That New Year's Eve When I Washed My Own Mouth Out With Soap

I grew up in a different time. Which I suppose is my way of admitting that I'm kind of old. We won't get into all the things I didn't have back then or all the problems I have with "kids these days", but it really was kind of different growing up in the 1970s and 80s. I almost feel like some aspects of my childhood were closer in spirit to the 1950s than today. Having said all that, I will also say that I never had my mouth washed out with soap as a form of punishment for the kinds of shenanigans that kids get into. That seems like a good preface for this little story (especially considering the title and the photo above).

I have written about celebrating New Year's Eve as a kid here before. In Happy New Year 1976! I was able to do some detective work to confirm a vague memory of a New Year's Eve party from my childhood. In this post we will explore another ancient New Year's Eve memory from around that time. But this one doesn't need to be confirmed through research--I don't think there would be a way to even attempt to do so. In the recent post Reliving an Embarrassing Moment from My Youth I wrote about something that happened to me as a kid that I found so humiliating that I had always kept it to myself. In reality what had happened was kind of a small thing (I wore two different sneakers to school one day back when I was in middle school) and I don't think anyone other than myself even noticed. I realized that my mind had categorized this as a traumatic event when it really wasn't. It was kind of a minor event that was built up to be something big by my psyche--and the blog post itself. It felt like I was baring my soul and putting something "out there" (airing my dirty laundry as it were) by writing about it all these years later. It almost seemed like a cathartic thing to share (maybe even therapeutic in a strange sort of way?). But I'm sure that readers were left feeling kind of like "that's it?"

Before we get any further it's worth mentioning here that this is another example of an embarrassing moment from my youth. And it's once again a quite minor thing that was more of an embarrassment in my mind than it was in reality. In fact I had never shared this story with ANYONE from the time it happened until probably 10 or 15 years ago or so when I shared it with my best friend and his wife. It was probably during a New Year's celebration of our own and I felt enough time had passed that it was more of an amusing kid story than anything else. Well, my friend's wife has gone on to say that THIS is her favorite story of mine from when I was a kid! So it's probably a good one to share here, now that I seem to be opening up and writing about all the embarrassing moments of my youth.

I was part of a big family. I have eight siblings (seven sisters and one brother). When I was a kid my family had pretty substantial New Year's Eve parties. They kind of petered out before I hit my teenage years, but I do have some fond--if hazy--memories of them from when I was little. One of the most important parts of these parties was the food. My father would go out of his way to put all kinds of interesting and exotic shacks out on our kitchen table. Frequently there would be things you (especially as a kid) had never seen or even heard of before. It was fun, but there was also something kind of mysterious and even intimidating about it. What is this strange stuff? Should I dare to eat it? Will I be made fun of if I DON'T try it? Not everything was exotic and foreign of course. I dimly remember there being standard cocktail party fare like olives, pickles and cheese & crackers on the table next to things like Vienna sausages (with burning Sterno fuel to heat them up) and chocolate covered ants or grasshoppers. Here's a couple photos from one of our New Year's Eve parties (December 31, 1977) that my sister found and put up on Facebook a while back. This is probably a couple years after the events of this blog, but certainly close enough to be a great illustration for the story:

New Year's Eve celebration 1977-78

Me partaking in some New Year's Eve snacks

In "Happy New Year 1976!" I was six years old. While I don't exactly remember when this memory came from I know I was quite young and it seems fair to estimate that if it wasn't December 31, 1975 it was probably within a year or two of that New Year's Eve. Among all the food choices on the table was something that doesn't seem especially odd or exotic. It was a container of cottage cheese. Of all the things spread out on the table that's the ONE item I recall in this memory. I remember seeing this clumpy, white substance that was called "cottage cheese". I knew cheese (especially varieties like American and cheddar) but had never seen something like this lumpy, almost liquid substance that was referred to as being "cheese". It certainly didn't look good, but it seemed like I should at least give it a try. The only problem was that...I couldn't get myself to actually go through with it. It seemed too off-putting for some reason (It looked gross? It seemed like something too "grownup" for me to be eating? It looked more like cheese that someone had already eaten and thrown-up?). Whatever the reason I simply couldn't bring myself to take a little sample of the cottage cheese and try it out for myself.

But it kept bugging me for some reason. I can't imagine that anyone who was there that night could have though back then that forty-plus years later that little container of cottage cheese would be pretty much the ONLY thing I would remember from that night. But it's true. Well, actually it's almost true. There was one other thing that stuck with me, and that's because it was (or seemed) like it was related in some way and would become forever linked to the cottage cheese in my memory.

