When I was young we had a 95th birthday party for my great-grandfather. I was only about 5 years old at the time, but I have some vivid memories of the day. All of my family was there, aunts, uncles, cousins and of course my parents and siblings.
My grandmother and grandfather hosted the event at their house. My dad had stayed up all night the night before the party to roast a hog in honor of his grandfather. My dad is a champion hog roaster. This skill involves persistence and the ability to wake up at intervals throughout the night to turn the pig as necessary. It also involves copious amounts of beer, both to pour over the pig and for said roaster to drink. As it was the 1970's, and the heart of the Midwest- my best guess is that the beer was PBR- Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Great-grandfather's favorite part of the pig was the sweet-meats. Ugh- makes me sick just to think about it. Second best in his opinion was the "cracklings"- the crisp bits of the skin, most likely made crispier due to the plentiful quantities of PBR doused over the roasting hog.
The day of the party, my grandmother brings out this cake for her father. I don't know who had the idea to get this cake for my great-grandfather, but I was captivated. Out rolls this cake, some kind of 3 dimensional cake I couldn't have ever imagined. It was a woman in a bikini with huge breasts made of mounds of rounded cake. Great-grandfather's wife Mabel kept yelling in his ear, "it's a woman, Arthur, it's a woman." He finally looks at the cake, looks back to Mabel and says plain as day, "I know Mabel, I'm not
that old!" Even at 5 I knew something hysterically comic when I heard it. I wish I could find a picture of that cake.
I spent the rest of the day playing with my clackers and thinking what a shame it was we actually had to cut up that divine cake. For those of you who don't know what clackers are- they're 2 glass balls hooked together by a string. You clack the balls together by holding the top of the string and bobbing your hand up and down. Pure entertainment to a 5-year-old, pure hell to all adults in a 100 foot range of said clacking.
a very subdued audio clip of clackers- it doesn't truly illustrate the volume and annoying nature.
Great-grandfather's favorite part of the pig was the sweet-meats. Ugh- makes me sick just to think about it. Second best in his opinion was the "cracklings"- the crisp bits of the skin, most likely made crispier due to the plentiful quantities of PBR doused over the roasting hog.
The day of the party, my grandmother brings out this cake for her father. I don't know who had the idea to get this cake for my great-grandfather, but I was captivated. Out rolls this cake, some kind of 3 dimensional cake I couldn't have ever imagined. It was a woman in a bikini with huge breasts made of mounds of rounded cake. Great-grandfather's wife Mabel kept yelling in his ear, "it's a woman, Arthur, it's a woman." He finally looks at the cake, looks back to Mabel and says plain as day, "I know Mabel, I'm not that old!" Even at 5 I knew something hysterically comic when I heard it. I wish I could find a picture of that cake.
I spent the rest of the day playing with my clackers and thinking what a shame it was we actually had to cut up that divine cake. For those of you who don't know what clackers are- they're 2 glass balls hooked together by a string. You clack the balls together by holding the top of the string and bobbing your hand up and down. Pure entertainment to a 5-year-old, pure hell to all adults in a 100 foot range of said clacking.
