A Man and His Meat

No, this is not a post about Anthony Weiner.

It's Father's Day, so I thought it would be appropriate to tell you a little story about Betty's other half, aka my Dad, Charles.

Charles was a very talented man. He had a beautifully trained singing voice, he was a wiz with electronics and he had an amazing gift of not listening to my mother, and yet, still answering her with the right answer.  Betty would go on and on with a story and Charles had the uncanny ability to insert an "uh-huh" or "oh" or "hmm" at exactly the correct time.  It was as acquired talent, but he mastered it in the almost 50 years that they were married.

But on a summer day in the late 80's, Charles' timing was off.  He was outside in the backyard grilling hamburgers. Betty was inside making the "fixings". I was over for a visit and was in the house helping mother.
Out of nowhere we hear sirens blaring.  We notice it, but didn't pay much attention.  But they kept getting louder and Betty went outside to take a look.  Much to Betty's shock, the siren's were headed down our alley. She started talking to Charles but he didn't respond,  and she came back in the house.  But not too much later, we heard a big ruckus. I am up to my elbows in potato salad, so Betty runs out to see what's going on. And in the shrillest, most annoying voice you can ever imagine, I hear: "Charles get in this house! CHARLES!! GET IN THIS HOUSE!!!! CHARLES!! CHARLES!!" He doesn't pay attention and does not notice anything until about 8 policemen with guns "encourage" him to get in the house as they focus their guns on him and a man lying underneath our sycamore tree.  By this time, I am on the patio, yelling at Dad to come in. In what could have been a scene from a Wyl E. Coyote cartoon, Charles' eyes  popped out of his head and ran in the house with us. I am sticking my head out trying to see and hear what's going, but I can't hear anything because Betty is berating Charles for not listening to her. She won't shut up, so I sneak out on the patio. It seems that this man raped a nurse up at the hospital about a mile away and had been chased by police into our neighborhood and they finally nailed him in our backyard while Charles was grilling burgers. 

So, Charles' timing was off that day. Pre-occupied with grilling, the cacophony of sirens and the shrill descant of Betty's voice, he missed his cue.  And Betty did not let him forget it.

So Happy Father's Day Dad. You were a man of few words, but many talents.

What would Betty say?  "That hospital caused us nothing but problems". And then she would remind me that we never had to lock our doors until that hospital was built. And then she would go on and on about the time a "hoodlum" broke into Dad's " party van" and left a steaming surprise pile of shit on the carpet.