Hello. My name is...and I am the child of a horrible parent.
My father, who shall remain unnamed, would lie to us. Well, mostly my baby sister who was, in her youth, very gullible. The stories he would tell were so far-fetched and so funny that I remember them to this day. Among my favorites were the ones about the milk and the hot chocolate.
About once every couple of weeks, my family would drive from Sonoma down to either Pacheco or San Lorenzo to visit family. The drive down took us over the Richmond Bridge and past the oil refineries of Richmond and Benecia. It always smelled so bad that my sister and I would beg for clothespins to hold our noses shut. I would laugh at the way we looked when, once, my mother came prepared. My sister - I love you oh sister mine! - would whine about the smell, even while wearing her wooden clothespin.
Well, on one of these drives, my father became inspired. As we drove by the tanks full of crude he began to spin his tale. A tale that would make the whining stop, replaced with awe and wonder.
"Hey, M," he said. "See those white tanks over there?"
"Uh-huh," she replied while mouth breathing.
"You know what is in those?" he asked.
"Stinky stuff." she responded.
"Now, that is where you would be wrong." He said in a voice reserved for the imparting of wisdom. "
"Then what is it?" she asked.
At this point my brother and I were paying close attention because, being so much older the our sister, we knew that this was going to be a humdinger.
"Well, those white tanks are in the process of being filled with milk." He said sagely.
"Really? Really, Dad?" She was amazed!
"Yes, really. And, as soon as they are full, they are going to start running milk into the homes here."
"Nu-uh." She had grown skeptical.
"What? You don't believe me? It is true. I swear it is true!" he stated. "And the pink ones, are for strawberry milk and the brown ones are for chocolate."
(at the time there were truly pink, brown and white tanks)
My sister's eyes got big. She loved strawberry Quick and was so excited by this thought.
My father, who shall remain unnamed, would lie to us. Well, mostly my baby sister who was, in her youth, very gullible. The stories he would tell were so far-fetched and so funny that I remember them to this day. Among my favorites were the ones about the milk and the hot chocolate.
About once every couple of weeks, my family would drive from Sonoma down to either Pacheco or San Lorenzo to visit family. The drive down took us over the Richmond Bridge and past the oil refineries of Richmond and Benecia. It always smelled so bad that my sister and I would beg for clothespins to hold our noses shut. I would laugh at the way we looked when, once, my mother came prepared. My sister - I love you oh sister mine! - would whine about the smell, even while wearing her wooden clothespin.
Well, on one of these drives, my father became inspired. As we drove by the tanks full of crude he began to spin his tale. A tale that would make the whining stop, replaced with awe and wonder.
"Hey, M," he said. "See those white tanks over there?"
"Uh-huh," she replied while mouth breathing.
"You know what is in those?" he asked.
"Stinky stuff." she responded.
"Now, that is where you would be wrong." He said in a voice reserved for the imparting of wisdom. "
"Then what is it?" she asked.
At this point my brother and I were paying close attention because, being so much older the our sister, we knew that this was going to be a humdinger.
"Really? Really, Dad?" She was amazed!
"Yes, really. And, as soon as they are full, they are going to start running milk into the homes here."
"Nu-uh." She had grown skeptical.
"What? You don't believe me? It is true. I swear it is true!" he stated. "And the pink ones, are for strawberry milk and the brown ones are for chocolate."
(at the time there were truly pink, brown and white tanks)
My sister's eyes got big. She loved strawberry Quick and was so excited by this thought.
Then, to put the proverbial icing on the cake, he pointed off into the distance to a smoking stack and served up his last bit of tall tale...
"And, see that smoke stack in over there?"
"I do! I do!" my sister exclaimed, really excited by this point.
"They are heating up the chocolate milk so kids can have hot chocolate whenever they want!"
From that day on, whenever we would drive down to the south bay area, rather than whine about the smell, she would ask if Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim had strawberry milk yet.
Then, one day, the questions stopped. I think she caught on. Our father was a horrible parent that lied to his children.
I think I took after him. One day I will have to tell you all about Janice and the salt mines.
No comments:
Post a Comment