I watched intently as Mom mashed the potatoes. It was one of the last things done before the call went out for all and sundry parts of the family to gather for Thanksgiving dinner. This year was special. Uncle Barry, Mom’s little brother, was back from the Service, and quite an extended family was on hand to celebrate.
I was told to call my brothers, sister, and cousin from upstairs, and to get the table set. While I was sent off to do that Mom put down the potato masher and went to the back door. Dad, Grandpa, and Uncle Barry were out talking and smoking ‘those disgusting cigars.’ I, of course, was not allowed anywhere near such activity.
Grandma and Aunt Sue immediately went about setting the dining room table, while I stood at the base of the steps and called up, “Supper time!”
When I came back into the kitchen Mom was still out on the porch talking and laughing about things I would never be privy to. Gram and Aunt Sue were still in the dining room, arranging table settings.
On the counter stood the huge bowl of freshly mashed potatoes, the masher still sitting askew in the middle of them. I don’t know what possessed me. I was struck by the thought that dinner would be more festive with some added color. So, I took the bottle of green food coloring and poured a carefully measured one quarter teaspoon. I was just about to add it when I heard the back door open.
I dumped it in, and gave the masher two or three quick churns. My mother’s scream was somewhat muted by the loud trundling of many feet on the steps. “Michael Alexander! Oh good Lord!” Everyone rushed into the kitchen.
The damage was done. There was naught to do, my Dad reckoned, but to mix it up good, and serve them anyway. The food was set out, we all claimed our seats and settled in. Uncle Barry was given the privilege of saying grace. Then the food started getting passed around. For some reason the green mashed potatoes sat in the middle of the table completely untouched by anyone.
“Have some potatoes, Michael.” Dad nodded at the big green mound.
I took a small, a very small, spoonful.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” Mom shook her head. “Pass me the potatoes. They’re getting cold.”
I passed her the potatoes. She took a big spoonful and passed them on to Uncle Barry. He took the bowl with some reservation, but took a full helping. Then Mom spooned a valley into her mound, and poured in some turkey gravy. The brown on green looked… nauseating. Barry jumped up, and ran for the kitchen, trying to hold down his gorge. Mom looked at the green potatoes with the sickly brown lake in the middle, got up, and carried her plate, and the bowl of potatoes back into the kitchen.
I had to do all of the Thanksgiving dishes that night, both the washing and the drying. The very last thing I was allowed to empty and wash was the mashed potato bowl. As I was finishing up, and feeling quite put upon, Uncle Barry came in.
“You know kid, I pulled a lot of stunts in the Army. Did an awful lot of K.P.” He slapped me on the back like he was proud. “Sure wish I’d of thought of green potatoes.”
—
©2009 by J. M. Strother, all rights reserved.
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That was beautiful. For the rest of his life, the memory of the reactions at the table might make him cringe, but that slap on the back will be golden right to the end. Great work.
Ah… forgiven. And isn’t that what Thanksgiving is, in part, about? Remebering, forgiving, celebrating. Great story! Peace, Linda
What a wonderful stunt! Is this maybe something you did?
Cracked me up that we both had cigars this week.
Ah, that was sweet! And adding the coloring to the potatoes was genius! Of course, orange coloring would have been more of a Fall color…
Great work.
That’s awesome! Laugh out loud funny! What a wonderful story.
Me? Never. But my brother did add blue food coloring to the mashed potatoes once. The effect was the same. Thankfully, it was not at Thanksgiving.
~jon
Replying to ganymeder….orange would have gone better with the gravy!
Susan
Lovely story, that is a memory!
And that’s why my mother never let me near the potatoes when I was little!
Nice story, Jon!
Now that I think of it, I have seen green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. Did the young man in story grow up and…nah, just a coincidence, I’m sure.
If Uncle Barry wasn’t already considered the coolest uncle, he certainly is now!
Very much enjoyed this
What happened to your brother after the blue colouring…?
I don’t think he got into too much trouble. Everyone was mad at him, but he pretty much got off scot-free.
