Chapter 12 (first continued)

Chapter 12 -- Grandma Pearl takes us for a ride.

During our first whole day in Florida, Grandma took us on a little tour of Tampa in her white Cadillac. She bought a new car every year. Always white and always a Cadillac. She was into real estate and thought it important to make an impression. I thought she was the richest lady in Florida. Hey, she even had rent houses.

Grandma looked natural behind the wheel of a swanky car. It suited her well. Her four passengers? I couldn’t help think that anyone who paid us any mind at all probably thought that the Lady of the Estate was taking her gardeners out to work at her beach house. Even as a kid I thought of stuff like that. I didn’t know the definition of “elite”, but I knew enough to know that it had nothing to do with me… or my family.

Late that evening, Grandma took us out to eat at a fancy foreign restaurant. Spanish, French, Romanian…? While Grandma was announcing our presence to a guy up front, Dad whispered to the three of us that Grandma was paying, so we could order anything we wanted. It was the first time and last time in my life that such a sentence was ever directed toward me. I was free to get anything I wanted.

Eventually, the host guy directed us to a large round table. He even helped Grandma sit down. That was just odd. Odder still was what happened next. The waiter came up and placed a menu in front of each of us. It was the first place Dennis and I had ever eaten that had menus. I’d only seen ‘em in movies. I was flabbergasted. We had a nice-dressed waiter and a tablecloth and more than one fork. And cloth napkins! And did I mention I could order whatever I wanted?

Dennis and I studied our menus. We couldn’t recognize all the weird names for food, but we could sure recognize “fried chicken.” Mom made great fried chicken, but it didn’t come from a restaurant. Restaurant fried chicken had to be the best ever. This was too good to be true… so Dennis slapped me and I woke up back in the rent house. (I’m only joking. We were still in the restaurant.)

Grandma and Dad ordered something-weird sounding. Even Larry went Bohemian on us. I don’t even think he knew what he was getting. The waiter finally looked over at Dennis and said, “And, for you, sir?” Called him a sir. We were just two underdressed kids. Probably had 50 cents between us. Dennis immediately gave me one of his looks. This one meant, “Is he talking to me?” I didn’t want to laugh in front of a super polite waiter, ‘cause I feared I might hurt his feelings. I managed to camouflage my laugh by pretending to blow my nose into my napkin.

Dennis went ahead and ordered the fried chicken with mashed potatoes and a salad. A salad! And he didn’t order the French Dressing, the kind Mom always bought. It was turning out to be one fascinating evening. I didn’t wait for the waiter to call me “Sir.” I immediately chimed in, “Me, too. What he said!”

Then the evening took a turn. Right in front of the waiter Dad let us have it. “No way! You’re here in this fancy French or Romanian restaurant and you order fried chicken? You can get friend chicken at home! What’s the matter with you two?”

Grandma instantly got after Dad for yelling at us. Then she told the waiter to get us the chicken. I should’ve felt good about that, but I didn’t. Dennis and I felt like clods. I can’t speak for Dennis here, but my sense of clodness was due to the fact that I couldn’t even order a meal right. The only bright side was the sense that I didn’t have to ever again worry about pleasing Dad. It was beyond my capabilities. I was just a stupid little kid. Fried chicken? What was I thinking?

When our plates came out, it was obvious that Dad had been right. When at a Romanian restaurant, never order the fried chicken. Maybe since the Iron Curtain came down they’ve improved a bit. But, back in the day, they cooked a vile bird. And, they didn’t cook it very long, either. That place could’ve really used Mom. Oh, and the salad was completely ruined. As bad as French Dressing is, whatever they used in that Portuguese place was worse.

At one point during the meal Dad had me get a spoonful of his freaky bean soup. Looked a little like hominy soup. I took a bite ‘cause I was too scared not to. The beans were delicious. Dad said, “See what you’re missing?”

Yes sir, I could see. Fifty years later, I can still see. I had an anything-I-wanted pass, and I blew it. I couldn’t even “want “right.


The next day we didn’t do much at all. I don’t believe we even saw Grandma. By late evening we were way bored. No television, no radio, no board games. Just a few gallons of grape juice.

We were sitting on the porch – There were no lawn chairs. We were ON the porch. – When Dad told us to hop in the car. He had seen a Drive-in theatre the day before and we were gonna go. And, we were getting popcorn and a Coke, too. I’m not making this up. Dad had gone bonkers. We lit off that porch like we were a tire crew at Indy.

Two Elvis pictures were showing that week. “Jailhouse Rock” and “King Creole.” I don’t remember much about either movie, other than Elvis found an excuse do some singing in each. Seems like “King Creole” had the better story. Didn’t matter. The popcorn was great and we didn’t have to drink grape juice.

The next morning I got my plastic guitar out and I was doing some serious Buddy Holly singing. Never was that big of an Elvis fan. Buddy Holly was the King as far as I was concerned. I didn’t even get to sing “It doesn’t matter anymore” before it was time to shove off to meet Grandma again. (“Now, you go your way and I’ll go mine. Now and forever till the end of time…” Buddy Holly rocked.)

