A Pig in the Blanket And Other Family Skeletons


To every family must fall a few oddballs. I must say, my family genetic tree batted a thousand and came up with several homeruns. And as it so happens when having oddballs in your family, you will have some very interesting and upsetting stories to share if you have the courage to admit you have people that odd in your blood line. I've always loved a challenge so this does not bother me. Besides it skips a generation anyway.

I live a good 600 miles away from my oddball family members and frankly, I like to keep it that way. Fortunately, I'm not close enough to have to worry about a visit but I do still hear all the fascinating events that unfold in my absence.

My Mother is a good, proper, God-fearing, southern woman. You'll never meet a more gracious and assessorized woman anywhere. She always has a smile on her face, is decked to the nines in the latest fashions and looks like she's stepped out of Southern Living - home-baked dessert and coffee in hand. It's always been a bone of contention with her that most of the oddballs in our midst has come from HER side of the family.

She was born the eldest in 1929 followed by oddball number one, Jo Evelyn, a few years later. Jo, as she is called, was then followed by Gerald, who sadly, is the oddest of the oddballs being a "PS" (sketzo) ending with Linda who should have been a comedienne.

My Uncle Gerald was mentally sound, as far as we know, until his early 30's. From there it was downhill. Visions of Jesus in a corn field and 30 minute blessings at Thanksgiving ensued. But before all that, he managed to snag one of our hometown debutante's. Her name was Phyllis and she was a beautiful black-haired, blue-eyed girl. Uncle Gerald was not bad on the eyes himself and was/is extremely intelligent. You know they always say there is such a fine line between genius and insanity. Uncle Gerald fits that description to a T.

Anyway, my mother's family were well-educated and well-read but they WERE country people. Phyllis' family had money and were members of the country club. My mother and her aunts were determined that OUR side of the family was going to LOOK like they could belong to the country club if nothing else.

This is where my story begins:

Mother had given Jo and Linda strict instructions on what kind of dresses they had to have for the wedding. Mother was busy with a newborn (my middle sister) and sent the two of them to the most exclusive dress shop our town had to offer at the time. Berlon's was where the "IN" crowd shopped. My Great Aunt Addie, also being a woman of fashion, funded this trip and backed my mother up on what was appropriate and what was not.

Jo was probably around 23 and let's just say she was/is a plus sized girl. Linda was a teenager and petite. They quickly found Linda's frock and giggled and basically caused an uproar in the ladies department with all of their noise. Soon it was time to begin the search for Jo's dress.

Remember Mrs. Kostanza on Seinfield? George's Mom? This is a good visual of Jo without the Brooklyn accent. She's a bit cross-eyed to so when she's looking at you its hard to tell which eye you need to look into. Anyway, Jo is about 5'5 in her stocking feet, and as I've mentioned plus-sized and very well endowed in the bust area.

The sales clerk trying to help, asked if they needed any "foundations". Neither one of them knew what a foundation was other than the slab of concrete you poured when building a house. They fell into fits of laughter while the clerk snubbed her nose as if someone had passed gas.

She explained that foundations were slip, bras, hose, girdles. In particular, she suggested Jo may need one for a smoother look under her clothes. Remembering mother's stern words, they quickly agreed that yes, she needed some foundations.

The clerk reappeared holding a large rubber square about the size of a paper towel. "Here, put this on before you try on your dress." They both looked at Jo's considerable rolls and back at the rubber square and thought the same thing. "How in the hell are we going to get THAT on THIS?" I must add a disclaimer here and remind you that in the 50's and 60's girdles were not made from material that was soft and pretty. They were just like an endless band of rubber.

Again, with mother's words in their ears, Jo began the process of putting on the girdle. Quickly she was out of breath realizing that putting on foundations was hard work. Linda graciously joined in. They tugged and tugged, pulled and pulled, grunted and grunted. They were making so much noise that the clerk called in, "do you girls need some help?". Not wanting to embarass themselves, they both called back, "no thanks, we've got it." Still they tugged and pulled. The rubber was so hard and stretchy at the same time. Again, the clerk called in....maybe some baby powder would help. Couldn't hurt, right?

Linda took the powder from the clerk and sprinkled a little in the front and back. This helped some so they continued to tug and pull. Finally it was in place!! They were both exhausted and sweating. They slipped the dress over Jo's head and it DID make her girth appear much smoother. As they were standing there admiring it in the mirror, Jo decided she'd try on the shoes she'd bought. Bending down she was putting the first shoe on when there was a weird, tiny whistling sound.....much like when a balloon releases air. She stands back up but realizes something is pinching her and the whistling sound is getting louder and louder. It's the girdle! It's ripping into right on her body! She quickly yells to Linda, "get outta here Linda Joy, this things bout to blow!" CAPOWEE! It ripped completely down the back just like a rubber band popping against paper.

By this time, they were both overcome with a fit of laughter and could barely stand up. The sales clerk came running to find out what was going on. "Girls, girls, are you alright?" Jo was still laughing so hard she got the farts which made them laugh harder. Linda, ever the comic yelled out, "It's okay, we just had a blow out!"

This story is hysterical when told by Linda at family gatherings. Somehow, the two of them made it through the society wedding and did not embarass my mother and aunts but it was years before any of them shopped at Berlon's.

The moral of a story? Always make sure the blanket is big enough for the pig.