Behind My Door: Can you believe it?

By Sandra Bernhardt

Look back over your life. Are there incidents you’ll never forget? Of course there are. No one walks through this wild world without collecting a variety of stories that either evoke laughter or a request for a 911 call.

Here are some of mine:

• Can you believe it #1.

Some years ago, my family invited us to join them for Thanksgiving. We were thrilled, since we’d never been invited for a holiday before. Nor for anything. 

I hated to think that Al and Betty had been warned that we’d probably arrive with our three sons stuffed inside our well-ventilated luggage — our strategy for a peaceful drive without fighting over windows.

When we entered Al and Betty’s home, the aroma of roasted turkey with sage stuffing set our stomachs to growling and our mouths watering enough to flood a Slip & Slide. When Betty finally shouted “COME AND GET IT,” my famished sons broke out of the luggage and galloped toward the table. In the rush, Mark tripped and did a “face plant” in the fuzzy carpet. No one cared.

Sadly, there was one huge problem: My hubby, Ralph, is a tall man, so when he approached the table, his head slammed into the overhead six-globe light fixture, now swinging wildly. The crash was deafening.

I instructed my sons to “stop laughing!” (It should come as no surprise that Ralph was NOT laughing.) All of the glass-filled serving bowls glittered brightly. To prevent passing out and falling, Ralph kept his balance by grabbing a hunk of my hair. 

He looked around, hoping for a way to hide, then yelled:  “HEY! SOMEBODY FIND ME A LARGE PAPER BAG!” (Poor devil.)

While Betty scrounged around in the cupboards, feverishly hoping to find something — anything — for a revised menu, Al wandered into the living room to collect himself.  (Bad timing.)

As fate would have it, poor Al witnessed the day’s second tragedy: Without warning, a yellow out-of-control Honda careened across the road and snapped off his brand new red, white and blue mailbox. (I’d never seen a grown man cry before.)

At last, Betty had assembled something questionable for our Thanksgiving dinner: thin slices of Spam marinated for two minutes in apple juice; dark kidney beans in molasses; creamed squash — I believe that was responsible for the mysterious shade of our firstborn’s skin — and for dessert, a custard cup of Cool Whip laced with sprinkles and one Brazil nut on top. Yippee.

It was a quiet meal. Betty’s horrified expression stayed frozen in place until we thankfully headed for home.

• Can you believe it #2: One afternoon, I was waiting at the grocery checkout with my son, Mark. Suddenly, I found myself digging in the bowels of my purse in search of my credit card. Since God wisely decreed that all mothers be psychic, I tested that trait, and voila! Within seconds, I was prompted to remember that I’d left my card in my other purse — the purse with the purple piping. 

Despite the fact that we were holding up the line, the clerk looked kind and empathetic. Her face didn’t. It said, “Listen, lady! Put this stuff back on the shelves or I’ll call the cops!”

It was then that Mark spoke up: “Hey, Mom, just give her your parole card.”

In just three seconds, every nosey checker in the place whipped around and glared at me. End of story.

• Can you believe it #3: One day, I was chatting with my co-worker, Blanche, as she talked about preparing food for her son’s wedding reception. “I’m so excited!” she said, breathing like a C-Pap candidate. “One hundred-and-fifty people have been invited! I plan to make most of the food!” 

“Good grief,” I said, “How will you ever get that done?”

In a self-satisfied tone, Blanche whispered in my ear: DON’T tell anyone, Sandi, but I have a secret solution for getting big things like this done.”  (Clearly, she was a hero.)

“When I give it to you” she said,” memorize it!” 

“Now, for safe-keeping,” Blanche said, continuing her tutorial, “write my secret solution down, and we’ll lock it in my underwear drawer. And don’t worry! My underwear drawer is a very safe place to stash private stuff. My boy, Raymond, rarely tries to pick the lock.”

For over an hour, Blanche droned on about her secret solution and what a genius she was.

As hope and patience slipped away, I pinched Blanche’s ample arm and between my teeth, growled: “For God’s sake, Blanche, tell me the secret solution!” Hurry up! I have to buy foot powder!

Eventually, Blanche gave it up.

“This morning,” Blanche said proudly, “I made potato salad for 150 people. AND, I MADE IT IN MY BATHTUB.”

Suspecting that my Tinnitus was getting worse, I asked Blanche, “Could you repeat that a couple of times?”

Now, for those who, like me, are flabbergasted, I have written a list of coping strategies designed to reverse “Blanche Damage,“ and train our brains to wipe out any memory of bathtub cookery. 

HERE’S WHAT TO DO:

Keep nausea at bay by chugging down one quart of “Milk of Magnesia” every day.

To avoid litigation, stop telling people that Blanche is “unhinged.”

Gently, tell Blanche that you find salad-making in a bathtub very disturbing.

If she has made you feel queasy, avoid bathtubs;

Avoid bathing.

Avoid Blanche.

BURN YOUR WEDDING INVITATION!

(A pledge to my faithful readers: If the Senate is currently in session, I will gladly testify that ALL of these stories are ABSOLUTELY TRUE!)

For more than 30 years, Fort Atkinson’s Sandra (Sandi) Bernhardt has enjoyed humorous public speaking in Wisconsin and beyond. During her career, she served as a human resources director, as well as a customer service consultant for a healthcare company. Active in the community, Sandy is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater and the mother of three grown sons.