Say­ing grace

My step­son is the only per­son I know who prays in a pri­mal scream. Not only does God get the mes­sage, but so does ev­ery­body else within six blocks of our kitchen.

The Covington News - - Opinion -

The five- year- old boy who lives in my house is learn­ing to say the bless­ing.

“LET ME SAY THE BLESS­ING” he bel­lows as we sit down to the ta­ble. “GOD IS GOOD! “GOD IS NEAT!

“LET US THANK HIM!

“FOR ALL WE CAN EAT!

“YEA, GOD”

My step­son is the only per­son I know who prays in a pri­mal scream. Not only does God get the mes­sage, but so does ev­ery­body else within six blocks of our kitchen.

The “ Yea, God!” bless­ing is his fa­vorite be­cause it is more a cheer than a bless­ing, and the child is a hu­man me­ga­phone.

But tol­er­ance is very im­por­tant here be­cause it is a big deal to learn to say the bless­ing be­fore the fam­ily meal. And it’s not that easy, ei­ther.

First, you have to think of some­thing to say. I re­mem­ber when my par­ents first asked me to say the bless­ing:

MY FA­THER: “ Say bless­ing, son.”

MY MOTHER: “And don’t mum­ble.”

ME: “ Thanky­ouGod­forthe­mashedpo — ”

MY MOTHER: mum­bling.”

ME: “ — tatoe­sandthe­green­beansandthe­p­ork­chop­sandthe —”

MY FA­THER: “Amen. That was very good, son, but you don’t have to thank God for EV­ERY­THING on the ta­ble.”

I wasn’t go­ing to men­tion the rutaba­gas.

Af­ter mas­ter­ing a nice lit­tle bless­ing your mother thinks is “ cute,” and doesn’t hold your old man away form the grub

the

“ You’re too long, you move into the “ clever” bless­ings stage. Ev­ery­body knew this one: “ Son, would you please say grace” your mother would ask, bow­ing her head.

“ Grace,” you would re­ply, howl­ing at your ge­nius.

“ Whaack!” would be the sound of the back of your fa­ther’s hand across your face.

Then there was the old fa­vorite: Good bread, Good meat. Good Lord, Let’s eat! That was good for the back­hand across the face AND get­ting sent to your room without any din­ner.

If you got re­ally brave, you could use this one: Bless the meat, Damn the skins, Back your ears, And cram it in! That could get you re­form school.

When it came to smart-aleck bless­ings, my boy­hood friend and idol, Wey­man C. Wan­na­maker Jr., a great Amer­i­can, had no peer.

His all- time clas­sic was the fol­low­ing:

Thank you, Lord, for this meal, We know you are the giver. But thank you, Lord, most of all, That we ain’t havin’ liver. Wey­man’s fa­ther tried to send him to re­form school, but the war­den was afraid he would be a bad in­flu­ence on the other “ stu­dents.”

Soon, my step­son will be in the stage of say­ing “ clever” bless­ings, but I am not go­ing to whack him across the face.

I am go­ing to make him eat liver, smoth­ered in rutaba­gas.

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