around playing loudly.
All of a sudden, in the midst of all this chaos, my dad lost control. His face bright red, he started shouting, "Someone get the baking soda! We need baking soda to put out the fire! Get the fucking baking soda!" and dead silence fell over the crowd. My dad doesn't swear ever so this was an unusual outburst.
Later, with the fire put out safely and the remnants of the Thanksgiving feast served, as we were all sitting around the table, I asked my dad if he could pass the soda. There was a big bottle of it sitting in front of him. He had been listening to conversation and not paying attention. He turned to me and said, "what?" I replied, "Oh sorry, I meant could you pass the fucking soda."
There was a split second after the words left my mouth that I thought, "uh oh..." but then everyone burst out laughing, my dad most of all. Luckily we were able to turn a potentially traumatic incident into a humorous holiday anecdote. I just hope my grandfather wasn't offended that we set his kitchen on fire and then swore about it.
A little while later, someone opened the oven and realized that one of the foil packages had caught fire. It was pulled from the oven in flames and all hell broke loose. My mom and aunt were trying to put it out and salvage the food. I was opening windows to let the smoke out and checking to see if my grandfather was too chilly with the windows open. My little cousins were running around playing loudly.
All of a sudden, in the midst of all this chaos, my dad lost control. His face bright red, he started shouting, "Someone get the baking soda! We need baking soda to put out the fire! Get the fucking baking soda!" and dead silence fell over the crowd. My dad doesn't swear ever so this was an unusual outburst.
Later, with the fire put out safely and the remnants of the Thanksgiving feast served, as we were all sitting around the table, I asked my dad if he could pass the soda. There was a big bottle of it sitting in front of him. He had been listening to conversation and not paying attention. He turned to me and said, "what?" I replied, "Oh sorry, I meant could you pass the fucking soda."
There was a split second after the words left my mouth that I thought, "uh oh..." but then everyone burst out laughing, my dad most of all. Luckily we were able to turn a potentially traumatic incident into a humorous holiday anecdote. I just hope my grandfather wasn't offended that we set his kitchen on fire and then swore about it.