This was to be a fun and exciting day. It was the day that Larry almost got eaten by a shark. “Almost” is such an important word. On it hangs both lost elation and avoided tragedy. What happened is that Grandma took us to the beach. Not sure where. The Gulf side of Florida. The color of the water was pretty much what you’d expect at Galveston, and the beach sand didn’t inspire me all that much. But, the waves. The sea was angry that day, my friend. Surfers would laugh at such a statement but for a kid who never saw much more than a two-foot wave, this was big stuff.

Dennis and I were a bit too scared to do much more than wade out a little ways. We’d get up to waste-deep, but that was about it. Larry was so much braver. He went way out there. So, far out that I worried for him. The worry turned to terror when a kid down the beach yelled that he saw a shark. And, he pointed to the area near where Larry was treading water. “See? Look right there. There it is again!”

Sure enough, there it was. I saw something. A big fin it was. Looked more like the fin on a sailfish to me. Of course, I didn’t know a sailfish from a mackerel. All I knew was that I heard someone yell “Shark!” and I saw a fin. Thought I did, anyway. Wouldn’t have doubted myself had that kid not yelled “Shark!” That made me see fins everywhere.

It really surprised me that Dad and Grandma didn’t get all that excited. I couldn’t get ‘em to budge. They couldn’t see anything. “Oh, Mark, it’s nothing to worry about. Now, go look for shells or wade.”

Dennis didn’t even see any fins out there, but I got him to wade out in the water with me and yell for Larry to come to shore. We did a lot of yelling, let me tell you. My big worry had to do with Larry’s bathing suit. It was red. I thought the shark might see the red and think it was blood. That would be, like, like really bad.

So Dennis and I yelled and yelled, and eventually Larry looked over and saw us jumping up and down in the water waving at him. That pretty much scared him. He probably thought Dad wanted him to come in so we could leave. So, he turned and headed in just before the shark was going to get him. Probably a nanosecond before. We saved his life. Mostly I saved it. It was like the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” I couldn’t get anybody to believe me. Even Dennis didn’t have his heart in it while he was yelling. I could tell. Dennis was a better yeller than that.

Shortly after Larry made it to shore, we loaded up and left the beach. That evening we ended up on a big pier where we did some fishing. Mostly Larry and this girl fished. Seems Grandma tried to match Larry up with this girl she knew. I don’t know where from. I assume it was the daughter of someone she had dated. Maybe someone she sold a house too. Regardless, Larry stood there on that pier and did his best to impress the girl. I couldn’t blame him.

Everything went pretty well up until the time the girl reeled in a dogfish. I had never heard of a dogfish until that moment. An appropriately named fish, the dog. It looked almost as gross as you can get. I saw a weird eel once on Disney that had to be the grossest. Freaked me out. But this dogfish was just nasty looking. The looks had nothing to do with its name… I don’t suppose. It was the noise that slimy creature made when Larry grabbed it. The thing let off a gargly bark. It was so unnatural for a fish to make any noise, but the sound of that gargly bark about made me sick.

And, there was Larry, trying to impress his date. The girl had caught the fish, but Larry was bound and determined to take it off the hook. So stupid. Everyone in the Free World knows that when a slimy fish barks at you, you just cut the line. Larry would have none of it. He didn’t have gloves or anything. He ended up with muck all over his hands. Eventually somebody handed him a pair of pliers and he got the hook out. I didn’t see that part, ‘cause I was a few pilings over gagging.

I don’t know what Larry’s thoughts were, but I was a bit disappointed in Dad. Thought sure he would grab the dogfish, stick his finger down the throat and de-hook the demon. Dad was a noodler for heaven’s sake! He’d swim along the muddy banks of creeks in Oklahoma ,and go under water next to a stump and come up with a giant catfish. Anybody who’s not afraid of doing that is someone I want on my team. But, the only noodler in the family didn’t lift a hand to help Larry out. I assume he was trying to teach him a lesson. Either that or the dogfish was grossing Dad out, too.

I’m left to believe that Larry’s date was not all that impressed with my oldest brother. Or maybe she was, but hated to get more involved since they lived 1000 miles apart. That’s closer to the truth, I’m sure. Regardless, we never saw the girl again. I was glad of that ‘cause I knew that I’d never be able to look at her without thinking of that slimy barking fish. Isn’t it weird how things work out?

The next day there was more fun waiting for us. The excursion would come close to killing Dad, but, all in all, it was a worthwhile endeavor. I think any adventure is good if you survive it and, in doing so, you learn something from it. There are, no doubt, a few dozen exceptions to that, but the line reads well, doesn’t it? It’s true that, at the time, I would’ve rather been noodling for dogfish than to have to go through what we did, but that was only because I thought I was gonna die along with Dad.

And, that puts us on the second “to-be-continued” portion of Chapter 12. The chapter that won’t die. In a couple of days I’ll have us home. Hope to see you then.