Everybody Should Quit At Least Once

Seymour shouted in wide-eyed disbelief. His fork made a metal to china clink effectively signaling the end of dinner. He looked away for a moment toward the window and the rusty jungle gym where memories of as recently as an hour ago brought a tiny smile to his dropping expression. He remembered how the kid’s laughter once filled the backyard and how a small pile of sand and a few seashells would keep Naomi and her friends busy for hours. That was then, he thought, this was now. His smile disappeared.

"I said, the three of us are going to travel around the country for about a year."

Seymour gently placed the knife back beside the large plate. His mind began to sense other matters were to become far more pressing that the consistency of the meatloaf or the amount of sugar in a packet of frozen french cut string beans with mushrooms and pearl onions. He was always watching labels. He put his appetite on hold. The full impact of his daughter and his son-in-law and his grandson considering such a journey was yet to be understood.

The freshly made eggplant spread he loved so dearly would remain untouched as would the brisket and gravy and the kasha and butter, and spinach soufflé'. Seymour's eyes darted from side to side in relentless pursuit of the right words.

"Relax, Seymour," Dottie replied her eyes sweeping across the table. She was making a mental note of all the food that would have to be reheated once the dinner service continued. "The kids probably know what they're doing. Please don't butt in. Let it be and finish your dinner. We can always talk about it later. The food is going to get cold."

Dottie's nervousness was apparent in the puzzled chatter and the boiling clatter of filled pots left unattended. She casually lit a cigarette at the filter end, and then forgot where she placed the ashtray.

"Dottie, please. I want to talk about it now." Seymour was adamant. His expression took almost no time to change from mildly curious to downright angry to majorly pissed.

"What about your job and your house, for heaven's sake?" Seymour firmly inquired.

"Both, I am happy to report, are very replaceable," I answered calmly.

"Replaceable my ass." Seymour shouted. My father-in-law was definitely preparing for the big burst. It was like a volcano ready to erupt. It was like nausea in its final-wrenching seconds. Seymour's temper was legendary. The stuff of stories. Tales now elevated to myth about white-knuckle anger, crimson red vein popping experiences where family members knew enough to stay away. Like an uncontrollable seizure as it took hold or a desert Gila monster refusing to release its noose like grip. But, it was momentary, short-lived. Here, then gone. An amazing and a rather remarkable transformation. David Banner turned to Hulk and then back again.

"You mean you expect to get back the same job at the same pay with management having the same good feelings about your ability and still be considered among those in the company they'd choose to advance? You expect the company to view your leaving like this as character they want in management? You think they'll wait for you? And the house? You just bought it. You've hardly lived in it. You're just going to throw it all away? Do you have a large screw loose?"

Seymour continued, "Do you think for a moment you will be able to replace your colonial for the same money? Will the housing market wait for you until you get back? Do you think the market will stand still while you and your family gallivant around the country? What with mortgage rates shooting through the roof and banks closing the doors on even the best credit risks, you won't stand a chance."

These were all excellent questions yet questions for which I really had no answers. Better to have been asked something about race relations or the cause of delinquency and crime or what it was like to see snot coming out of the nose of my sixth grade classmate when he was given a carton of milk and a bag of chocolate chip cookies and had an immediate need to sneeze. But, whether my colonial would retain its value or the job market would be kind as I return to an often-unforgiving society, I had no clue.