Here's our kitchen table around 1972

As has already been mentioned, I was pretty young (and thus physically small) at the time. I vaguely remember being one of the smallest people at the party and able to navigate through and around all the bigger people semi-unnoticed. While that strange cottage cheese dilemma (should I eat it or should I not?) played out in my mind I kept seeing it sitting there on the table. But I also spied something else too. This something else wasn't ON the table, but was instead UNDER the table. On the floor under the table nearly against the wall was something white. My size made it pretty easy for me to see it hiding out in the dark. I decided that it was a bit of cottage cheese that had managed to find its way onto the floor. And then I made the decision that this new "floor cottage cheese" was my solution to the problem. I would sneak under the table and try out some of the cottage cheese in private where nobody else could see me. Why I felt that this was necessary when there was a whole container of the stuff sitting on the table available to anyone (including myself) that wanted to try some I can't really say. The fact that I couldn't bring myself to eat the stuff on the table seems to have morphed into the belief that I wasn't SUPPOSED to eat it. It somehow became something that I needed to SNEAK a taste of. It's almost like cottage cheese was an adults-only kind of a thing (like the beer, wine and champagne that the grownups were drinking).

Whatever the reason I suddenly felt a need to sneak under the table and try some of that forbidden cheese! Finding the right moment I ducked under the table--not a terribly difficult thing for a little kid to do. Once I was sure no one was looking I made my way toward the back wall and my prize. There it was--the mysterious and tempting cottage cheese. I reached out and picked it up. My mind didn't seem to notice that the consistency of this particular bit of cottage cheese was quite different from what I had seen on the table. It was solid--more in line with what I had traditionally thought of when I thought of cheese. But it was indeed white. Probably the only thing on the table that was that white was the cottage cheese, so this MUST have been cottage cheese too, right?  I brought the object closer to my mouth and I took a bite. Well, it turns out that this thing WASN'T cottage cheese, and I knew it instantly (even having never tasted cottage cheese). No, this out of place object was actually a piece of soap. Why a piece of soap was sitting on the floor under our dining table in the kitchen I have no idea, but there it was. And while I have never had my mouth washed out with soap for doing something "wrong", I suddenly found myself in the odd position of washing my OWN mouth out with soap. There certainly wasn't a "reason" for me to be doing so beyond mistaking one white object for another, but in a way it almost seems like I was unconsciously punishing myself for coveting that forbidden cottage cheese. However one might choose to define my actions I had indeed unwittingly taken a bite of soap. And it wasn't a pleasant experience. Not at all. But it did become one moment of a long-past New Year's Eve celebration that I still recall to this very day more than forty years later. I can't say that anything else from that night was stored in my long-term memory, but that strange cottage cheese/soap incident is forever etched in my mind.

And as a postscript it might be worth mentioning that cottage cheese is STILL something that I don't like. Actually, I don't think that I've ever even tried the stuff to this very day. I don't expect that it will taste like soap or anything, but I DO still find its appearance and consistency to be off-putting. It just looks lumpy and gross! It might seem that the appropriate way to end this post would be by saying that in honor of finally sharing this memory I also finally went ahead and tried out some cottage cheese. That could be a good way to illustrate some form of closure or something, right? But...well...no. Just, no.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

The Elf Pants: A New Holiday Tradition!

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have started this post off with the photo above. It may have been more effective to instill a bit of a sense of intrigue and build up some mystery about what this "New Tradition" I speak of is all about. But you can't really title a blog "Elf Pants" without showing some elf pants, can you? Anyway, let's get to the point.

This little story about the genesis of a new holiday tradition for our family started back in August while we were at The In-Laws' house. And I should probably mention here that this "Family Tradition" is really probably only considered to be a tradition by me at this point. I'm going to try my best to make it ring true for the rest of the family...but it could prove to be a bit of an uphill battle.

The Tiny Creature is big into tiny things. Pretty much anything that is in miniature form will appeal to her. She has a collection of tiny erasers of all different kinds of foods and animals. She also still plays with her American Girl dolls. At nine years old she might not necessarily be considered "too old" to do so, but she did seem to be losing interest in all things American Girl a year or two ago (American Girl Burnout?). But then she rebounded and found a renewed interest in the stuff. I think the reason for that is the simple fact that American Girl dolls have so many accessories. And said accessories are all tiny versions of real, normal, everyday kinds of things. That's right in her sweet spot.

Some of The Creature's tiny eraser collection

The Creature is also very much into crafts and crafting. She goes to a weekly after-school art program where she makes all kinds of works of art. One of her favorite ways to express her creative side is through duct tape. Her grandmother has a large variety of craft supplies (including many different colors of duct tape) at her house. Whenever we're visit The In-Laws the Creature will almost always enlist Grammie into some sort of craft-making exercise. They have engineered a number of interesting duct tape creations. The most impressive of all was the duct tape dress they made a couple years back. Yes, they made a full-sized dress that the Tiny Creature could actually wear...out of duct tape!

