Excerpt Essay on Colossal Family at Dinner (from my full collection!)

At the head of the table, fingers interlaced, head bowed, he began, “Thank you dear god for the food we are about to receive,” then his beaming noggin shot up, hands spread, and he cheered to his wife and nine children, “dig in!” My father, with a complete working red, green and yellow stop light in our driveway was only serious minded when it came to dedication and family. Which pretty much excludes a lot, like, he was a huge Cub’s fan, forced to be serious minded about any game he anxiously carved out time, of a freakily responsible schedule, to watch, in his chair, in front of his television. His legs were always crossed and you’d see him grin from time to time, but during a Cub’s home game? No laughter.

Here’s another example of when it was perhaps okay, he did always laugh out loud, up until his lifetime final six months – watching re run after re run of the sitcom M*A*S*H*. His brother, my uncle Jackie, got two purple hearts in that useless war. Based on a book by Hooker in 1968, the MASH series went from 1972 to 1983. My intuition feels those were father’s most joyful years.

So the family is leaning forward, stabbing their forks into a vat, trying to get the last of my mom’s homemade stuffed cabbage rolls, when my unusually popular sister Chrissy (maybe because she talks so fast and thinks she knows everything before you do, or better than you do?) pipes up, “In school we learn why I’m a twin and there are more twins we have, right mom?”

“Yes, young lady. Continue, what more?”

Chrissy pointed her bright orange head of hair at one head of the dinner table, “Daddy,” then to the opposite table head, “Mommy,”

My mom stood, pushed in her chair, “Enough, dinner is over, clean up now girls.” Proudly, my mom was a feminist, when it was a good time to be one.