As a child, I can only imagine that my memories are a bit skewed by circumstances, lack of available perspective, and the utter lack of understanding the triggers my parents brought to each life event that i personally experienced. It was 1972, i was 11 years old. My parents, particularly my mother, would complain that we had little, and at times just a few years earlier only $.20 in the checking account, yet as i sat at the kitchen counter of our 2nd home in Tucson awaiting dinner I did not know what was about to transpire. My sister, Joanne, was also joining us that evening. I believe the main dish was pork chops, but on the counter sat a can of vegetables. Asparagus!
Now it may be hard to believe, but at 11 years old I have no memory of ever eating asparagus before, but I do have a memory of the taste of it, so it must have happened, or perhaps the smell was enough to dissuade me.
Dad was at the sink, back to me, and was washing something or perhaps preparing the breading for the pork. Mom was opening a can of asparagus when i exclaimed (blurted out, casually announced, vehemently opposed - I leave all possibilities open) that I did not like asparagus and that I was not going to eat it. It was then I experienced something that I have never before seen: A well of volcanic lava in the form of verbal frustration exploded from my mom (now i will admit, it may have been a little less explosive but the following events make me say no)
The parental go to, from mom, started with the obligatory "When I was a child, we ate what was put before us."
then the childlike response of "I am not eating it!"
"Then you will go to your room and get nothing!"
That is all that i remember of the conversation, but I remember resigning to my room. There was then some conversation in the kitchen that i was not privy to and a bag was packed and mom was gone. She had left the house and gone to the Spears' house. Everett and Iris, a much older couple than my parents and friends that were customers of one of the restaurants that my parents owned. it was the last time I would see my mom for about 3 months. and it was now summer time. School was out and I was hanging out with dad at our other restaurant, the MCW (Museum Chuck Wagon) "The Restaurant."
This is only the second time I had seen cracks in the familial foundation, the other was a night that my father stormed out of the house (back when we only had one), but was only gone for about an hour before calling and begging to come home. He was not as determined as my mother, or perhaps not as willing to fin for himself. Mom, on the other hand, was Mrs. Determined. after spending the weekend at the Spears, we learned that she had moved back into the house out in the desert. for the next three months I am not sure what conversations my parents had, but there was obviously some renconciling going on, because by the time school resumed, all had returned to normal.
As an adult, I can look back at that time and realize that my place in what happened was a minor nuisance compared to things I was unaware were happening, but it did remind me that children often see things for what their involvement was and that carries on into adulthood and how they then react to circumstances. And with that deeper understanding, I also realized that my mother and father were carrying their own triggers. The only way to avoid those types of altercations is through learning, Unfortunately the learning usually comes after the event. and after the can of Asparagus is opened.
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