Emerson and young friend come to blows at dinner table
Posted Mar 11, 2010 By Mary Cook
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Tweet ThisEMC Lifestyle - Father didn't much believe in giving up anything for Lent. He left that to Mother. Although she attended the Lutheran Church, and had been a supporter since moving to Renfrew County, we all knew she still carried her Rosary in her purse, and she wasn't above crossing herself when a need arose.
Since just about the only candy that ever came into the house anyway was the toffee or fudge Mother made, it was no big sacrifice for her to give up candy for Lent, which she did. Father just smiled when she made the announcement.
My sister Audrey said Northcote was divided into two camps. The Lutherans and the Uniteds. However, we did have several Roman Catholic families for neighbours, and I could never see any difference between them and the rest of us. Patrick, who was a Catholic, was a great friend of my brother Emerson, but that friendship just about came to a crashing end one day when the winter was coming to a close.
It was a Friday and for a reason which escapes me today, Patrick was at our house for supper. Like Mother, Patrick wouldn't touch meat on a Friday. Now, Father never considered a meal a meal without a big plate of meat. That night we had a heaping platter of pork sausages from the smoke house, and wonderful aromas filled the kitchen, and as Father said afterwards, almost turned Patrick into a Lutheran.
When I play the scene back in my mind, I can see Emerson and Patrick already seated on the bench at the table which was laden with food. Father washing up at the basin on the bench, and the rest of us were vying for a seat, since Patrick was in the spot usually held by my brother Everett.
It was then Emerson let a roar out of him that brought everything to a grinding halt. "Patrick just ate a sausage," he yelled.
"I did not, you dirty lying Protestant," Patrick shouted over Emerson which was a feat in itself since Emerson could out-yell just about anyone.
"I saw you with your hand on the platter," Emerson countered.
"I was just moving it to make room for my glass of milk," Patrick shouted.
"Then why are your fingers full of grease?" was the next comment from my brother. Well, it didn't take all day for Mother to settle things down. She left the Findlay Oval and the half filled bowl of turnips and wheeled over to the table, gave Emerson a cuff on the ear that just about sent him through the window behind, and demanded he apologize to Patrick.
Emerson made a half-hearted attempt to admit that he hadn't actually seen him take a sausage, but it sure looked like he did. Well, that caused another outburst from Patrick. Mother rose her voice above the din and said if there was one more word about a sausage, both Emerson and Patrick would be sent to the barn.
I kept watching Father to see if he was going to enter the fray, but he had already heaped his plate with the creamed potatoes and sausages, and told Audrey to fetch the turnips before everything got cold. For the next few minutes Father's mission in life would be to get his meal into him before all-out war erupted, and he could head to the barn himself and do the final check of the livestock.
Well, we got through supper. By the time we were digging into the bread pudding, Emerson and Patrick were back to being good friends and laughing and slapping each other on the back.
Patrick's father pulled the cutter up to the kitchen door just before dark, and Patrick was ordered to thank my mother in fitting fashion. "Hope he behaved himself, Mrs. Haneman," he said.
"Just a perfect young gentleman," Mother said as Emerson's young friend climbed into the cutter next to his father.
"Did he remember his table manners?" he asked. Mother assured him he did. I could hear Emerson snorting at the kitchen door.
"Want to take a couple sausages with you to eat on the way home?"
Mother had a good hold on Emerson's ear as she half dragged, and half pushed him in through the kitchen door.
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