Greg Laffitte
May 07, 2008 02:12 pm
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I remember as a kid those special occasions when Mom and Dad would announce “company was coming.” We kids would pitch in and do an extra good job cleaning up the house.
I actually got pretty good at “hiding” stuff so that things would appear orderly and squared away. Those with teenagers know exactly what I’m talking about. The yard would get mowed with a little more attention to detail in order to make a good impression on our soon to arrive visitors.
Sometimes the arriving guest might be one of my dad’s work friends or even an entire family, but either way there was always a sense of excitement in the air anticipating sitting at the supper table with folks we had never met. On more than one occasion a special meal would be prepared which was typically the “hallmark” meal at the Laffitte household.
Thoughts of those summer evening BBQ’s in the backyard with burgers cooked on a charcoal pit speak of a magical time in my life. If I was lucky, I was even allowed to take a turn manning the grill, which I now consider to be a right of passage.
I recall quite vividly adults sitting around in the back yard on old folding webbed chairs, laughing and relaxing, while we kids whooped and hollered without a care in the world. My dad was a master on the grill. His talents were unparalleled with a T-bone steak or a chicken leg-quarter, but you would have marveled at his prowess over a Coleman fired camp stove, his frying pan loaded with fish and hush-puppies.
If we were having a fish fry it meant that extra special folks were expected. I admit unashamedly that the first time my wife-to-be met my family was at a Labor Day backyard fish fry at my parent’s home in Tallahassee.
Here’s a hint for those pondering nuptial proposals. Subject your future bride or groom to be to a family fish fry, and if they agree to a second date, then I can promise you at least 27 years and counting of wedded bliss. If on the other hand they never speak to you again, than consider yourself fortunate to have avoided future marital discord.
We have had numerous house guests over the years and each visit had its own memories. My sister-in-law visited us one Thanksgiving and, together with my wife, attempted to bake a pumpkin pie the old-fashioned way.
They broke out my Aunt Pearl’s Boston Cookbook and proceeded to create the perfect pumpkin delight. After much laughing and carrying on, quite to their dismay, it became obvious something had gone awry. They had scooped out all of the pumpkin innards, carefully placing the ingredients in a bowl and threw the remaining pumpkin away.
After careful thought and subsequent realization, it was overly obvious they were never going to succeed at getting all of the seeds out of the stringy mess heaped in the bowl. The standby frozen pie in the freezer filled in as an outstanding substitute.
Another Thanksgiving event that comes to mind was the time my family visited my brother-in-law’s family in Utah. My sister-in-law is an outstanding cook. I do believe she could make a worn out boot pass for roast beef, bless her heart. Hours spent in the kitchen had turned her home into a bona-fide Martha Stewart cooking symposium. The house was filled with mouth-watering aromas.
The dinner table was set and prepared like nothing I had ever seen before. Baked bread, flavorful casseroles, mashed potatoes with creamy gravy and a huge beautifully prepared turkey, which would have made Norman Rockwell proud, were all laid out on the dining room table.
The family was seated, the prayer was prayed and the electric carving knife was plugged in and ready to go. The knife cut easily into the moist turkey. The stuffing was moist and there was plenty of it, however the meat was still pink and dang near raw! Bless her heart. Yes visiting with company, friends and family brings special meaning to all of us.
Here in Afghanistan we have become a big family. We get to have company over for supper, in our own way, when we have coalition forces visit from other countries. I have had the distinct privilege of dining with members of the Australian armed forces. They come to our chow hall where we dine on long picnic tables. We go to their chow hall where we wrap up the evening telling jokes and drinking coffee.
We have formed special bonds with our Australian partners. Our medical support personnel have created a partnership in the operating room and in the emergency trauma bay.
We occasionally adopt their slang and sincerely compliment their true sense of humor and cheery disposition. We have even traded a few uniform patches. A “good-day mate” is the standard greeting, accompanying a hearty handshake and a boisterous laugh whenever we speak with them. They truly are happy, fun-loving folks.
Four days ago we said goodbye to one of our Australian friends. He was killed in a firefight with the Taliban. Our American team formed a line along the road leading to the waiting aircraft.
A large solemn procession of Australian military service members filed slowly by. The day was hot and the sky was crystal clear without a cloud on the horizon. I heard the bag pipes playing long before I saw the priest in the white robe leading the procession.
They filed past our formation where we were holding our salute, slowly making their way to the ramp. A military vehicle containing the coffin draped with the Australian flag was escorted by members of the fallen soldier’s elite unit. Not a word was spoken, only the sound of the wind and bagpipes slowly fading away as the procession passed by. “Company coming over” will forever hold a special meaning in my life. “Good day mate.”
Write to me at: greg.laffitte@gmail.com
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