My uncle emailed me this weekend to tell me a little story. It seems he and my Aunt Kathy used to live next door to this guy named Dick, who had a bronze car.
They were out in a crowded downtown this weekend, and a bronze car went by, and my aunt announced, "Every time I see that color, I think of Dick."
Apparently she got a lot of stares from the crowd.
And that is why I have gathered you all here today. So we can all stare at my Aunt Kathy.
Anyway, that is the topic of today's Pieces of Wisdom: ridiculous stories from your family. They do not have to involve the word "dick."
My Great Aunt Opie, whose name was really Opal–and as an aside, my great grandmother had this big plan to name all of her daughters gem names. She started with Opal, and she was going to name my grandmother Ruby, and my Great Aunt Mary Gertrude Pearl, then she got over it and didn't, and poor Opal was the only one stuck with a gem name. But anyway, Opal was all nervous to meet someone fancy one day.
She was getting ready or whatever and in her mind she was preparing to meet this fancy person. "Good day. How do you do," she was saying in her mind, picturing herself all proper and doing it up right.
"Good day. How do you do." Maybe a little curtsy? Just a handshake? Wait to hear how he really is doing? Tilt the head in curiosity? It was all so exciting.
The big moment arrived and my gem-named great aunt met the fancy person.
"Good do," she said.
See. I come by it naturally.
Okay, I'll give you one more and then you tell me your family stories. This is not anyone saying anything dumb this time.
My grandfather went by the name Chuck. I mean, he wasn't a gem name or anything; his name was Charles, but everyone called him Chuck. In my hometown, when it was your birthday, everyone and their gem-named sister went to Model Bakery to get a cake. I do not know why this was so. I do not know why they had the monopoly on cakes in Saginaw, Michigan. But everyone used them. I used to see my Model Bakery cake in the fridge on my birthday, but I was not allowed to lift the lid to see the color roses used that year until it was time for cake to be served. It was all very thrilling.
At any rate, it was Chuck's birthday and we got out the Model Bakery cake, and there in the middle of the cake it read, "Happy Birthday, Cluck!"
Who names anyone Cluck?
June. Losing readers named Cluck since Pieces of Wisdom day.
Okay. Family stories, please.