Grandpa Kline's Poppycock {Not Your Average Caramel Corn}

Have you ever been in a situation where things were just out of your control? Welcome to how I felt at the dinner table every Sunday afternoon from ages 8 to about 15. Growing up, my parents were always inviting people to eat Sunday dinner with our family.  One family became a regular— Fred and Ruth Coleman with their (at the time) single children Kristin and Miles.

The Colemans weren’t really guests; they were an extension of our family.  Because my Mom wanted to contain most of the excitement in the kitchen, we established a very mature and educational “Kid’s Table.” The Kid’s Table was for anyone who felt they needed the freedom to keep their elbows on the table and say whatever they wanted. Well, that is what I thought when I chose to sit there.

Unfortunately, freedom of speech was snatched up a few weeks after the establishment of the “Kids Table.”  You see, for some reason Miles felt that we needed to implement some conversational standards. Thanks to his creativity, he developed, with group consensus, what became known as the “don’t speak unless you are spoken to game.”

At first, this game was really fun. These were the rules:

1. Miles held the floor first
2. He addressed a second party by name, who would then take the floor.
3. At any time Miles could announce a “bonus round” during which he regained the floor.

I loved it, for the first five minutes. Soon I noticed an anomaly. Each time I (accidentally) received the floor there was a bonus round. Interestingly enough, this trend continued consistently in the following weeks. Eventually the realization hit me that my freedom of speech had been swallowed by the words “bonus round,” and that was if I even had the chance to speak.

Now, before you start feeling sorry for me, let me explain. As hard as this is to say, I do not blame the Table for implementing this game. The real reason why Miles had to call “bonus round” when I had the floor was because I did not understand the rules. I thought that when I gained the floor I was supposed to speak for at least 15 minutes straight at about 110 dB (the sound of a jet engine). Clearly, the "bonus round" was intended to preserve the residual hearing of my fellow Table Mates.

On a serious note, the “don’t speak unless you are spoken to game” was a direct result of my ability to speak long, loud, and high pitched. Those who experienced the “Kids Table” in my younger years will tell you that this game was the key to their sanity.
-Sarah Lou