Ham

Ham is the thigh and rump of any animal that is slaughtered for meat, but the term is usually restricted to a cut of pork.
- Wikipedia

Defn: [short for hamfatter, from "The Ham-fat Man," minstrel song]: a showy performer; especially : an actor performing in an exaggerated theatrical style.
- Webster's

I am a ham. I love ham. I think my dad loves ham too, but mom never fixes it anymore when the family gathers. My Aunt Martha lived with us in Renton while she went to “Mr. Lee’s Beauty College.” It was located in downtown, not far from my father’s favorite hardware store – McLendon’s. McLendon’s has expanded and now has a number of stores two of which are close to me.

Aunt Martha was genuinely amused by our family travesty one night. She was brought to tears laughing so hard. There were a number of things which she laughed at – not the least of which was my father’s lack of control over the situation which was about to unfold.

We were having a leisurely family dinner. I don’t recall everything we were having that night, but the meat dish was ham. Greg and I were commanded to try everything, if not clear our plates. You see – there were people in India starving – or some African nation – I forget. Mailing our food to them was not an option according to my dad. My brother in-law Jeff would hide his food behind the refrigerator. When my in-laws moved the frig they even found a missing plate.

Most kids think they are smarter than their parents. Jeff got away with throwing food (and entire plate) behind the fridge. My parent’s table was not near the fridge – and dad was watching every minute. I think the native American tribes of northern Wyoming and Montana called him “Eagle-Eye Edmonds.” He was probably an honorary member of the “Cree”, but most likely it was the “Flatheads.” (just a joke Dad…)

Greg didn’t like ham. He had a sly style of “not eating” it. “You need to eat it all,” Dad said. “Can I have another napkin?” “No, you’ve had…” I don’t recall how many paper napkins, but there were a pile by his plate. “Chew and swallow.” Somewhere in the conversation my mom said “Duane don’t make him eat it,” or “Duane, he doesn’t have to eat it.” There was a touch of frustration or anger because mother’s intuition told her what was coming next.

“I am feeling sick.” “Finish your Ham – now!”

When Greg started upchucking, I was hiding behind the couch (I was much smaller then!). I couldn’t take it and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t make it. Within moments I heard my mom gagging, and she didn’t make it either.

Aunt Martha was laughing hysterically. Dad had lost control because of a single piece of ham.

-Craig