Five Easy Pieces

Just when I think Dad is a lost cause, he reminds me why I love him so much. He and my step-mother Di are both making enough money to pay the bills, and a little bit more. As it was in the old days, so it is today, that when Dad has money, we all have fun.

Jackson couldn't wait for his Grandma Di to come for a visit, and even compared his mother to her with unfavorable results.

"You should be more like Grandma Di, Mommy. She plays with me."

And so it begins. I remember when my grandparents came for a visit, like Mr. and Mrs. Claus they bore gifts and had the patience of the earth. They laughed when I was naughty, understood when I was mad, let me have treats when mom and dad weren't looking, and basically revved my little engine and left my parents, who looked on with that veiled promise of future retribution, to slow me down. Like Mustafa's circle of life--with a slight twist.

They arrived with a stuffed animal in the likeness of a St. Bernard, which Emmett thoroughly enjoyed for all of five minutes. His grandma and grandpa took Jackson to Toys R Us and bought him a couple of Hot Wheelz sets, then Grandpa set it up for him on the back porch, and both kids were consumed for the weekend.

Emmett is two years old and is basically a momma's and poppa's boy. If a stranger comes around, or even family, he clings to us until they leave. But something about my Dad got his attention, and within minutes he ran to him and yelled, "Up, up, up." Dad and Emmett are best of friends now. Emmett sat on his lap facing him and slapped Dad's face continuously, and Dad just made a funny face and pretended that it hurt--which it probably did. Now we have to break him of the habit.

They say you can take the boy from the farm, but you can't take the farm from the boy. Dad is a great example. He was on his best behavior for most of the weekend, and even decided to treat the family to some Seafood. When I was a kid, Dad's role model was Jack Nicholson from Five Easy Pieces. I didn't know that until I saw the movie.

The following scene happens at a restaurant, where Jack and three others are ordering breakfast at a roadside diner. Jack plays a character called Bobby:

BOBBY (looking at his menu): I'll have an omelet, no potatoes. Give me tomatoes instead, and wheat toast instead of rolls.

The waitress indicates something on the menu with the butt of her pencil.

WAITRESS: No substitutions.

BOBBY: What does that mean? You don't have any tomatoes?

WAITRESS (annoyed): No. We have tomatoes.

BOBBY: But I can't have any. Is that what you mean?

WAITRESS: Only what's on the menu... (again, indicating with her pencil) A Number Two: Plain omelet. It comes with cottage fries and rolls.

BOBBY: I know what it comes with, but that's not what I want.

WAITRESS: I'll come back when you've made up your mind...

She starts to move away and Bobby detains her.

BOBBY: Wait, I've made up my mind. I want a plain omelet, forget the tomatoes, don't put potatoes on the plate, and give me a side of wheat toast and a cup of coffee.

WAITRESS: I'm sorry, we don't have side orders of toast. I can give you an English muffin or a coffee roll.

BOBBY: What do you mean, you don't have side orders of toast? You make sandwiches, don't you?

WAITRESS: Would you like to talk to the manager?

BOBBY: You have bread, don't you, and a toaster of some kind?

WAITRESS: I don't make the rules.

BOBBY: Okay, I'll make it as easy for you as I can. Give me an omelet, plain, and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast -- no butter, no mayonnaise, no lettuce -- and a cup of coffee.

She begins writing down his order, repeating it sarcastically:

WAITRESS: One Number Two, and a chicken sal, san -- hold the butter, the mayo, the lettuce -- and a cup of coffee... Anything else?

BOBBY: Now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, charge me for the sandwich, and you haven't broken any rules.

WAITRESS (challenging him): You want me to hold the chicken.

BOBBY: Yeah. I want you to hold it between your knees.

The other three laugh, and the waitress points to a "Right to Refuse" sign above the counter.

WAITRESS: You see that sign, sir?!

Bobby glances over at it, then back to her.

WAITRESS (CONT'D): You'll all have to leave, I'm not taking any more of your smartness and your sarcasm!

He smiles politely at her, then:

BOBBY: You see this sign?

He reaches his arm out and "clears" the table for her.

So, my theory is that Dad saw this and took it as validation that every waitress on this planet is out to screw up his order, and he made me nervous every time we went out to eat. He once squirted a waitress with ketchup for delivering his sunny-side-up eggs upside down.

At the Seafood restaurant, our waitress misunderstood my father and didn't bring a glass of wine for his wife. When she came back by the table, his old self bubbled to the surface.

"Uh, miss?" Aggravation was splattered on his face as if painted by a three-year-old.

"Yes sir?"

"Are you going to bring out the glass of wine?"

"Oh, I thought you cancelled that."

He cocked his head and said with tight lips. "No, I didn't."

His wife looked over his shoulder from beside him. "Now John, it did sound like you changed your mind when you ordered the pitcher of beer."

The waitress didn't seem to notice the tension. "Well of course I can bring you a glass of wine. I'll be right back."

When she arrived, Dad had realized his mistake and, like the big fella he is, admitted it to the waitress.

"Sorry about that. That was a misunderstanding." This was said with the sincerity of a forced apology between siblings.

"That's ok," the waitress said, and went into the kitchen.

"Have you been taking anger management courses?" I said to Dad. "That's not the guy I remember." Then I told them all about the ketchup story.

"You were there for that?" Dad asked.

After we finished our main course, the waitress started to roll up the paper table cloth, which upset Dad's beer.

"Ma'am!" Dad yelled. The waitress, far from being startled or offended, seemed amused. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to go!"

"Dad," my wife said as she leaned over the table. "They always do this before they hand out the dessert menus."

"Oh..."

Later that evening Dad and Di had a fight, and Dad decided to let us in on what it was about while Di smoked a cigarette on the front porch. I won't bore you with the details, so let's just come in at the end.

"It's all my fault," he concluded, looking at my wife Beth, "and I don't want you to be mad at Di."

"Oh, I know it was your fault. Why would I be mad at Di?" Beth said.

I laughed as Dad shook his head, hoping that something witty would fall out. But nothing did. He just doesn't get this crazy thing called life, but thank God he has a sense of humor about it--sometimes.