I'm taking this one personally

Yesterday I wrote of how what you miss about people once they are gone is the small moments, the casual conversations, the trivial stories. And this morning's Bizarro touches off a memory of one of those things, with what is, on the surface, just an amusing pun.

A type of gag I like, by the way, because it has an earworm quality to it: Once you've heard it, you'll hear it again every time you walk down the cereal aisle.

Especially if, like me, your grandfather had Grape Nuts thrust upon him.

My grandfather's family was not "poor," but, then, I'm not sure Ironwood, Michigan, featured a lot of economic diversity at the turn of the 20th century when he was a very young lad.

His family didn't have a lot, but neither did most of his classmates' families.

At a somewhat later stage in his life, what he saw around him became motivation for a true American Dream-style rise in the world, but I don't think it was on his radar at this point.

But there's always someone who stands above the crowd, and there were two little girls, twins, who were apparently well-off by Upper Peninsula standards, or at least were being raised as if they were, and who invited everyone to their birthday party, at which they planned to serve Grape Nuts.

I'm not sure exactly when this party happened, but my grandfather was born in 1893 and Grape-Nuts were invented in 1897 and he'd never heard of Grape-Nuts.

In any case, the twins made much of this new, exciting treat that was the main feature of the festivities and, after all, he had heard of grapes, which he liked, and he knew what nuts were, and he liked them, too.

Nor was he the only one of their contemporaries who looked forward to the grand day when they would have Grape-Nuts.

To get the full impact of the story, you have to know that my grandfather was the son of Danish immigrants and shared the same gentle twinkle-and-chuckle sense of humor as his fellow-Dane, Victor Borge.

And, while he would explain the twins and their promise and his preconceptions in a completely straightforward manner, when he came to the moment of The Great Unveiling, he would begin to chuckle.

On the day of the grand soiree -- following the presentation of gifts, comme il faut -- each child had placed before him a tiny bowl -- and he would gesture to indicate a bowl that might hold a third of a cup -- of these things that were neither grapes nor nuts.

Which was probably just fine, because, as small as his portion was, he didn't need even that much to know they'd all been led down the garden path by a pair of spoiled little girls who, in all likelihood, were not in fact any wealthier than any of the rest of them.

None of which Dan Piraro even knew, much less intended, when he drew this, but henceforth, when you hear the phrase, you will have an image of what it truly means to have Grape-Nuts thrust upon you.

 

But wait, there's more:

The Wikipedia page from which I got the 1900 Grape-Nuts ad as well as their date-of-origin points out that they contain neither grapes nor nuts.

A bit late for my grandfather's benefit, but it also notes that Grape-Nuts are a flavor of ice cream, which touches off a similar story with a different ending, which surely came about in the same time period.

The family was invited to dinner by neighbors who were going to serve "ice cream," and my grandfather employed that same sharp future-mining-engineer's analytical reasoning to the idea: He knew what ice was and he knew what cream was and so he also knew that the combination couldn't possibly be any good.

He decided then and there that he wasn't going to have any.

And, even after being forced that evening to try just one spoonful, he was determined not to like the stuff, and I can just picture the little fellow sitting in a sulk, arms crossed, refusing to think too much about what had happened in his mouth moments ago.

However, he did decide the next day to drop by the neighbors' and ask if he could pick some rhubarb for his mother from the patch in their yard, and the lady of the house said that of course he could and, by the way, they had a little ice cream left over from the night before and would he like some?

Which he decided he would.

Without, mind you, admitting that perhaps he had been a bit hasty in his previous judgment.

Thank goodness that level of stubbornness isn't genetic, eh?

Thanks for the nostalgic flash, Dan. 

 

Never admit to anyone, especially yourself, that 'you did the best you could.' In the first place it probably isn't true, and secondly you are saying that your best is not good enough, you are admitting defeat. Many people feel that such a remark justifies them before the world. I claim that it merely proclaims incompetence. -- Arthur F. Peterson, Sr.

Comments

[Mary in Ohio]

I believe that ad is the only time "Grape-Nuts" and "cool" have ever been linked.

[Russ Hall]

"Grape-Nuts" never figured into the recollection, but glancing through the thread reminded me of meeting your grandfather sometime in the sixties when all of us were visiting in Star Lake. We were in grad school and lived in Kansas at the time. Upon hearing where we lived, he informed us that he had fond memories of Kansas, having "won World War Two there--in Fort Riley, Kansas."

[Mike Peterson]

World War I, that would be. And he had a pretty funny story from Ft. Riley about a know-it-all in his outfit. They had to take cavalry training in those days, and this fellow was the expert in that, too.

Last they saw of him, his horse had veered off into a corn field and they kept seeing him pop up over the top of the plants in various poses that did not suggest he was in full control of his mount.

There was a theory among them that perhaps the non-coms had had enough of the young lieutenant as well and that the horse had not been chosen entirely at random.