Yep, that dress is made out of...duct tape!

Now that you know of these two interests (tiny things and crafting) that the Creature holds dear it might not come as a huge surprise that she enjoys combining the two interests by making tiny things when she's crafting. She really loved making boxes of miniature doughnuts out of Cheerios and putting them into matchboxes decorated as doughnut boxes. And you can make all sorts of tiny food models with that Sculpey clay stuff! But what does all of this have to do with what may or may not be a new family holiday tradition?

Tiny foods made from Sculpey and glued to a sea shell

Well, as I mentioned earlier, we were visiting The In-Laws back in August. The Tiny Creature spotted a miniature wicker basket that was part of a centerpiece display on the dinner table. It was just a little (1 1/2 or 2 inches across?) empty basket, but she really focused in on it and just HAD to do something with it. She grabbed some trusty duct tape and asked me what colors could be found in a watermelon. Next thing I knew she was putting different colors of tape together and cutting up a storm on a counter top in the kitchen. I looked down and saw what can be seen in the photo below. With no hesitation my mind tried to figure out what it was, and it came to the conclusion that The Creature was fashioning an elf out of duct tape and she had gotten only as far as the (red) pants and (green) shoes. It didn't occur to me that it seemed an odd thing to be making in August, and I also didn't seem to realize that she was actually done with whatever project she was working on. I just told her she did a good job and that I liked her "elf pants" (or something to that effect).

Then she showed me her actual finished project. It was a tiny slice of watermelon (with red fruit and a green rind) that was sitting in the tiny basket that had spurred on this sudden creative outburst in the first place. Suddenly and instantly I realized how ridiculous my "elf pants" conclusion was and I found it to be absolutely hilarious! I couldn't stop laughing, and the Monsters were also quite amused when I was able to get enough  air in to be able to explain it to them (or at least laughed along with me to humor me). What I saw as elf pants was of course the remnants of the tape the Creature had used to cut her watermelon out of. But to me it was more than a remnant waiting to be tossed into the trash. To me it was a pair of hilarious elf pants and I now simply couldn't let them get thrown out. I quietly slipped them into my pocket with plans to bring them out once again in a few months.

This brings us to December and our new Christmas tree. We all went to pick it out at a local farm and brought it home on top of our car. Once it was set up I put the lights on it and we all decorated it with our collection of ornaments we've put together over the years. Nearly all of the ornaments have special meaning to us--from some of the earliest examples of ornaments The Wife and I got when we were first dating to multiple "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments for both of the Little Monsters.

Once it seemed like we were pretty much done trimming the tree I announced that there was one special ornament that still had to go up. Everyone wondered what I was talking about as I pulled something out of a box that it had been hidden in for over three months. Yes, it was the infamous Elf Pants! It was greeted with mixed reactions, from amused to confused, but I proceeded to find a choice place on the tree to prop up the "ornament" on the tree (as it didn't have a hook or any other way to properly hang it). And it has just occurred to me now that this "ornament" was actually considered to be the leftover material from an unrelated project--something that should have been thrown away and forgotten about. But now the "Elf Pants" are hanging on our Christmas tree and I have no idea what became of the miniature slice of watermelon that was the actual intended purpose of this combination of red and green duct tape!

We haven't really acquired many new ornaments over the past two or three years, but the Elf Pants "ornament" is now something that should become a regular part of the annual trimming of the tree in our house--at least as far as I'm concerned! Hopefully it will be accepted by the rest of the family as a new annual tradition. I guess we'll see next year...

HAPPY

HOLIDAYS!

Important Dates in History: December 17, 1987

Okay, so this isn't really about an important date in the history of the world. But it IS about an important date in MY history. If you were around 31 years ago, do you remember what you were doing on December 17, 1987? It seems like a pretty random date to pluck out of the air, and it doesn't seem like there was very much happening in the world that day which was particularly newsworthy. Obviously SOMETHING important happens EVERY day SOMEWHERE in the world, but overall December 17, 1987 seems to have been relatively quiet. Nevertheless it was indeed an important day for me, and one which I still remember, even 31 years later. If you'd care to learn just why it's so memorable for me please read on...

I graduated from high school in June of 1987, so that year itself was pretty important and kind of monumental for me (a bridging from childhood to adulthood). Upon graduation I didn't really have any idea what I wanted to do with my life and I didn't really have a good plan for the future. Most of my classmates were going on to college, but I had fallen under the spell of the Army recruiters who prowl around high schools looking for kids with no plan and no real direction. I enlisted for a two-year hitch through the DEP (Delayed Entry Program), spent "one last summer" with my friends and headed off to Basic Training in September. I had signed up to be an Infantryman (long story behind that decision), so Basic Training would take place at Fort Benning in Georgia. Having never flown before, taking a big plane ride from Boston to Atlanta was a pretty new (and kind of scary) experience for me. Needless to say, the three months of Basic Training were also a pretty new and scary experience too. I had left friends, family (and my girlfriend) behind and gone further away from home than I had ever been before. Three months isn't all that long a period of time of course, but you have to remember that this was all happening to a seventeen-year-old (my parents had to sign something to allow me to join up a few weeks before my 18th birthday) who didn't really have a lot of life experience, and was moving a thousand miles from home to get yelled at 24 hours a day while learning how to kill people and clean bathrooms.

