The Rural Voice, 1998-02, Page 8• Mutual Funds
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Be// Mobility'
4 THE RURAL VOICE
Gisele Ireland
The terror of meeting the in-laws
Lynn Johnston, the cartoonist of
the comic strip, For Better or Worse
is having a ball right now portraying
the reactions of a family when a
"significant" other is being
introduced. In
the same paper
an article was
prominently
featured giving
tips to young
men and
women who
meet the
parents of their
heart-throb for
the first time. It
was a side-
splitting howl,
at least for me
since none of
our "additions"
Introductions can
be rocky
had the chance to read this drivel
before joining the clan.
Our first son-in-law, Carl, didn't
fit the mold at all, at least according
to this article. He's a local lad, and
Super Wrench likely knew more
about Carl's parents than he did — at
least the stuff you never want your
kids to find out about. Carl first came
to my attention when our daughters
talked about his psychotic tendencies
in grade school. He had committed
the unforgivable act of shaving the
flowing tresses off the head of his
sister's prized Barbie doll. Nothing is
sacred in a small town.
Carl is an ideal candidate for a
mother-in-law to manipulate. All you
have to do is open the oven door,
letting the aroma of roast beef waft
by his nostrils, and he's a slave to
whatever you need done that day.
He's been bribed into painting the
spiral on top of the house with the
promise of apple pie and has cleaned
the eavestroughs for homemade
bread with chicken and dumplings.
Our second son-in-law, Steve, had
a rocky introduction to the Ireland
tribe. After his first meal with the
family, he rose and began clearing
the dishes. He didn't stop there, he
neatly scraped and stacked and was
in the process of filling the sink with
suds when Carl and our son Doug
each grabbed an arm and forcibly led
him outside. When the three of them
came back in, there wasn't a mark on
Steve, but he didn't touch another
dish. The damage had been done
though. The women around the table
realized that men were capable of
such strenuous work and now, five
years after he married our daughter,
he still leads the table clearing and
dishwashing brigade. Thanks Steve!
Our daughter-in-law, Tracy, is the
kind of mate women pray to acquire
for their sons. She's teaching him the
domestic arts, at which I failed. He's
learning to like pasta, which I rarely
had the nerve to serve as Super
Wrench & Son always made
disparaging comments about my
offerings, and she's lovingly trying to
teach him to sew on his own buttons
with the admonishment that she
didn't rip them off so was not
responsible for his belly hanging out
for the world to judge the shape of his
navel. Thanks Tracy!
I do have my doubts though about
the future harmony of one newly in -
love couple I heard about over the
holidays. It will take a miracle to
salvage that first impression. Curious
yet?
As reported, thanks to small town
gossip, a young lady went home for
the holidays with the man of her
dreams to meet his parents. Their
elevated lifestyle was immediately
apparent by the opulent surroundings,
formal dining setting, and vast
expanses of thick, white carpeting
throughout the abode. With the
sumptuous dinner, a full-bodied red
wine was served in appropriate fluted
glasses, and after the last course had
been whisked away, she was invited
to bring her wine to the family room,
downstairs, where a cheerful fire
awaited them. At the top of the stairs,
her heel caught in the plush white
carpet, and yes, she did cannonball all
the way down, generously distribut-
ing the potent red liquid over the pale
walls, white carpet and anyone who
happened to be within spraying
distance. I suppose she would have
been forgiven for this faux pas, since
it would only take money to hire a