Always Please a Woman
Jackie said I should write about it because it was the only story I told her in more than 20 years that she hadn't heard before. It wasn't much of a story but it never is a wise move to ignore something a woman tells you to do. Especially if that woman happens to be your wife, so I'll write about it.
The lead up to this story came when for the fortieth time I mentioned a couple of Irish relatives in Connecticut back in the 1920s. The matriarch, the Irish Mammy, made apple dumplings but no one would eat them, including her son who was about 12. He was the only one dumb enough to tell her the apple dumplings were too hard and not fit to eat. So she sat him down and made him eat the whole dozen.
Then we got talking about a restaurant in Muncie where the owner's mother came down from South Bend once a year and cooked spaghetti. It was watery and pretty bad so Jackie said it was a good thing I never said that at the time or Mama would have come out of the kitchen and made me clean my plate. That led me to say it had happened to me in the Army. Jackie said, "You never told me about that," so I told her and she said I should write about it so here goes.
It was at a camp in England where there was a sign like you found in a lot of mess halls: "Take all you want but eat all you take." That was ridiculous because I never was in a mess hall where you took anything. You just walked down the chow line and KPs would slap stuff on your tray.
On the day in question it was spaghetti. Awful stuff not even fit for the garbage can where I tried to dump it. The mess sergeant stopped me and told me to go back and eat the rest of it. I went back to a table, but wouldn't eat. The mess officer came over, sat with his butt on the next table so he could look down on me from a position of authority. They cleaned up the mess hall and everybody left except the officer and me. Hours went by, but I wouldn't eat. Finally about 9 o'clock or a little later the officer stood up, gave me a good cussing and told me to get out. I figured he had a hot date lined up with an ATS girl or something.
So that's it. Jackie wanted me to write about it so knowing which side my bread is buttered on, I did.
The lead up to this story came when for the fortieth time I mentioned a couple of Irish relatives in Connecticut back in the 1920s. The matriarch, the Irish Mammy, made apple dumplings but no one would eat them, including her son who was about 12. He was the only one dumb enough to tell her the apple dumplings were too hard and not fit to eat. So she sat him down and made him eat the whole dozen.
Then we got talking about a restaurant in Muncie where the owner's mother came down from South Bend once a year and cooked spaghetti. It was watery and pretty bad so Jackie said it was a good thing I never said that at the time or Mama would have come out of the kitchen and made me clean my plate. That led me to say it had happened to me in the Army. Jackie said, "You never told me about that," so I told her and she said I should write about it so here goes.
It was at a camp in England where there was a sign like you found in a lot of mess halls: "Take all you want but eat all you take." That was ridiculous because I never was in a mess hall where you took anything. You just walked down the chow line and KPs would slap stuff on your tray.
On the day in question it was spaghetti. Awful stuff not even fit for the garbage can where I tried to dump it. The mess sergeant stopped me and told me to go back and eat the rest of it. I went back to a table, but wouldn't eat. The mess officer came over, sat with his butt on the next table so he could look down on me from a position of authority. They cleaned up the mess hall and everybody left except the officer and me. Hours went by, but I wouldn't eat. Finally about 9 o'clock or a little later the officer stood up, gave me a good cussing and told me to get out. I figured he had a hot date lined up with an ATS girl or something.
So that's it. Jackie wanted me to write about it so knowing which side my bread is buttered on, I did.
posted by Dick Stodghill | 8/02/2009 12:57:00 PM
5 Comments:
What was with that guy?
If you mean the guy in the picture, that guy was me. Handsome devil, wasn't he?
If you mean the guy who owned the restaurant, all I remember is his name was Tony.
...the mess officer....
I guess he was just showing me that he was boss. Like the officer at Fort Harrison who told recruits, "The first thing you need to about the Army is we can't make you do a thing."
After a pause he added, "But we sure as hell can make you wish you had."
That should be "need to know. . ."
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