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Published on Leave a comment on Uncle Melvin and His Niece Share Favorite Expressions

Charlie Brown and the disappearing football 

Oh good! More wit and wisdom from Uncle Melvin! “Wit and wisdom” – what a wonderful expression! But you’re early. You weren’t supposed to darken my door again until Memorial Day or my birthday. But that’s OK. The Federal Reserve Board has designated my birthday the nation’s new Memorial Day. “Darkening my door” – what a wonderful expression! Are you hard of hearing? “Hard of hearing” -- . . . . I know. What’s so wonderful about clunky expressions? 

If you were a German learning English what would you make of “darken my door?” That I was mad at her for perfuming my door with Eau de Town Dump. Do you have a favorite expression? Yes. “Don’t darken my door.” It’s what always comes to mind when I think of Uncle Melvin. I have a favorite expression too. Dare I ask? “It’s none of your business.” How rude! What’s none of my business?  My favorite expression. Well, then, why bring it up? To share one of my favorite things with one of my favorite people. Well, then, go ahead and share it. “It’s none of your business.”

I get it. You’re tricking me into a game of one-upmanship. You should know that I always win. Yes, I’ve noticed. But I still managed to fool you when we played Goats. Filling the beast in me with a lust for vengeance. I darkened your door. Losing makes me feel that way. Especially when I’m tricked into asking for something that’s not there. So cruel (sob!). Yes, when mean Lucy tricks her nice brother, Charlie Brown, by yanking the football away just as he’s kicking it. OK then. I’ll let you know my favorite expression. Finally! “It’s none of your business.”

Uncle Melvin’s new real estate investment

Time out! For what? For me to tell you what I’m thinking without you putting words into my mouth. I’m all ears. And I’m all mouth, so listen up, Uncle Melvin. Get ready for a dose of your talented niece’s wit and wisdom: 

[Talented niece’s wit and wisdom in her own words]

Well. Now I know what Essence of Town Dump smells like. Take that! Consider my door suitably darkened. By the way, what’s that dripping from your fangs? Lust for vengeance! Now, for the last time, what is your favorite expression? I can’t tell you. It makes you mad. It won’t make me mad. I promise. Maybe if I think of another expression. I’m coming apart with rage. “Get your act together.” Hey Uncle Melvin, how about “You just bought the farm”?

Published on Leave a comment on A Sculptor’s Tool and a Dog’s Salvation

Norton, darling, what’s all that racket from the back yard?
I’m sculpting something for Fido.
How nice! What is it?
A wooden miniature Sistine Chapel for his dog house.
And you’re doing it with an ax?
No. My adze. 

That’s not the sound I usually hear from your ass.
I haven’t used it in a long time.
How creative! Is this how other sculptors create works of art?
The ones who work with wood. They’d be lost without their adzes.
Goodness! I wouldn’t want you wandering off without your ass.

I keep it in a special place.
In your pants, of course.
No. It’s way too big for that. I keep it in a drawer.
Oh. Your underdrawers.
The drawer on top where my adze will be secure. 

Your big ass isn’t secure?
It caught on fire once.
From standing too close to the fireplace?
I was heating iron and my adze fell into the forge.
Horrifying! What did you do?

Soaked it in a special fluid.
Melted butter?
An exotic oil that sculptors use to treat wood.
And that’s how you saved your ass.
It saved my career. We couldn’t pay the mortgage without my adze.
Or enjoy our special moments together.

Someday, it could wind up in the Smithsonian.
Dear me! With you, of course.
With my immortal sculptures and other artifacts.
People will flock to Constitution Mall to admire my adze.

It will need to be packed and shipped carefully.
Yes. We mustn’t break your ass.
And insured. I’d recommend Lloyd’s of London.
That makes sense. If they insured Lou Groza’s big toe why not your big ass?

What price should they put on it?
An appraiser said it’s worth a quarter of a million. Maybe more.
What should I tell the shipper?
You’ve got a big adze to ship and it’s valuable. A lot of people would like to get their hands on it. 

Maybe now we can pay for Fido’s surgery
Poor Fido!
Yes. We can apply for a loan and use your ass for collateral.
Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll get right on it.
So kind of you! How can I ever repay you?
You can kiss my adze.

Published on Leave a comment on The Belch

During one of his stemwinding Sunday sermons, the Reverend A. Graham Baldwin paused for dramatic effect. It was at this precise moment that a slack-jawed day-dreaming student in the pew in front of me let loose with a belch, so deafening it could be heard from the fitting room at Elander & Swanton. The poor guy followed this up with a startled “Oh, I’m sorry!” so loud it would have bounced off the carillon at the far end of the campus.

The guy seated to his left, Peter Herrick (’56), wanted to laugh in the worst way. But of course this would have further distracted the Reverend’s rapt audience and gotten him a demerit. So, as I watched from directly behind, his neck swelled to a reddish purple like a magma chamber in a volcano while he valiantly suppressed it.

And that was it. The service and the sermon continued without further incident. Nobody got a demerit. We all continued on our way; our grasp of religious profundities forever punctuated by a resounding belch. And I got to share the memory of it with day-dreaming classmates who probably never noticed.