Friday, September 16, 2011

1989* - spaghetti head

it wasn't often that my parents could get away, child free. so when an opportunity to go to new zealand {where my dad lived for two years after high school to serve a mission for our church} arose, they jumped at the chance. 

rather than shipping all four of us off to friends, family or neighbors, my grandma and grandpa kinnersley packed their bags and stayed the week at our house. 

i don't remember many details about my grandpa. he passed away when i was ten, so i knew him, just not well. he wasn't the easiest person to get to know. he'd had a rough life and struggled with alcoholism. he was also an avid university of utah fan and loooooooooooved baseball. so much so that we knew to never walk in front of the tv when he was watching a game. i don't want this to sound like grandpa paul was a bad person. he wasn't. he was just a little rough around the edges. 

my grandma was a bit more nurturing. she could be stern at times and most definitely had an opinion on things, but we knew she loved us and she was much easier to talk to. she was also a great pen pal - we exchanged handwritten and typed {on a typewriter, of course} letters for years. back to the story...

one night, my grandma had prepared spaghetti for dinner. she called throughout the house asking all of us to come to the table to eat. i heard her call, but was in the bathroom. so i yelled back that i would be there in just a second. i finished up in the bathroom, washed my hands and came straight to the dining room table. when i got there, i was met with a livid grandpa paul. 

"maren," he said, "when your grandmother calls you to the table, you are to obey. you come immediately."
i was caught a bit off guard. my grandma didn't seem upset at all. i had come as quickly as i could.

in the heat of the moment, my grandpa picked up my plate of spaghetti and flipped it over, squishing it onto the top of my head. 

yes, you read that correctly. 

the noodles were warm and the sauce began to drip down my face. i was completely taken aback. i had no idea what to do. i honestly don't remember what i did, but i know there were tears. 

and you should have seen the look on my grandma's face. "PAUL!," she screamed. and then she began to tell him {very loudly} that that was no way to treat a child...plus a few other choice things. 

my grandma took me by the shoulders to get cleaned up while my siblings stood in drop-jawed silence. i wish i had video of the event. i have no idea what happened in the room after i left or what kinds of conversations were had among old and young that night. my grandpa's temper got the better of him and i'm sure he wasn't proud of his actions. 

it's since turned into a joke in my family. my siblings all thinks it's hilarious that i still love spaghetti {it's definitely a favorite, especially reheated as i'm sure my dinner was that night} and decided it must be because it was ingrained into my head at a young age. clever nicknames were also born from this now-funny fiasco. i can't make spaghetti without hearing about maren-ara sauce or how we should proabably maren-ate it. get it? maren ate it? 

those siblings. they're hilarious, i tell ya. sadly {or not so?} there are no pictures of this memorable event. so here are some other 1989 happenings...
 {baptism dress}
 {baptism day with dad, november 4, 1989}
 {halloween 1989}

*i think this actually happened in the fall of 1988...close enough.

3 comments:

Rob and Marseille said...

wow. what a story!

KaraLyn said...

I'm pretty sure that spaghetti story is the funniest story I have ever heard! Haha! All these pictures of you and your family are making me nostalgic. Love the posts!

ed and kelli said...

he he. i love it. grandpa paul. good times.