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February 2, 2001 - Danger: My Mother
Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday!
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"Fourteen out of every ten people like chocolate."
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The Perfect Valentine...GATHERIN' EMILY: Poems of the Heart unabashedly romantic poems by Jesse Wilder - 72pp, hardcover ~a Wind's Errand book - see website for excerpts & gift packages~
"If you stumble over your words when you talk about love, take a lesson from Jesse Wilder." (Sue Jelus, Editor, A New Song)
Available from the publisher, http://www.windserrand.com, or Amazon.com
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Here is a delicious offer for this Valentine's Day: Buy a 1 lb. box of fresh Dan's Chocolates and get a free 9" plush bear! (offer valid until February 14, 2001).
http://www.danschocolates.com/products/groups.phtml?group=Love
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"I have never gone to the bathroom in my life that a small voice on the other side of the door hasn't whined, "Are you saving the bananas for anything?" ~~Erma Bombeck~~
Danger: My Mother
by Anne Goodrich
When I was still in elementary school, I had the kind of stay at home mom that many of us had in those days. A few years later Mom would start her own business - a woman's dress shop - which she mistakenly turned into a success instead of the tax write off my father had planned on. But that was later on, and another story.
Back in the mid-sixties my mother was still that stay at home mom who baked cookies, sewed, was a Girl Scout leader and a volunteer for our school's Parent Teacher Association. Life was normal and suburban and good. Good that is, until the Marion Jordan PTA decided to put on a Christmas play. Oh, it's not that putting on a play wasn't a good idea to raise money for the PTA. Everyone thought performing "The Night Before Christmas," would be a great fundraiser. So did my mom - until they announced who would be playing what characters in their production.
We should have known something was wrong when my mother got home from her PTA meeting, by the way the temperature dropped 20 degrees when you got within a two-foot radius of her. We finally took notice of the frosty expression on Mom's face, and the firm set of her lips.
"Well, you're in the play, right?" we asked, baffled. "Yes," was her monosyllabic reply. "Welllll . . . what's the matter then?" One of my braver siblings inquired. "It's who I am in the play that's the matter."
We knew she couldn't be the father, who would be reading The Night Before Christmas to his family. "Are you the mother?" we asked hopefully.
"No."
"The daughter?"
"No."
We were at a loss here. There was only a father, mother, son and daughter in this production. "Well, who are you then?"
My mother stood there, and we felt the temperature plummet another 10 degrees.
"I'm the dog," was her curt reply.
"Oh." We weren't sure what to say after that. I don't think we could have said anything that would have made my mother being given the part of the family pet in the PTA play feel any better. Even Zsa Zsa, our Airedale, looked sympathetic.
We three kids suddenly remembered homework that had to be done, and that Zsa's water dish needed filling, and . . . and whatever we could think of to quickly tiptoe out of arctic range. I mean, we could see the dilemma here. It wasn't as though we could go out bragging to all our friends - "Yep, my mom's going to be in the Christmas play this year. She's the dog." Better to just keep our noses buried in our textbooks.
However, despite feeling insulted by her part, my mother was a trooper. I think it also helped that my father, a thespian in his youth, convinced her that any part was worth playing well. No, my mom didn't give up and she didn't give in. She went to every rehearsal. (Just what did she practice, we wondered? Different barks?) She even told us that her dog's character had a name - Danger - which we thought was pretty apt, considering. Mom even spent her own money for some knee pads after she started getting sore from running around on all fours on a wooden stage all night. And after awhile, it really started to seem that my mother was enjoying this. Yes, there was definitely a gleam in her eye. We guessed she had decided that being a canine character wasn't so humiliating after all.
It wasn't until opening night that we found out the real reason for that gleam in our mother's eye. We all went to the auditorium that evening to watch Mom perform, and it was a full house. After we settled in our seats, we opened our programs and there was Mom's name all right - "Jeanne Goodrich: Danger the Dog." We slouched down just a bit lower in our chairs as the houselights dimmed and the audience quieted. Then the big, velvet curtains slowly opened with a whisper and the play began.
