Hey, Nanny, Tell ‘Em What It Sounds Like When You Pass Gas

Our third installment of TALES…OF THANKSGIVING!

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I miss my grandmother.

Nanny, as she was known, was a huge part of my childhood and quite possibly the most well-connected person in Troy. If someone needed to get hired for a job or a hiccup in the bureaucracy prevented something from getting done, it all got resolved within a handful of phone calls once she got involved. This was due to a combination of her involvement in politics and the strength of her personality.

Our best – or perhaps favorite – stories at family gatherings usually involve her. I’ll more than likely end up sharing a few of them with you at some point, along with the unique vocabulary she and her sisters employed.

Every Thanksgiving, I’m reminded of something she told us when I was still a child.

If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say I was nine years old at the time. It was one of the few times my family had a kids’ table. Although I was at another table, my Nanny’s booming voice carried into the living room where I was sitting from the kitchen, which allowed me to at least hear half of every conversation that was occurring.

Then, after a brief pause in the conversation that seemed like an enternity, came the greatest Thanksgiving quote of all time.

“…and when I pass gas it sounds like dogs barking!”

I broke out into laughter and very nearly peed myself.

Every year after and since, I’ve brought up that quote. When I was still a child/a teen, my family would scold me for focusing on that one moment. They felt it was childish, and immature, for me to obsess over the fact that Nanny one time said that when she passes gas it sounded like dogs barking.

Well you know what, rest of my family? Screw you! I’m still a child at heart, and that’s still goddamn hilarious.

I will continue this tradition once I get old enough to talk about whatever the Hell I want to talk about at the dinner table, whether it’s my next door neighbor making birthday cakes for Jesus at Christmas or the fact that I can recreate the “Dogs Singing Jingle Bells” song with my farts. I will make it a necessity that after a meal and before dessert, all of the children gather around me so I can tell them the story.

“Gather around, children,” I’ll say, “and let me tell you story.”

Then, once they’re gathered, I’ll begin my tale.

“I still miss my grandmother…”