One fine Saturday morning, Steve came home after several hours of visiting various relatives and various cemeteries. He was in great form, the beautiful day left him with much to bitch about. Before I get too far into this story, maybe I should tell you a little about Steve, my dad.
I started calling him Steve when I was 9 or 10 years old. I can't remember how it started, and I did call my mom Anne for a short time, but it felt unnatural and forced. Anyway, Steve is a blue collar hard-working man. He has worked for the power company for over 35 years, and most people are afraid of him when they first meet him. I think that's because of his thick beard and unfriendly demeanor. But that's all just an act. A very honed, well practiced, almost too convincing, act. Does he calls us, his kids, demons and bastards? Sure, but he'll also change your headlight and buy you anything you need from Costso. But God help you if you forget to check your oil each and every time you get gas!! That's just the kind of guy he is. To some it may seem as though Steve hates joy. Birthdays and holidays are always a time for Steve to pout and pray to be called to work. I don't think this is because he hates joy, but rather is a more understated kind of person, and all the hustle and bustle of the holidays, probably gives him diarrhea. Around the age of 19, there was a shift in our family dynamic. Steve's attitudes towards things kind of became a joke. Something we all (save for Steve) could laugh about. Now his holiday antics are like dinner theater to us. It's fun to point out how Steve wildly rolls his eyes, and angrily flares his nostrils whenever the whole family gets together.
So that brings us to Saturday. My mom and Steve took 3 of my nieces to the cemetery for some quality bonding time among the decesed. When they got back Steve went to the garage. From there I heard him yell "WHERE'S MY SAUERKRAUT?!?!?!?!?" He came in talking about how he didn't understand why someone would take it without letting him know. The question on everyone's mind was why would anyone take it. It being a one gallon jar of pickled cabbage.
"Did you check the refrigerator?" I asked.
"I've never left kraut in the fridge, a day in my life!" he responded " You ate it all with out telling me!"
"No you did. didn't you make like kraut and ham and polenta not too long ago." Which apparently was his plan for today as well.
"No, you're thinking of your great-grandmother 20 years ago."
"Yeah, that must be it." This Croatian dish was a favorite of my great-grandmother, Mary Magdalene Fransiscovich Klepac(vic)
"10 pounds of ham hock going to waste cause I don't have any sauerkraut. Well, you take the ham all for yourself, and eat it raw!"
It's these little interactions I'm going to miss most of all when I move out of my parents house in a couple weeks. I will not, however, miss Steve walking around in his not-so-tighty-off-whities.
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