After three long months of training, which included eight weeks of Basic and four more weeks of AIT (Advanced Individual Training), my company of recruits graduated on December 10th. Because of the timing none of us had yet accrued enough leave time to be able to go home and spend Christmas and New Year with our families before reporting to our new posts (I would be heading to Fort Knox in Kentucky). In what seemed an unusual move (but which was probably pretty common for graduates in that awkward window of time right around the holidays) they actually let us stay in Ft. Benning for one more week so we could go home for the holidays. It was a very strange week. We were no longer trainees, but didn't really feel like real soldiers either. We were still living in the same barracks we had been in during our weeks of training, but we weren't yelled at as much or required to do as much PT (physical training). They sent groups of us off to various places around the base to do work details during the days, but otherwise there wasn't much to do. I was able to read pretty much all of Steven King's "IT" during down time.

 I also had a brand new Sony Walkman that I had bought during an ill-advised 24-hour pass that the Drill Sergeants had given to everyone who didn't have family show up for a mid-cycle "Family Day" in October. A few of us headed out by taxi to the nearest city (Columbus), blew a chunk of our first paychecks at a mall, bought some beer and got a hotel room for the night. When we got back the Drill Sergeants confiscated all our new gear, including my Walkman and the few tapes I had bought to play in it. During that last week I listened to those cassettes over and over (I believe I had albums by Yes and Van Halen, as well as The Pretenders' "Learning to Crawl" album).

My parents came down by train to see the graduation ceremonies on December 10th, and they brought my girlfriend with them. It was so great to see them all. Other than that one special day I was able to spend with them I had been away from home in a strange place for three months. I spent most of that last week at Fort Benning thinking of home, friends, family and Christmas--which was only a little over a week away. The Pretenders' "Learning to Crawl" album was a relatively recent release (January 1984). It had a couple huge hits with "Back on the Chain Gang" and "Middle of the Road". Those songs were part of the soundtrack of my high school years. I bought the album mainly because of them, but while listening to it in December of 1987 I discovered the song "2000 Miles". At the time it hadn't yet become the "Christmas Classic" that it is today. Listening to it then almost made me feel like it had been written for me. True, I was closer to 1,000 miles away from home rather than 2,000 miles, but I was still about to travel a long distance to come home, the snow was indeed falling down (we even got some in Georgia that week!) and it was most certainly Christmastime!

Well, December 17th finally came around and it was time to leave Fort Benning. Those of us who had stuck around for the extra week got on buses to head to the Atlanta airport and then scatter to various parts of the country. I had made the expensive decision to fly into the airport in Worcester, Massachusetts (closer to home) rather than Logan airport in Boston. Doing that meant I had to transfer to a little puddle-jumper at JFK in New York. That was quite the adventure. I was such a novice at flying that I didn't realize my checked baggage went directly to the second plane (this was the first time I had ever had a connecting flight). I waited so long at the luggage carousel--thinking my duffel bag was lost--that I nearly missed my second flight. By the time I realized my mistake I had to run through the airport in my dress greens, wait for a shuttle bus and then walk out onto the tarmac to climb aboard the tiny plane that would take me home--in a much less of a smooth fashion than the big jets I had flown on up to that point.

Those are the tangible events that happened on December 17, 1987. I think that in itself makes for a pretty memorable day. But there was something else that happened which only adds to the importance of the day for me. I've mentioned that I was heading home for the holidays. As it turned out, being away from home for three months in such an alien and hostile environment really made me appreciate simply being home with family and friends (and my girlfriend of course). When I left home I was just a seventeen year old kid. It was only a little over three months later, but it seems like I had changed a lot. Up until that point Christmas had always been a special time for me, but it was really mostly all about the commercial side of it more than anything else. The only things that really seemed to matter to me were the gifts and material things that came with the holiday. As corny as it might sound, I really didn't get the "true meaning" of Christmas. But now, as an eighteen year old and only three months removed from home, I had really acquired a greater appreciation of that meaning. I had learned that all of the important people in my life were what really mattered. And the coincidental discovery of the song "2000 Miles" at just the right time really helped me to see that. Thirty-one years later it still remains one of my favorite Christmas songs of all-time.

Two thousand miles

Is very far through the snow

I'll think of you

Wherever you go