Cathy was always the quintessential performer and an attention hungry artist all her life. Whether it be playing the piano, singing or performing some audacious skit she loved the lime light.
Now, the story I want to tell you illustrates her hunger for the center stage, no matter what the cost. But first, I’d like to preface the anecdote by point out that my memories and I’ll bet everyone over the age of fifty, are not digital records that stay perfectly and accurately complete. That said, let me tell you my recollection of “Chatty Cathy’s” backyard devilled egg incident or as I used to refer to it “The crime of the century…”
It was a pleasant summer day and we were going to have a backyard “soiree” of monumental proportions. It was a significant event that mom had toiled lovingly for days sprucing up the backyard, working her prized flower beds and food preparation. Now here’s where the memory problems of an old man crop up. I can’t for the life of me even remember what we were celebrating or who was in attendance. But I can tell you that mom was making my favourite dish: DEVILED EGGS -WOW! I still salivate when I think about those creamy, paprika sprinkled delicacies.
Ok, on to the crime. Mom had diligently populated the biggest tray she could find with a truly gargantuan quantity of my beloved delicacies. When from out of the blue CC struck. Eleven years old, brash and attention seeking Chatty Cathy, as my Dad like to call her, decided that she was going to take the bounty out to our guests in the backyard. She snatched up the tray and sprinted for the back porch. She safely navigated her way out of doors then decided to hoist the tray up over her shoulder and sling the food professionally the way a waitress in a restaurant might. I still remember the smug look on her face. She had stolen the show and she was bloody proud she did. BUT…………..a misstep or miscalculation caused her to dump the entire tray of devilled eggs face down in the garden. Shock! Anger and remorse filled my entire body. Those precious succulent gems were lost forever. I remember scrambling around on the ground on my hands and knees trying to recover any eggs that weren’t smashed into the freshly manure covered flower beds YUCK!
That was it. The rest is a fog. Did I push her face in the flower beds or did she run to safety by Dads side. I really don’t know. Furthermore, I’m not sure if it was accidental or “the Devil made her do it”. You know, to spite her rotten big brother or simply another entertaining show put on for the families’ amusement.
Like I said before, the show never ends when Cathy was in the fray. But you had to love her even when the eggs hit the shit.
Michael J. Ford
