Until a few months ago, I never really understood how older people could be so shameless in their rudeness. Yes. Older people can be shamelessly rude and I think I’m starting to appreciate why. I am also looking forward to cultivating this attribute.
Think about it: you spend hours testing out a new recipe for a family dinner. You brightly think to yourself, “Hey, I’m going to use Thanksgiving dinner as my very first try of this fabulously complicated dessert, that will be the only dessert I serve after dinner.” Not only is this your first attempt at the recipe, you also choose to make it the day of the big dinner. Needless to say, it doesn’t go well.
There are tears, language that young children should never hear until they are at least 30 and either undercooked or burnt offerings for dinner. All this sacrifice is made in the name of your fancy, first-time-making-it dessert.
Now as your guests begin entering your home with much trepidation given the obvious tension in the air, they quickly notice the state of pure mayhem in the spaces you define as your kitchen and dining room. You and the other residents of your home sheepishly try to make everyone to feel welcome. Fortunately for you (but unfortunately for your guests) they feel obligated to stay for dinner for two reasons: 1. they didn’t bother to eat all day because they planned to gorge themselves on your dinner; and 2. they don’t have any food at home (which is why they didn’t eat) because they planned to gorge themselves at your dinner AND take home left overs!!!
Eventually, you and your guests take your seats around the dinning table covered in food. The turkey looks quite suspect: tinges of pink across thighs and charred areas elsewhere; congealed gravy giggling in its dish; rice and mashed potatoes each looking a bit soupy in their respective bowls; and the salad … well, you’ve proven that salad can be ruined!
Hunger and good manners makes your guests somehow force this feast down, with one exception: your great uncle who we will call Uncle Henry. Uncle Henry is in his 80s. Uncle Henry has hosted many family dinners over the years, many of which you attended. The food was always described as good.
After the torture of your meal, you have the nerve to acknowledge to your family that the meal was slop. You actually admit to knowing your entire meal was a likely gateway to a prolonged visit to the bathroom. Then as part of your redemption play, you say the involuntary sacrifices you forced everyone to make was in the name of this dessert. So you bring out.
You present what is supposed to be a seven-layer, chocolate torte cake covered in a glossy ganache. What you actually bring out is a lop-sided chocolate mess that does nothing to inspire a glimmer of confidence in your ability to even cook toast! And this is where Uncle Henry finally tells you in graphic detail what everyone has been thinking of your cooking skills.
Uncle Henry references hospital emergency rooms and pig troughs as he itemizes the lists of fails in the evening’s meal. He then gets even more graphic about the nightmares he believes your desert will cause him.
Polite society would rightly describe Uncle Henry’s outburst as rude (although truthful). He would probably refuse to make any apologies for a few simple reasons: 1. He doesn’t know how many family meals he will have the fortune to enjoy (clearly he didn’t enjoy the most recent one); 2. He truly believes his outburst will inspire (and perhaps terrorize) you into becoming a better host and cook. And guest what? I think he is right.
Too often we couch our true opinions and feelings in a platitude of unproductive fluff so as not to offend. But, it is a lifetime of insincere words of advice and praise, that lead to the sort of meal Uncle Henry had to endure. And it is this that finally brings many of us in our later years to be shameless in our rudeness!
Laters & G’night,
Mantha
End of a Decade 