Laurie Graham - The Future Homemakers of America

‘A real romantic proposal, huh?’ Lois poured herself another shot. ‘Well, my turn now. I was a Roller Derby queen, with the Corona Park Demonettes, and I was just gri-i-i-nding my skates one time when this Bluesuiter come up to me, says, “You don’t mind my saying, miss, you got the prettiest hair I ever seen.” That was Herbert P. Moon, come up to the big city from McGuire on a weekend pass. I don’t know where he learned his manners, but he was a gentleman. He kept writing me, after he went back, and I never was much of a penpal. Next thing I knew, he got orders to Hawaii, wanted to know would I make him a happy man? That was a tough call. Never thought I’d end up marrying a woodchuck, though … ’ She squealed. ‘Speaking of woodchucks, I haven’t showed you what I got for my birthday. I’ve been waiting till Sandie’s little ears had stopped flapping for the night.’

She crawled across the floor, behind Betty’s couch, looking for her bag, sent the popcorn flying. ‘Hold on there, girls,’ she said. She had her hand inside the bag. ‘Now … ’ she said. ‘I want you to bear in mind, this is a hand-crafted item. It was lovingly fashioned by my dear husband, using his own fair hands, and I think I can say, without fear of contradiction, you’ll never have seen the like of it before. Girls, are you bored with those dreary gifts of Parisian scent? Do you dread unwrapping yet another pair of silky drawers trimmed with Chantilly lace and having to fake delight? Then why not drop a hint to the man in your life? You too could be the proud owner of a Herb Moon original … ’ she brung it out with a flourish, ‘carved … dachshund-type animal!’

I daresay that’s the way it goes if you’re a wood-carver. You hit a knot in the wood, you just got to go where it takes you and make the best of things. I guess there’s a lesson there for all of us. I could still see a hint of giraffe about that dachshund’s head, though.

We laughed till we thought we’d die. Woke Sherry up with all that screaming, holding our aching guts and begging for mercy.

‘Mommy,’ she said, standing there with her little eyes all scrunched up. ‘Mommy? Did Daddy shout at you again?’

Vern was busy mixing up a mess of his Real Mean Barbecue Sauce.

Vern Dewey’s Real Mean Barbecue Sauce

Mix 1 cup oil, 2 yellow onions (minced), 2 bell peppers (minced) and 2 red chillis (minced) with 2 cans of tomato pulp , 3 big spoons of sugar , 3 spoons of vinegar, a good pinch of salt and a dash of liquid hickory-smoke. The longer you leave the ribs in this, the better they’ll be.

!WARNING!

You better scrub your fingers real good afterwards. You get chilli juice on your privates you’ll be sorry.

He said, ‘I suppose you gotta drive out there, running a limousine service for the breeds?’ He was mad at me for inviting Kath and John Pharaoh for the Fourth of July. ‘Don’t you know your history, Peg?’ he said. ‘It’s a day of mourning for them. Day they lost the greatest nation on earth.’

I’d just invited them for ribs and hamburger, was all.

I said, ‘How about a little Christian kindness and hospitality? You seen the meat rations they been getting out there?’

I had. I’d seen things on sale, I swear, bodily parts never intended to see the light of day, never mind the inside of a skillet. Brains. And tripe.

‘That’s not so bad,’ Kath used to say, ‘if you can get an onion or two to put with it, cook it nice and slow – that’s quite tasty.’ How the years can change a person.

We were using the Gillises’ front yard, so Ed was in charge of ops. Audrey brought potato salad, Betty made brownies and Johnny Applesauce cake, Gayle and Lo were in charge of some evil brew they swore was Bloody Mary, and I made fried chicken. Vern and Okey were meant to be assisting Ed; Lance too, when he turned up. Recipe for war if ever I heard one, four jocks gathered around one barbecue pit.

Wasn’t long, though, till Okey and Vern lost interest in the secret of the perfect hamburger. Vern fetched a ball and they went across the road to Deek Kurlich’s quarters, shoot a few hoops with him and his boy. Crystal followed, of course, getting under their feet, determined to be one of the gang.

Herb was away on assignment. Just as well. First thing I seen when I pulled up outside Kath’s house was John Pharaoh wearing one of Herb’s old shirts. Lime green Ban-Lon, with a blue stripe. I’d have recognised it anywhere. He was carrying a raggedy old pillowcase, with something inside it. Gave me that sly smile and I blushed scarlet thinking of what he was at, the last time I seen him.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ he said. ‘For your party.’

I really didn’t want any more surprises from him. And if I had known what it was, I’d never have allowed him in my car with it.

When Kath walked out the door, I hardly knew her. She’d had her hair curled up all night, touch of tangerine lipstick given her by Audrey, and a polka-dot ballerina skirt, Lois’s one and only try at dressmaking, far as I knew. I’d wondered what had become of it. God knows she made us all suffer while she was working on it. Said the dots made her eyes hurt. Gave us earache, more to the point. Still, it had finally gone to a good home. Kath looked so pretty in it.

By the time we got back to the base, Ed was cooking up a storm. It smelled so good. Deana run across and told Vern our company had arrived and food was near enough ready.

I said, ‘Vern, this here’s John. Why don’t you get him a cold beer?’

‘Right,’ he said. Then, real quiet, to me, ‘Why? He lost the use a his legs?’

Okey heard it. He said, ‘I’ll get it, Vern. You ready for another?’

So Okey passed John a beer and then he hung around the pit watching the Maple Short Ribs turn mahogany-brown. He didn’t seem bothered Vern had turned his back on him. He just stood there, sucking on his beer and holding his pillowcase.

Kath said, ‘You go steady with that ale, John Pharaoh.’

I seen Ed sneering.

‘Easy to see who’s wearing the pants there,’ he said. Priceless remark from a man that was wearing PT shorts and a plastic apron, but Vern sniggered anyway.

I was so mad at him. He knew better than behaving like that, even if Ed didn’t, but that’s jocks for you. Put more than two of them together and you have a bunch of show-off kids.

John had been studying the barbecue. He said, ‘You ever cook a barley eel on a griddle like that?’

‘No, my friend,’ Ed said, ‘I don’t believe I did.’

It was Okey looked inside the pillowcase. ‘Christamighty, Vern,’ he said, ‘you should see the size a this sucker.’

Then John brought it outta the bag. It must have been four feet long, still had its head on, but no skin. Betty screamed. I think I did too. I heard Vern whistle. Get him on to fishing and all that talk about breeds and knuckle-grazers was soon forgot.

‘Jeez!’ he said. ‘You catch that hereabouts?’

John said, ‘Yes. That’s a green barley. They just started running.’ He looked so proud. ‘He’s a big un, this one,’ he said. ‘When I seen him in the grig this morning, I thought to save him, bring him along. I know how you Colonials like your grub. Kath’ll tell you how to cook him.’

Kath Pharaoh’s Way with Eels

The young ones are the best, before they’ve turned yellow. Put them in a pillowcase with a handful of salt and swish that around in a tub of water till the sliminess is gone. Fry them in bacon fat. They’re soon done. If you can’t get elvers, then get an old boy, eight or nine years old. After you’ve skinned him, cut him into two-inch pieces and bake him on a grid. That needs a good hot flame. Nice with piccalilli.