At some point in time, all of us put off cleaning our house, apartment, room, cave, etc. I have been in both camps. As a kid, I had a subconscious notion that I must have the messiest room in the entire world. I just didn’t care. But I was forced to clean up when we had company. When we lived in Tennessee and our relatives were still in Georgia, it was imperative that my room be clean enough that it could be inhabited by family members. To me, that meant someone could conceivably walk through the room without tripping on something. And clean clothes were hanging up. On something.
One summer I attended an honor’s school (no, seriously – I did) that specialized in several subjects. Music, Math, English and Biology. In biology, we dissected several types of animals. And even though I’m not a “science” guy, I was absolutely fascinated by this. The entire process of opening up a former living thing and seeing what’s inside was something I can remember to this day. What is a little fuzzy to me is how it came to pass that I was able to take home a fetal pig to dissect later. I mean, seriously, I don’t know if I stole it, or the professor saw my enthusiasm and figured I would schlep it out on the kitchen table at home, showing everyone how smart I was. Regardless, I took that pig, wrapped it up in a trash bag, stuffed it in my father’s 30 year old duffel bag, and took it home. I was going to revolutionize the…..dissecting industry. No one would do the kind of intelligent research that I was going to do. I might even find a cure for cancer, or at least fatty bacon.
Keep in mind this was summer. As fascinating as Biology was, I was a kid and summer duties called. Sleeping late, playing tennis and scoping the school yearbook for next year’s girlfriend prospect list…..all things that I just had to do. Because of these all important jobs, I conveniently placed my “lab work” on the back burner.
Enter my dad’s brother and his family for a trip to see us. Which of course means giving up my room and sleeping….wherever there was space. The long and short of it is that, yes, he slept next to that pig for a week and never knew. In fact, I think it was still three days AFTER they left before I threw it out.
The ribbing I took from that was endless, as it should have been. However, my uncle, who has since passed away, had a special way of teasing you. It was never mean spirited, but it was constant. It starts out with “Hey do I need to bring any slop with me next time we come up?” and then morphs into “Doctor, we need to open this pig up STAT!”. And for the record, in my family, if you’re going to make fun of someone, you’ve probably already made fun of yourself – self deprecating humor is bestowed upon the Ards very early, I think we all take a class at two years of age.
Ultimately, there is no comeback for making someone sleep next to a fetal pig. But if I was as much as a smart aleck then as now, I could have tossed a few zingers his way – “Jere, is there anything special I can make you for breakfast? Are you craving bacon?” or “Why do you smell like formaldehyde?”
Parents, there’s a reason you have to make sure your kids clean their room. You just NEV-ER know what they have up there………..
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