Dinner with Mom - by Jannie

Back in the day, when we could fit 10 people around the dinner table, we sometimes got a little rowdy and laughy at the table. Mom would go into her lecture of “MY dad used to send us away from the table for laughing like this.” Then suddenly defensive, she added, “ …but HE wouldn’t leave the table if HE were acting like this. HE would stay at the table laughing himself to tears, but if any of US did that (murmur… mumble… murmur)….” The short lecture always morphed into the story about our dear sweet Mother as thin, young teenager who put her elbows on the table. Grandpa, the 6-foot 4-inch masonry man, would take his large hands and lightly slap her under the arm. This lifted Mom’s tiny arm off the table for a moment just to come down from it’s own weight with a light wham! Mom, a little taken aback at what Grandpa just did, determinedly shifted her upper-body weight to her elbow, certain that this would keep it from lifting off the table. To her dismay, it not only didn’t keep it from coming up, but it added weight to the landing, WHAMMING it down even harder – a move she was so sorry to have made. Grandpa would laugh himself to tears while she would rub her elbow and put more weight on it. Poor Mother. None of us ever did get sent away from the table for laughing loudly. Mom was usually the one laughing - pulling Grandpa’s trick on somebody else, or lightly pinching Dad’s arm, or…well…you name it! She’d laugh, laugh, laugh, then suddenly pull a somber face and say with a solemn gasp “Be reverent!” Then she’d pretend no one could see her as she started snickering again.