Saturday, August 22, 2009

Memories

Where I get it from.
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As some readers know, I come from a really crazy family. No big deal. Many times random memories just seem to pop-up into consciousness and they are really quite funny. It's like living in my own sitcom.
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Anyway, my parents loved to drink, a lot. And they frequently got into fights. One night, as I was laying in bed, trying to sleep, violence erupted. My mother had a way of needling my dad - almost daring him to hit her - which he usually did. That particular night was no exception.
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My mother hurled some insult my dad's way which forced him to leap out of his chair at the kitchen table, lunge towards my mom, grabbing one of her arms, ready to strike her with his other hand. My mother caught his arm and dug her nails into it and in a very controlled voice of quiet, yet stern authority, speaking through her teeth, commanded: "Unhand me my man!"
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It was incredible. Dead silence, both of them were frozen in mid-action staring at one another ferociously... Then suddenly my dad burst out laughing, as did my mom. They laughed and laughed, my dad, hardly able to speak, tears rolling down his cheeks, repeating, "Unhand me my man!".
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She tried the same thing at other times, but it never worked as well. I think it was because she added "little" to the phrase: "Unhand me little man!" - my dad hated to be called "little man".
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Guys don't like that.

4 comments:

  1. Don't spose they do! Hilarious Terry! tell us more!

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  2. Oh, the pains of childhood. I forgot most of mine--did that generation just seem to be more agressive than ours???

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  3. Carol7:01 AM

    It's only sadly funny, reminiscent of when my mother switched out our ceramic plates for the utterly unbreakable Melmac (yes, from Alf's planet), so that the next time my father didn't like his arrangement of peas (his excuse to have to go drink), the plate wouldn't shatter everywhere after he flung it across the kitchen. The first time he tried it was even better than anticipated. As my mom ducked in front of the sink when she saw the plate coming, she stayed down a moment, with her head covered. Nothing came down. She looked up to see the plate stuck into the horsehair plaster wall. She looked over at him, and he started laughing, and so did she. He didn't drink that night, but made up for it eventually.

    Violence is a horrible way to live, even moreso for kids, and I'm sorry you went through that, Terry. You deserved better. So did your folks, actually.

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