Growing up, we were not allowed to curse, but even further than that, we were not allowed to say certain other words that you or Mom considered to be crass. Farting was one of these words. I still have a bit of a problem saying it and can't believe I actually just wrote it down. We were definitely not a family who engaged in potty humor.
Bodily functions such as farting were meant to be done in secret and not to be discussed. This was largely the case -- I am fairly certain I have never once in my life heard Mom or Megan fart or burp. Maybe they don't do these things at all? You, however, found it completely acceptable to fart out loud about once a week or so. Sitting in the kitchen, a loud toot would escape, and we would stifle awkward laughter. You would pause, then say "Zoe!" After Zoe died, you blamed it on Eliot or one of the cats. Mom would roll her eyes in disgust.
This was the exact extent to which farting was ever discussed in our household. The word was not used, ever. If it did have to be mentioned, you referred to it as passing gas. If it did have to happen, it was blamed on the dog.
When I was in fifth grade, you and Mom agreed to let me go on a trip to Massachusetts with a friend and her family, to their vacation house in the Berkshires. It would be the first time I was away from home without you and Mom. I remember it as the most lonely, terrifying, and homesick five days of my entire life. The misery started less than half a mile away from our house, sitting in their SUV in the parking lot of the harbor, waiting for the ferry to arrive.
Piled into the car were me, my friend, her parents, her little sister, and two dogs. One or both of the dogs must have farted. The smell was immediately discussed and laughed about and then the words "fart" and "toot" were thrown about as if they were in danger of going out of style. This whole family was sitting there together laughing and talking openly about farting. I was horrified, I froze up. Who were these barbarians that you and Mom had seen fit to let me go off with for a week? Where was their sense of propriety? Immediately, a sense of dread and foreboding filled me and I longed for our pristine house on Thompson Street, where there was no farting and no impropriety.
It'd be tough to have gotten this far in life without having eased up ever so slightly on my willingness to talk about or hear about bathroom issues, but I still find it shocking when other people talk about these things openly, I still hear you in the back of my head clearing your throat loudly to display your disapproval. I do, however, think farting is generally always hilarious.
Bodily functions such as farting were meant to be done in secret and not to be discussed. This was largely the case -- I am fairly certain I have never once in my life heard Mom or Megan fart or burp. Maybe they don't do these things at all? You, however, found it completely acceptable to fart out loud about once a week or so. Sitting in the kitchen, a loud toot would escape, and we would stifle awkward laughter. You would pause, then say "Zoe!" After Zoe died, you blamed it on Eliot or one of the cats. Mom would roll her eyes in disgust.
This was the exact extent to which farting was ever discussed in our household. The word was not used, ever. If it did have to be mentioned, you referred to it as passing gas. If it did have to happen, it was blamed on the dog.
When I was in fifth grade, you and Mom agreed to let me go on a trip to Massachusetts with a friend and her family, to their vacation house in the Berkshires. It would be the first time I was away from home without you and Mom. I remember it as the most lonely, terrifying, and homesick five days of my entire life. The misery started less than half a mile away from our house, sitting in their SUV in the parking lot of the harbor, waiting for the ferry to arrive.
Piled into the car were me, my friend, her parents, her little sister, and two dogs. One or both of the dogs must have farted. The smell was immediately discussed and laughed about and then the words "fart" and "toot" were thrown about as if they were in danger of going out of style. This whole family was sitting there together laughing and talking openly about farting. I was horrified, I froze up. Who were these barbarians that you and Mom had seen fit to let me go off with for a week? Where was their sense of propriety? Immediately, a sense of dread and foreboding filled me and I longed for our pristine house on Thompson Street, where there was no farting and no impropriety.
It'd be tough to have gotten this far in life without having eased up ever so slightly on my willingness to talk about or hear about bathroom issues, but I still find it shocking when other people talk about these things openly, I still hear you in the back of my head clearing your throat loudly to display your disapproval. I do, however, think farting is generally always hilarious.
Other words that are normally ok that Dad didn't think are ok:
ReplyDelete- crap
- sucks
- obviously all swear words