Friday, April 06, 2012

I Can Name That Tune In 250 Words Or Less*

[With thanks, yet again, to TangledLou over at Periphery for the nudge in her post The Price Is Right. She asked about loss, specifically she asked what we could write in 250 words or less about "that first time you can remember feeling that sense of loss." The minute I read the prompt, this memory sprang to mind. Though it is difficult for me to articulate exactly what it was, something--maybe even more than one thing--was definitely lost in that moment.]

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To many people, a stuffed green olive--the kind we used to call Spanish olives, before we all got a lot more specific about olives--resembles a horrifically discolored eyeball, but in our house growing up, the red pimento center was the olive's tongue. I wasn't a big fan of the olive itself, but if left to my own devices, I would suck the tongues out of a little pile of olives, before ruthlessly discarding their tongueless carcasses.

Perhaps that's what I was doing the night when I was four and it occurred to me that if I stuck one of those deep red pimentos on the nail of my pinkie toe I might be able to trick my mother into believing I'd hurt myself. Regardless of the inspiration, that's exactly what I did, placing the pimento just so across my pinkie toe before running into the kitchen and yelling with an ingeniously convincing false whine in my voice, "Mom! I hurt my toe!"

She took one look and with a gasp, reached for the paper towels with lightning speed and a look of such sympathy and concern on her face that I immediately regretted my attempt at humor. Instead of triumph, I was flooded with guilt.

I had fooled my mother. A little too well.

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*The only thing worse than mixing metaphors is jumbling up gratuitous game show references so my apologies to TangledLou, Bob Barker, and whoever the hell hosted Name That Tune. (After skimming the Wikipedia entry on the show, the better question might be who the hell didn't host Name That Tune.)

14 comments:

  1. This is just fantastic. Perfect. It socked me right in the gut in a way I can't even explain. Love it.

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    1. Thanks, I consider that quite a compliment.

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  2. Ahh, but I wonder how your mom would remember that story. She probably first felt relief that you were okay, then maybe a little angry that you "cried wolf", then I bet the giggles (although she may not have let you see it) came next. Come now, a four year old with a pimento on her toe? How cute is that?

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    1. Oh, as a mom, I totally would've been struggling to hold back the giggles. :)

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  3. For some odd reason this reminded me of the time when I was about 7 or 8. The media had been ruthlessly covering the kidnapping of a child - don't remember the details. I was scared and envisioned all the ramifications of that. There had been some ransom set in the kidnapping so I asked my mom, "If they kidnapped me, would you pay the ransom?" Her answer? "We don't have any money. I don't see how we could." REALLY????????

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    1. Oh, wow, JT. That's just...um, wow. I can understand how that moment might have stuck with you. Not that we haven't all had those foot-in-the-mouth moments as moms, of course. If it makes you feel any better, I think I kind of get how my story might've reminded you of your own.

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  4. Aww! This post gets the mother in me and the little girl that used to be. I love it.

    We were always a black olive kind of family, and an event wasn't complete without 10 olives stuck onto the tips of my ten fingers.....Sad when the day came my finger were bigger than the olives.

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    1. Oh, we love the black olives, too. I accidentally bought "jumbo" this past Thanksgiving. They were so enormous that there were only about seven in the can. I think you could definitely have fit your fingers in them. I know I did. ;)

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  5. I tricked my mom once into thinking I had a mouse in my hand. No giggling that time. I was in jr. high, so I should've known better.
    Also, olives? Blech.

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    1. Fake mice should theoretically be funnier than REAL ones, right?

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  6. My favorite part is that you shared the first memory that popped into your mind. I feel like you just shared with us one of your most meaningful memories. And I love that in your introduction you admit there are multiple things you lost in this moment, but you can't say exactly what. Isn't that just so, so true? Some of our most powerful moments in life just can't be confined to words, eh? Try though we may, over and over again, to confine them.

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    1. I think you're exactly right about the limitations of words--I say this as someone who has spent her entire life struggling--often daily--to fit all kinds of things into those words. The biggest stuff doesn't seem to fit--though we can get close enough to be understood, I think. I hope.

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  7. I identified with both your feeling and my mother's. My daughter does the olives on her fingers, Michelle. Ah, to live vicariously through our kids. I dread the day when my child will fool me and I will panic...

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    1. I have been trying to think if there was a similar moment for me from the mommy perspective, but mostly my kids like to startle me (I startle embarassingly easily) rather than "trick" me.

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