Sunday, July 30, 2006
In honor of my dad, grandma and uncle's birthdays which are all in the last two weeks of July, I offer you this tale which goes a long way toward describing the genetic origins of my twisted mental state.
Several years ago, when my grandmother was in the hospital plugged up to a variety of machines, my uncle, his wife, my dad and my mom stood vigil over her failing health. My dad commented that perhaps it was time to take grandma off of her artificial means of support.
My uncle looked at my dad, walked over to grandma and spoke loudly into her ear, "Mama! Red wants to pull the plug! You don't want us to pull the plug do you?" My uncle was, excuse the pun, dead serious; but, this little episode has became a great source of amusement to the rest of the family. Grandma passed away a few weeks later and my dad swears she gave everyone except him one last loving glance before passing on to that great crawfish boil in the sky. To my dad, according to him, she gave one last evil eye.
Several years later, my uncle underwent major (is there any other kind?) open heart surgery. As my uncle lay in recovery, to the horror of my uncle's children, dad went up to him and whispered, "Hey, Wayne, you want me to pull the plug?" My dad explained the earlier grandma episode to my cousins, but I don't think they were amused. They aren't quite as twisted as my siblings and I. We have a little bit of Courville mixed in with our Ransonette.
My dad recently had major (is there any other kind?) abdominal surgery. When mom told my uncle about the pending surgery, my uncle told my mom that when he sees dad in recovery, he would be asking him if he wanted him to pull the plug. My mom, not knowing dad had whispered those same words to my uncle, was horrified. She told dad she couldn't believe Wayne would even think of saying such a thing to him and my dad, much to my mom's chagrin, said, "Why not? I said it to him."
A few hours after dad's surgery, as he lay in recovery in ICU, my uncle walked up to him and whispered into his ear, "Hey, Red. You want me to unplug something?"
My dad, still heavily sedated, opened his eyes, looked at my uncle, looked at my mom and shook his head and said to mom, "He can't even say it right."
"Pull the plug, Wayne," my dad said, "The right way to say it is 'Do you want me to pull the plug?'"