When life imitates art
ARE THE COEN BROTHERS EAVESDROPPING ON ALL OF US?
This is a real conversation recorded in 2010 between my dad and me. Seeing it again after all these years made me laugh and think we had entered another dimension, like our own version of Stranger Than Fiction.
[Taking a break from work, I walk over to the kitchen and find my ninety-three-year-old father making himself a sandwich. He’s a little deaf, so I have to be careful about speaking louder than I would normally. There’s a fine line between being really loud and sounding angry, so these kinds of conversations can turn into an argument even when we’re in agreement. Dad begins the proceedings.]
“Do you like sardines?”
“No, I don’t like fishy smelling things.”
“Well, you don’t smell the fish, I added mayonnaise to cut the smell.”
“No thanks.” (I’ve only said that I hate mayo my entire life.)
“Do you think your wife would like a sandwich? I have some left.”
“She hates mayonnaise.” (also mentioned repeatedly since she came to the U.S. in 1984. She’s from France where they make real mayonnaise from scratch using fresh eggs yolks, oil, dijon mustard, salt, and pepper — light years away from the processed white phlegm we buy in supermarkets. It’s like asking a French person if they like French dressing. They’ll look at you with a puzzled and/or horrified expression. Puzzled because it doesn’t exist in France. Horrified if you make them taste it.)
“Well, I’ll save it for her if she wants it.”
“Could you please wrap the bowl in plastic, so it doesn’t stink up the fridge?”
“I’ll put it in the refrigerator.”
“Yeah, but could you wrap it in plastic?”
“Don’t you know I always do that? You’re always complaining about how I have leftovers in the fridge.”
“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question directly.”
“Oh, you’re right. I should have answered yes or no.”
“Thanks…”
“That’s something that you always do with me, where you jump ahead to a different point.”
“I know, that’s why I pointed out that you were doing the same thing.”
“Yes, but you do that all the time.”
“Why are you changing the subject?”
“I thought we were finished with the last subject, so I was jumping to the next one.”
“But we were done. You recognized that you didn’t answer my question, and I said thanks. Why do you have to turn the focus back on me, when I didn’t do anything this time?”
“Well, you said you agreed, so I went on to the next subject.”
“But the point is, you can’t just acknowledge when you’re wrong, you’ve got to deflect the focus onto someone else.”
“I know, that’s what you always do.”
At this point, I started laughing and so did my dad. I retreated to my office to prevent the conversation from starting up again.
