by Michael Johnson

Created on: July 03, 2007

THE FLAPTULANCE HEARD AROUND THE WORLD!

Every Thanksgiving we would go to my grandmother's house. It was a treat for my sister and me. Our two eyes were open with anticipation to the sight of my 90-year-old grandmother. She had lived in the same quite town of Schenectady New York for almost fifty years. I loved visiting her because it gave some normalcy to an otherwise complicated teenage years.

This thanksgiving would be different though. You see my mother sister and I lived in Colorado, being such my mother started to get a flair for Spanish food. With the eagerness of a child in a candy store my mother asked this year to cook a wonderful Spanish rice recipe which she had learned. She asked my grandmother with hound dog eyes if this would be allowed in her Jewish home.
"Is it kosher?" My grandmother asked with a raised eyebrow and a hint of skepticism.
"Mom of course it is. There will be no meat or milk just rice and vegetables and a couple of spices I don't think you have."
"Is it to spicy?" My grandmother turned from her normal sweet disposition to one of complete declaration. It was as if she was demanding the rights of a surrendered empire. Little did she know.
"Mom it is a little spicy, but not that much just a couple of different peppers, in a small amount."
"You know spicy food does not agree with me don't you." This last statement ended with a little bit of singing in her voice as if to drive home the point that doing anything bad to grandma might end this wonderful harmony.
My mother at this point became child like and started to through somewhat of a fit. It was if cooking this one dish would relieve her of all the pains my grandmother caused her as a child. My grandmother shrugged and replied "of course dear."
It was the night before thanksgiving and the wonderful aroma of my mothers Spanish rice dish was billowing throughout the house. We sat down and ate dinner my grandmother to my mothers delight thoroughly enjoyed the dish, and even asked for a third helping.
My mother asked her if it was to spicy and my grandmother replied with all the love she could muster in her harmonious voice that it was "delicious" and "we must have this again".
That was not the last harmony played in the house that night, though it was played in the highest key.
Later that night after everyone was ready for bed I got up to brush my teeth. My dear sweet grandma pushed me at of the way and said "excuse me It is an emergency."
I went back into the room and with a great amount of concern said to my sister "Something is wrong with grandma!" She looked up from the book she was reading and said with a slight smirk "Do you think that the food was to spicy?"
Then it happened I don't know if you know anything about the Jewish faith but one of the basic beliefs is that Jesus is not the son of god, but rather the son of man. However, this night it was Jesus my grandmother called upon to help her.
The room we were staying in shared a wall with the bathroom. We had front stage for what I can only assume from personal experience was that longest running successions of farts heard anywhere at any time.

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