Family - The Ties That Bind...And Gag! by Erma Bombeck Read Free Book Online Page A

hour, it was designed to be a gathering place for the family, where they would sit around and exchange pleasantries about the asparagus.
    Our family, when we got together, sounded like we were attending a lynching.
    The problem at family dinners is that no one can agree on what is considered to be a “fit topic to discuss at dinner time.” Children tend to talk about things that take away your interest in food—and living. At one meal alone, I heard a description of the underside of the tongue, a rumor of what popular food contained rats' nostrils, what pureed peas remind you of when you look at them from a distance, and what happens to a dog's stool when he eats leftover chicken.
    Men prefer to talk about money. Within minutes they can make you feel guilty for asking for seconds on the salt. They also take the opportunity to lay on the family their famous lectures on “An 'E' on the gas gauge does not mean evacuate,” “Don't reach out and touch somebody unless it's collect,” and my all-time favorite, “Why do we have to straighten his teeth? He never smiles anyway.”
    Mothers use the togetherness of the meal to discuss the sins children committed in their diapers. (“No one ever amounted to anything who made a bed with a coat hanger.”)
    As a cook, I don't know how much longer I could have endured the eating habits of my family. I discovered the more teeth the kid had, the less he chewed. They never ate anything that was green or was contained in a sack with their name on it. They never ate the same cereal twice and believed in their hearts that the dog got better food than they did.
    Eventually, even my husband and I were seduced by the convenience of dining out. No wonder I loved it. I had never seen so many people in my life before. As we drove up to a restaurant with our friends, a valet opened our car door and said, “Hi, my name is Hal and I'll park your car. Have a good dinner.”
    I said, “Thank you, Hal. I'm Erma and this is my husband, Bill, and our friends, Dick and Bernice.”
    Inside, after we were seated, a young woman appeared and said, “Good evening. My name is Wendy, and I'm your cocktail waitress. What could I get you this evening?”
    I introduced all of us again and we ordered something from the bar. My husband leaned over and said, “So, Dick, what's happening?”
    A waiter brought a basket of bread to our table and said, “Good evening, folks. I'm Brick and these are our special toasted garlic rounds with just a hint of Parmesan and fresh parsley. If you need more, yell. Enjoy.”
    “Thanks, Brick,” my husband said. “So, what's happening, Dick?”
    Another waiter appeared and said, "Hello, I'm Stud and I'll be your waiter for this evening. I'd like to interrupt for just a minute to tell you about our specials this evening. The chef has prepared osso buco. This is made from knuckle of veal, garlic, chicken sauce, white wine, tomato paste, and anchovy fillets finely chopped.
    "The catch of the day is smoked cod's roe, which the chef makes into tarama salata smothered with black olives, heavy cream, lemon, and olive oil.
    “The soup of the day is everyone's favorite, watercress and apple, with just a pinch of curry. I'll give you a minute to decide.”
    Numbly, we looked at one another. His monologue had lasted longer than most marriages.
    “So, Dick, what's happening with you?” my husband began again.
    Wendy reappeared and said, “Refills, anyone?”
    We shook our heads. Stud followed her to the table and said, “Are we ready to order now?”
    No sooner had Dick and Bernice agreed to share the salad than a table appeared and Stud narrated the drama of the birth of a Caesar salad like a midwife.
    Meanwhile, Frank (the chef) appeared with a naked fish, which he stuck under my nose for approval. (Thank God I didn't order the strangled duck!) After the salad table came another table with flames leaping off it, and Stud electrified us with his commentary on sauce for the Moroccan