Kennedys Got Nothing On Us-Explained
So here is a confession: I spent my Saturday watching Kennedy documentaries. How could one family be so fascinating? So fascinating I abandoned my entire life just to sit on my couch and watch their storied lives. I don't know what my boys did on Saturday, but I can tell you my favorite Kennedy is Bobby.
Then I thought, I should write a post about my fascinating family. Because really, every family is equally fascinating and not fascinating.
And here is what I came up with:
Last night my sister Page's family hosted a musical recital. The performers were Page's children, Clark on classical guitar, Olivia on piano, Emma on piano and Winnie on piano. In attendance that evening were samples of my family members, mixed in with Page's in-laws and a host of neighbors and friends of the performers. Their grand living room was packed. As the event started, I noticed I was sitting on a lawn chair. A metal lawn chair. Would Jackie Kennedy
approve? Lawn chairs in the living room? It was a semi-formal affair, too.
Clark was slated to play about fifteen songs, but we were assured that they were not long songs. Greensleeves, like that. So then there was some discussion about if we should applaud between each song. The Councilwoman said, "You know when you go to the symphony and some yahoo insists on clapping between each movement and it disrupts the mood?" And I asked Chup if he claps between movements. He thought I was funny.
You would think this whole applause issue would be easily resolved, but it wasn't. Debates continued by opposing forces until Page finally asked Clark's guitar teacher to judge on proper clapping protocol. Then somehow it was decided that when Clark stood up we would clap. Which I thought was silly, but you know.
So after five songs, Clark stood up. We noted and started to clap. Then a poopy diaper was hurled at Clark's head. Like the Kennedy's story, I can't make this stuff up.
Page got up to retrieve the diaper. Everyone looked back at those of us balancing babies on our hips. It wasn't me. It wasn't. Anyway, no one said anything about throwing poopy diapers when we were making up our rules about applauding for Clark. I adhere to rules.
Then there was some explanation about the poopy diaper from the guilty party, but I didn't hear it because I too busy thinking of how Rose Kennedy would react. Something tells me, not good.
When the recital was over, Page's elderly neighbor got up off the couch--with the help of her cane--and announced to Page that she was leaving. She did this just as Page, Page's mother-in-law and I were in deep conversation. We paused while Page asked her if she'd like help crossing the street.
"I'll be fine. It was a lovely evening and now I am ready to go home. No help." she stated, and then turned around, and sat back on the couch from whence she came. Twenty minutes later I checked and she was still socializing from the same spot.
Later still, I was talking to Topher about certain serious subjects when Olivia walked by.
"Liv, I love your posture at the piano!" I said, wanting her to know how proud I was of her stoic wrists.
"Yeah, great job!" said Topher. And Liv blushed a little and said thanks.
"Of course you know, I can play that song." He added loudly in her direction as she passed us by.
Topher, he is like the Bobby Kennedy isn't he?
*found the photo here.
Chup told me this morning that the poopy diaper was nothing but a diaper filled with a load of no bake cookies and a note that read:
Clark, It would be crappy if I didn't go to the Homecoming Dance with you.
Would the Kennedy's think that was clever?