When I run out of things to read, I go to my book shelves and start over.
When I purged those a few years ago, I did get rid of most of the Erma Bombeck. After all, they were becoming outdated; or so I thought. One day in August, when it was too hot to do anything else, I got out a book titled The Best of Bombeck. I'm currently in the middle one; Just Wait Till You Have Children of Your Own! The illustrations are by Bil Keane, of the Family Circus.And I have been giggling this afternoon!
For instance, the one on family vacations, The family that plays together gets on each other's nerves.
Erma says, for years, my husband and I have advocated separate vacations. But the kids keep finding us. The trip by car is rather predictable.
First, there is Captain Daddy's speech. The floor is for the feet. We will not play car roulette at any time. I will make window assignments each morning. The car is not a trough. Only one time through “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer” in a twenty-four hour period. You are going to have a wonderful time if I have to break every bone in your bodies. Good show!
Then, there is the Disaster Lady, the teen-age daughter who did not want to make the trip in the first place. If she isn't predicting hurricanes as far inland as Indiana, she's telling an amusing story of a shark that showed up in some freak way at the lake where they plan to stay.
Then, there is Happy Mouth, the best testimonial to Planned Parenthood she can think of. He asks if they want to hear the poem he read on the last rest-room wall. They all say “no” in unison. He recites it anyway: “Violets are blue, roses are red, If you can read this, you're standing on your head.”
This leaves us with the Teen-age Grumbler for whom nothing is as much fun as he anticipated. He came on the trip with one change of underwear and a single word in his vocabulary, “Gross”. The tours are gross, the statues are gross, the motels are gross, the food is, too; even the girls are gross! You get the feeling if he had been present while the Red Sea was being parted, he'd have whipped a pocket comb out of his shirt, yawned and said, “That's gross!”
Of course, Erma saves the Family Mother of the trip until last. She has to dispense discipline, maintain order, keep track of the gas and oil mileage, read road maps and get Captain Daddy to make pit stops with some regularity.
She says, “Don't you think we should stop and get a bite to eat?” “Why” answers the captain. “We just got rolling.” “We got rolling at five this morning and it is now two-thirty and my vision is beginning to blur.” Daddy says he wanted to get to Goose Fork by four and if they stop, they will all want to go to the bathroom, stretch legs and get something to eat and that will blow another twenty minutes!
And so it goes! I know, she exaggerates, but we have all been there; that is why we laughed at her columns, and her books, and her appearances on Good Morning, America. I have to write one of these a week, if I'm lucky, and she did three a week, plus, the books, plus, the TV appearances.
And I still miss her, which is why I reread her stuff every so often, if only to remind me of how it was. That way, I don't get quite so nostalgic about those days, special as they were. You all remember, too, don't you?
