On Inheriting Silliness and Certain Instant Death

     Weird is a word often used by my children and husband to describe me. I'm OK with that for more than one reason. I can think of many other things that are true that I'd rather not be called out for. I'm sure, too, that others outside of my family wouldn't hesitate to admit I'm weird. I embrace the moniker and wear it as a badge of honor. Just this week my youngest commented on how weird I am. That touched off a conversation about my closest friends and how they too are weird like myself. I love it!

Of one thing I am very certain.... I am definitely a solid representative of my Mother's bloodline. I've thought for the majority of my adult life that I inherited my silliness straight from my grandfather. I have such fond memories of my grandfather talking the craziness that I often hear coming out of my own mouth. My grandfather's easy chair to my young eyes was the pseudo command post of my grandparent's home.  My grandfather sat there and talked craziness and acted like he was in charge. For the most part I saw him as a big kid in a grandpa suit. The truth I can see now is that my grandmother was both the brains and the muscle of the operation. As a child I didn't care so much who was actually in charge. I just appreciated the silly times. I can still see and hear in my mind the trip my grandfather would make multiple times per day from his easy chair to the bathroom. My grandparent's house was really small. It only took about 20 steps to get from his chair to the bathroom. He was a WWII veteran. He always rose from his chair pretty slowly. After he got done sputtering and groaning to get up he would generally launch into some kind of crazy talk. The one I remember the most is a line of a song he would sing. He would belt out "I was riding in the snow, in my Chevrolet" to the tune of Jingle Bells. That's the only line he'd ever sing. He also had a song about John Brown's mule, complete with authentic donkey noises.  I don't remember the words, only the donkey noises. Ask me sometime and I'll demonstrate :)

For the last years of her life my grandfather's mother lived with my grandparents. We called her Mama Hodgins. We spent lots of time with her. I have very, very fond memories of her. She was the sweetest little old lady. I don't feel like I ever knew her really well as she died when I was 12. I do, however, remember specific things about her that make me think perhaps she was silly too. I think immediately about a picture of her with my brother and I. We were really little and apparently had gotten loose in the house  "naked as jaybirds". Somehow we ended up standing in her lap. In the picture she has her hands strategically placed across us so that our "specials" were covered. I haven't seen that picture in a long time but I'm pretty sure she's giggling in the picture. I remember too that she had lots of odd notions. That is part of what my family sees that has brought them to label me as weird. One famous notion she had was that peppermint will cure you of most anything. Because my grandparent's house was small and there were often lots of us in it, sometimes one or more of us would have to sleep with Mama Hodgins. I remember lots of nights being awakened by her and made to suck on a peppermint. We weren't allowed to bite it or chew it. We had to stay awake until it had completely melted. I think I recall her doing that if we would cough in the night. I had terrible allergies and coughed a lot at night. I always thought that was the weirdest thing for a person to do to a kid. The only good part about it was that we got to eat candy in the night. I just wished she didn't have to wake me up. There were some nights that I asked for a peppermint as we were going to bed so I wouldn't cough later. She often fell for it.

I have so many stories of odd family members. The one story that that I believe is the capstone of our family weirdness concerns a family myth perpetuated by Mama Hodgins. I don't know anything about the origin of the story. I just know that it was taken very seriously in my family.  According to Mama Hodgins, a person should NEVER, EVER have fish (of any kind) and ice cream at the same meal. I have fuzzy memories of that  being extended to not having fish and ice cream in the same day.  I have shared that story with lots of people in my lifetime. They all laugh. The truth is... I can't bring myself to try it. According to the family myth, a person who eats fish and ice cream in the same meal dies. That may very well be why I don't eat much fish. If I've gotta choose one or the other, I choose ice cream. Strangely enough, every time I have fish, I crave ice cream. That's likely because it's strictly forbidden.

So, I come by my weirdness honestly. It's a large part of what makes me myself.