Family Affairs

By

William D. Dannenmaier

When I was four years of age I had a short-sleeved blue shirt which I loved.  (I know I was four because we moved from that house when I was five.)  One day that shirt disappeared.  I have mourned it ever since.  Now it has reappeared.  My brother Joe often sends me clothes he has outgrown.  In a recent batch, my short-sleeved blue shirt appeared: much worn, but as lovely as ever.  I enjoy wearing it again.  I would not have thought it of Joe.  I was often told how he wanted to put me in the ash pit when I was brought home as a baby, but I thought he outgrew that when he realized what a wonderful and adorable as well as useful younger brother I was.  I’m disappointed.  I’m almost sorry I returned his shoe brush a few years ago that I borrowed in 1953. (I quit shining my shoes when I retired.)  I’ve even thought of returning his book Archie and Mehitabel (Don Marquis) which I borrowed in 1957.  I think I’ll simply re-read it instead.

Mayor Giuliani, running for President, has said that illegal entrance is not a crime and shouldn’t be punished.  Does this mean that people who enter other people’s houses without permission should not be punished?  (Here in Tennessee, if you enter my home against my will and I am concerned for my safety, I have the right to shoot you.)  What other laws do we have that should not be enforced?  We don’t need a President who won’t defend the country.  I’ve thought no one the Republicans put up could make me vote for Hillary, but Giuliani could.

My bride and I spend a lot of time laughing.  Two of Sheila’s recent gems follow.

An article in Fox news reported that scientists have noted an increase in allergies among children raised in current pristine environments, noting that farm children have fewer allergies than children from less germ and bacteria laden environments.  When I asked Sheila if she had read the article, she hadn’t, and when I briefed it to her, her immediate response was, “What a good mother I’ve been!”  (In her recent dream, dust bunnies were multiplying and surrounding her.)

The other occurred yesterday when I was looking for a treat I had stashed.  Carrying in an empty plate to show her the evidence of the missing treat, her response was, “I know you’re on a diet and I’m trying to help you.  Not every man has a wife who is so supportive.”

Recently we brought a chest of drawers out of storage in the smokehouse to give to Megaera and Shane.  Dusty, buggy and spidery, Sheila announced that it couldn’t enter the house until she had time to spray and clean it up.  Stephen decided to help.  When Sheila went to view his accomplishment and commented on it, he told her, “If you or Dad had been around on the seventh day after creation, Dad would have said, ‘A really benevolent God would have provided apple pie, besides which, what’s with this resting for an entire day when there is so much left to do?’ and mom would have checked out every corner of God’s handiwork, looking for dust, and said, “It’s a start.”  Sometimes one wonders about what one’s children think, but most times it is best not to know.

Stephen was wrong, of course, about me, but I know what he means about his mother.  I decided a piece of rough cut lumber would make a nice bread board, so I sanded it down – over a period of about a month – for the bride.  She looked at it and said, “It’s almost right, just a little more sanding.  Two months later, sanding at the rate of about fifteen minutes a day, she finished saying, “It’s almost right,” on her daily inspections.  I thought a three foot bread board was absurd, but then our daughter-in-law Maria visited, saw it, and said, “Oh how nice, could I have one?”  This time I knew what was coming, so I put in about two months of sanding before I showed it to Sheila.  It was “almost right.”  A month later, again at fifteen minutes a day, she thought it was nice enough for her newest daughter-in-law. 

Rummaging through my desk, I discovered I was down to my last two chocolate covered nougats.  The box was taking up space, which I needed.  So I explained to my bride that we knew that, like beer, it was immoral to eat chocolate before noon, so I was willing to eat both to save her conscience.  She replied, “I’ve never agreed with that idea concerning chocolate, I’ll take my piece.  Other women worry about their husbands and other women, my worry is that I have a husband who is a secret chocolate snatcher.”  Darn.