A Note on Bernie Crocker
So it's Father's Day again and I have some stunning news to report to all of you regarding the Wizard (aka My Father).
Because my brother, the Wizard, and I made dinner for the girls on Mother's Day it is only fair that they should be the ones to cook for the boys on Father's Day. So it was. My mother asked me what I might like for Father's Day and I mentioned that I might like her famous homemade burritos and she responded positively and went out and slow-cooked a pork roast and made some of the best meat filling in the history of mankind. She also decided to make her world famous homemade tortillas to wrap around the roasted pork filling. I hadn't asked for the tortillas but was super-excited to be able to have them for Father's Day. I was geeked beyond comprehension. It was going to be a stellar Father's Day to be sure.
Imagine my shock, however, when I arrived at my parents' house this afternoon to find my father (a man's man, a throwback to the good ole days, an all-American male chauvinist) cooking tortillas like he was some behemoth version of Betty Crocker and Tia Juana all rolled into one. I was flabbergasted and, let me tell you, there's a lot of flabber to be gasted. My father has been sissified to the point of nonrecognition. I don't know who he is anymore. I expected him to be burping and grunting on the couch watching the U.S. Open, but, no, he was more interested in the way the tortillas were rising.
I really don't know what else I can say. I hope he has some reasonable explanation for his behavior. Wizard? Please help me see the light. I'm so confused.
Because my brother, the Wizard, and I made dinner for the girls on Mother's Day it is only fair that they should be the ones to cook for the boys on Father's Day. So it was. My mother asked me what I might like for Father's Day and I mentioned that I might like her famous homemade burritos and she responded positively and went out and slow-cooked a pork roast and made some of the best meat filling in the history of mankind. She also decided to make her world famous homemade tortillas to wrap around the roasted pork filling. I hadn't asked for the tortillas but was super-excited to be able to have them for Father's Day. I was geeked beyond comprehension. It was going to be a stellar Father's Day to be sure.
Imagine my shock, however, when I arrived at my parents' house this afternoon to find my father (a man's man, a throwback to the good ole days, an all-American male chauvinist) cooking tortillas like he was some behemoth version of Betty Crocker and Tia Juana all rolled into one. I was flabbergasted and, let me tell you, there's a lot of flabber to be gasted. My father has been sissified to the point of nonrecognition. I don't know who he is anymore. I expected him to be burping and grunting on the couch watching the U.S. Open, but, no, he was more interested in the way the tortillas were rising.
I really don't know what else I can say. I hope he has some reasonable explanation for his behavior. Wizard? Please help me see the light. I'm so confused.
posted by Cool Dad at Sunday, June 18, 2006
7 Comments:
Tom, oh Tom, you have finally crossed the line......It was bad enough that the Fathers day dinner was your favorite. It was even worse that I had to cook it, (Tortillas), but to have to endure your blog as you divulge all of our family doings to the blog-o-sphere is beyond the taste of a good man. I am a man's man, I have grown in my definition of what that means. I think the scripture refer to it as service. I believe that it means to be fair and honest with all that you meet, I believe in allowing all to reach their full potential, and will assist them whenever possible. I could see that your mother was slaving over a hot stove and needed some help, and I offered. I could see that by helping her, it allowed her to accomplish so much more and I felt good about that. Plus as I was cooking, I could see the conclusing to the US open golf tour. I quit burping when I was 37, and have gathered many other etiquette hints to make dinner time a pleasant experience for every one. Rather than taking the good time from your blogging friends, I will come over and have a heart to heart with you on the art of manhood.......Love ya
Lol! I bet that in person around a card table you two are quite a double act! As I see it Mr J ... you're father is turning into a new 21st century man ~ be proud!
Way to go Grandpa....You tell him. You are my kind of man. The man grunting on the couch doesn't deserve my time. I'll take a man like you any day...
Sorry K, but you dad shows love in many simple ways. The fact that he is helping your mom so that she can get more done is a testimony to me. Yes, Grandpa IS a man's man.
Oh, Lucy, you have been decieved. I am appalled that the old man has resorted to creative licensing. I half expected it, though. To wit, I think I heard him burp just last week.
My hubby would say he's been whipped... But then all good men eventually are...
I made my famous slow cooked Pork ribs with my sweet glaze. The guys loved it.
There is a big difference between being whipped and being of service. One is being nagged, conjuled, embarrassed into doing something. Service is rendered because you want to and you see a need. King, this usually comes around 40 years of age. As for the burping, I haven't burp since I was 37, thats my story and I am sticking to it........
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