His blue mashed potatoes paled in comparison to the green sloppy joes we made once, at my daughter’s behest. It is deeply ingrained in human nature to NEVER EAT GREEN MEAT!
~jon
Jon: Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that you’ve had some firsthand experience with food coloring and mashed potatoes? Your family doesn’t secretly refer to you as “Green Tater Boy,” do they? Maybe behind your back?
I always admire the structure of your stories. This one is almost a mirror image of some of your others — you seem to more often set up a situation that feels more or less normal and then proceed to squeeze it until the tension pops. In this one, you built tension that was released in the final pop.
Very good, as always.
Jeff Posey
Remind me to check the location of the food coloring before Thursday! This was a really fun pre-Thanksgiving story. Thanks for the laugh!
Nice one. Good characters and a funny situation. Now, come Thursday, when I see a big bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, I’m going to think of your story and get a chuckle.
Excellent story. Heartwarming and funny. I’m thankful that none of my kids has come up with this idea…yet.
Jon -
It’s simply perfect. That’s all I got for it!
Jim
Cool story Jon. Cool uncle as well.
Haha. Loved the end. This reminds me so much of how I felt as a kid when offered a chance to concoct my own recipes. I loved food coloring (and most of the things I mixed definitely looked nauseating–several colors and ingredients mixed together usually resulted in an uneven brown paste). I wish I’d have had the guts to empty color into the family’s mashed potatoes, though. I don’t think I’d been able to sit down for a week if I had, though.
Everyone needs an Uncle Barry. Great, great story Jon.
~chris
Should have put them next to the candied yams. What a sight that would have been!
such a very nice slice of americana..i can so see this happening..on st. pattys day! fun right jon.
Ah, St. Patty’s Day is what inspired my girls to want green sloppy joes. I warned them it was a bad idea, but they were so excited about the notion they would not be denied. So at dinner I told my youngest (and chief instigator) to eat up. She just looked at me and said, “Dad, I’m going to hurl.”
I ate a lot of sloppy joes that week.
~jon
No doubt with your eyes closed…–S
write..you know what i meant!
What a nice thing to read today. And I’m usually a total humbug. Thank you.
[...] @AnasaziStories: Green. Just sayin'. RT @jmstro: My #fridayflash, Mashed Potatoes, is now up. http://jmstrother.com/MadUtopia/?p=207 5 hrs [...]
Shoulda let the kid have one puff on the cigar.
That was a cute little story. I’m guessing the pat on the back is all he’ll remember about the day, not the washing of all the dishes.
I don’t know, there were an awful lot of dishes.
~jon
Jon, I really appreciate stories that act as a slice of life, whether they are based in actual events, or just a figment of the author’s human imagination. Sometimes the seemingly insignificant family events carry the most weight and resonate with the reader. After all, we can all relate to having been young. Well done!
It’s the special moments that count. At our Thanksgiving several years ago, the power went out just as we were sitting down at the table. We ate by candlelight. It was magical. Candlelight Thanksgivings are now a tradition in our household. Thanks for the memory.
I gasped when I read what your protag was about to do! We have coloured scrambled eggs most Saturdays. Green works best too! Great yarn.
So you actually have green eggs and ham?
Dr. Seuss, he would be proud.
He’d shout approval, very loud.
~jon
This is great. Nice little vignette of childhood, a wonderful sepia-toned scene. I could almost smell the good food and hear the clinking and clatter of the dinnerware. Excellent job.
This made me laugh, Jon. A perfect ending to it. The descriptions of the the reactions to the green potatoes were priceless – and Dad’s “Have some potatoes, Michael.”, loved it.
The best was the final sentence. Well done.
Jon, I am so sorry that I waited til Sunday to read your story. I could have added some green food coloring to last night’s cassarole, but you know how fussy Deb is! You did good, once again.
Barb Relyea
I’m glad you waited!
~jon
Very seasonal, and makes me hungry. I’ll have some potatoes no matter the color, as long as they taste like potatoes. Fun read.
Its moments like that which maketh the man
good stuff
I really enjoyed this story. And I agree with David — I’d have eaten mashed potatoes no matter what the colour