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2002-09-01 - 9:26 a.m.

NEVER MIND

More than twenty-five years ago, when I was in college, �Saturday Night Live� was all the rage. Some of it was funny. Much of it was stupid. An amazing amount of it was drug-related. Nevertheless, bits of it stuck with me through the years. Events in real life occasionally trigger flashbacks to the show (and I never took the drugs. Go figure!) This week contained an Emily Litella moment.

Emily Litella was a Gilda Radner creation. Emily was older, intense, and earnest. Emily also couldn�t hear. Emily�s rants would be based on the world as heard by Emily and would end after someone finally jumped in and straightened her out. �What are all these complaints I hear about violins on television?� Emily would rant for a while. �Not violins, vi-o-lence,� someone eventually would correct. Emily would stop short. She�d stop in mid-rant and ponder for a moment. Then, in a calmer quieter voice would come her final word, �Never mind.�

I had reason to think of Emily this past week. The week before was a transition week around here. Kat hates transition and, if there is an easy and a hard way to face changes, she takes the hard way. That week with Kat was difficult. Aside from general surliness, I faced a lot of bad language. My general take on bad language is that it is best treated gently. Usually, I tell her to save it for the boys at school. When it is directed at me personally, however, I have no intention of taking it. I told her in no uncertain terms that if she called me a bitch again, I�d live up to the label. And I thought the matter was closed.

Last week, however, the word played a role in family life again. Kat came home from math class with two worksheets. Unfortunately, both of them were the same worksheet. She insisted that everyone must have gotten two of the same worksheet. Her dad and I were unconvinced. �Call someone from the class and check,� we urged. She was outraged. She was bothered. She couldn�t see overcoming her phone phobia when IT WAS NOT HER FAULT. We were unmoved. She faced reality.

She rose from the table. She went for the phone. She muttered�and I exploded. �I will not be treated like this in my own house and in my own presence. I am tired of taking this abuse from you and it will stop. Today...� I worked myself into a fine old rant. I was just warming up. I was so in touch with my inner rant that I didn�t notice the stunned faces, at least not at first.

Then I moved in for the kill. �I have warned you and my warnings are to be taken seriously. I will not be called a bitch...�

�Uh, Plankton,� began Mr. Philately gingerly. �I didn�t hear her say �bitch.� I think she said, �My parents have issues.��

I paused. I pondered. �I thought she said, �My parents are bitches.��

�No,� he persisted. �My parents have issues.�

So I did the only thing left to me. I said exactly what Emily would have said in the same quiet, calm, sheepish tone. There was nothing else to say.

�Never mind.�

LAST YEAR: Curtains

LAST FIVE ENTRIES:

I�ll Never Grow Up
Bear Mountain Perspective
Delicate Balance
All Wet
Paradoxically

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