It was a lovely, old-fashioned looking living room, decorated for the holidays, and the Victorian-looking father announced to his family that he would read them The Christmas Story. He took his seat in the big rocking chair on stage; his wife gracefully swished her long skirt and slid into the small wingback chair beside him, while the eager looking children gathered at his feet. In the midst of this gathering around,
the father called in the family dog to join them - and then came Mom. Of course, you wouldn't realize it was my mother, as she was in a brown doggie costume with a big dog head and floppy long ears, and walking on all fours. But what I did recognize in the first few seconds, when Danger the dog walked out on stage, was that my mother had taken my dad's advice to heart. She was going to play her role to the hilt, with gusto, and she didn't just pad onto that stage like some aging canine, but bounced and wagged her way onto the stage to the sound of the audience's laughter.
Danger (Mom) wiggled her derriere a bit as she stretched and then settled down on the rug on stage behind the father's chair, crossed her paws and yawned an exaggerated, big puppy yawn. The laughter faded to a few subdued chuckles while the father took out a large book and began to read the familiar Christmas tale. The two children sat still, gazing in
rapt attention. But not Danger. Oh no. Danger the Dog was obviously too enthralled by the story to sit still.
"'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse . . ."
Danger's head suddenly lifted from her crossed paws. You could almost hear her thoughts as she turned from side to side, ears whipping around. "Mouse?! What mouse? Here? Where?! I want a mouse! Where's the mouse?!"
We covered our mouths, trying to stifle our laughter.
".when up on the roof there arose such a clatter." Once again, Danger the dog was suddenly at attention, head jerking
towards the ceiling. "What's that noise?! Intruders?! Oh boy, oh boy!" we could almost hear her say.
By this time, it was pretty obvious that most of the audience was not riveted on the recitation by the father in the play, but by the dog whose only line was a tentative "woof". And because Danger was positioned behind the other actors, they couldn't turn their heads and look at her, but it was obvious even to them that something was going on. As the reading continued, you could see how badly they wanted to make a quick backwards glance as their eyeballs furtively slid over in
Danger's direction.
The reading continued, and so did my mom's dog interpretation, and so did the laughter. I don't know if my mother had spent time studying our Airedale, but she had each dog nuance down pat. At just the right momentshe stretched, yawned, burrowed her head in her paws, snapped her head up excitedly, and wagged her hindquarters in perfect canine imitation.
Yes, my mother was a great dog. She took what she thought was a lemon of a role, and performed it with a comedic sense that would have made Lucille Ball proud. It certainly made us proud. Almost forty years later I still remember the time my mother was in a play, spoke not one line, and stole the show. And the Marian Jordan PTA found out that casting my mother in one of their productions was a Danger to contend with.
Anne Goodrich
Copyright 2000
Webmaster@ohangel.com
Anne Goodrich is webmaster of OhAngel!com and daughter of Jeanne Goodrich Forbes, former social worker, business owner, and canine actress extraordinaire. Visit Anne's beautiful website at: www.ohangel.com
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"Anything that is good and useful is made of chocolate."
The Letter Box:
Dear Susan,
Funny Friday has become my favorite way to start the weekend. I save my until right before I leave work to go home and then I can go out the door with a smile. Thanks!
~Sue
Dear Susan,
I love the Funny Shorties and all the stories on Funny Friday, but I have to say, your funny quotes are becoming my favorite! I look forward to them and scan the entire Funny Friday for all the quotes first and I have a file with all my favorites. You have made me laugh on many occasions - keep it up!
~Bridget
Dear Susan,
I just read "Playing Possum" and laughed my butt off! I have read so many of your stories that made me cry - this one startled me to picture you like that and it still makes me chuckle! Funny Friday is the best part of my Friday!
~Theresa T.
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"Hollow chocolate has no calories."
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Submit your funny stories to: Editor@2theheart.com
Feel free to pass this on to your friends!
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