The new son-in-law passed the horseradish tasting test
By Mychal Wilmes
wilmes@agrinews.com
Date Modified: 04/29/2010 10:43 AM
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Tall people easily intimidate me.
That's why when Sarah said that she intended to bring her boyfriend home for Sunday supper, she was asked what her invited guest was like. The most concrete answer was that he was really, really tall. She did not provide more specifics than that. The mind's eye pegged him at right around seven feet, which meant he would have to bend or risk bumping his head on our low ceilings.
Certainly agitated, I went to the succesful community elders — Tom, Scott and Bill — to seek advice. All three have beautiful daughters of their own. I explained that Sarah's as-yet-unmet boyfriend was coming over. I wanted to know what could be done so that he was intimidated and not me. I wanted him to be slightly uncomfortable.
We were in Tom's shed when inspiration struck. We were talking in front of a large poster of Charlton Heston. You may remember him. He starred in the 10 Commandments, Ben Hurr and dozens of other great movies. Later, he became president of the National Riflemen's Association. Heston held a gun and looked more than a little like God might. The poster scared me half to death.
I can't remember which one suggested it, but the idea was hatched that when he arrived for supper, I should make sure to be in the recliner and cleaning the shotgun. That way I could create the impression that I wasn't quite normal.
"You shouldn't have any trouble doing that,'' Bill said.
Other advice followed. Don't threaten or point the gun at him, just offer a handshake and twisted smile.
Sunday came. I dropped the gun-cleaning idea because it seemed unnecessarily cruel. I opted instead to follow my father's tradition by giving the young man a good test. Homemade horseradish made from Tom's garden was served with ham. He hadn't been exposed to horseradish so strong that it could take paint off a new car, but he tried it and insisted it was good. I also noticed that he was several inches short of seven feet and that he wasn't the least bit intimidating.
Other food tests followed. Lamb and duck, which he hadn't eaten before, were served. He liked both. The final and greatest food test would be pigs' feet and sauerkraut. However, Kathy doesn't allow that in the house when she is home. She refused to allow it to be served.
Now the time has come to give Sarah away. I'm not sure that I like that term. Sarah isn't mine to give away. In the old days and still in some society's today, the bride's father is expected to produce an adequate dowlry before the marriage can be finalized. I have no goats, sheep or camels to give, but I did rummage through the sheds and came up with a bent rake, a hoe and a human-powered garden weeder. They would have no use for any of those.
Hence, there will be no dowry.
The marriage ceremony requires practice and pain inflicted from a too-tight fitting tuxedo. The tuxedo inventor must have hated men, because the outfit fits tight in all the wrong places. A tight collar and cumbersome cummerbund makes the father of the bride sweet more than he should given the minimal role in the wedding.
The nice thing about being the father is leaving the females to plan it all. My advice was neither sought nor needed. A small checkbook contribution was all that was asked.
I wonder what grandson Elliot thinks about it all.
Long ago, someone suggested that it is foolish to marry for love and not money. The person who said it clearly must have never fallen in love.
My wife asks me what I recall about our own wedding. I can recall the exact date, but age has washed most other memories away. I do recall praying that I might not faint at the altar. I do remember that the church seemed incredibly hot on an otherwise cold November day.
Mychal Wilmes is managing editor of Agri News. His column appears every week in our print edition. You may subscribe online here.