A Two-Thing Day

My dad is full of Lamprosisms, some that he's coined and some that were made famous by Papou (his dad), but all of which have become a part of my family's vocabulary and are used in casual conversation as though other people might actually understand what they mean. Sometimes the context of the expression belies the meaning (e.g. "Bear ate the last of the smokies and Jess was so pissed, she had a serious heenie! I thought she was gonna blow..."). Other times, the meaning is totally lost on the uninitiated.

I had this experience the other day. I was soooooo tired! I was so tired, I wanted to cry, and I had just gotten to work. I must have been pouting or slamming cash drawers or something, because someone asked me what's "wrong" (a euphemism for "crawled up your ass and died") and I said with an obnoxiously loud sigh, "It's a two-thing day. That's all."

A two-thing day?

Yes. A two-thing day. And it was! I had to go to work AND walk the dog! A prospect that, in my delicate condition, seemed utterly overwhelming. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I was on the verge of tears because of it, either. Poor Sean, because of all months, this month he's out of town three weeks out of four and he feels terrible for it. Anyway, the reasons for the sentiment are beside the point. It's the expression that I'm talking about. And it's such a good one. There really was no other way that I could communicate what I was feeling. "I'm tired" wouldn't have done it, nor would "Sean's out of town so I have to leave to walk the dog," nor would "uh, I'm pregnant, stupid." It was a two-thing day, and that's all there was to it.

The same goes for the aforementioned "heenie" or "heanie" as it is alternately spelled (my dad, as the conceiver of some of these phrases and a ghastly speller has a tendency to change their phonetic spelling regularly), and for the following:

"faat" (fot)
"lay dead"
"get the marmalade"
"gizminkus"
"going halfies"
"who you gonna tell?"
"hotter than Kelsey's nuts"
"how'd I know that? huh?"
"you're the best one"
"what are you waiting for, an invitation?"
answering a phone call with "Telephone?" instead of "hello"

Then there are other Papouisms that were just plain silly. My favorite was always the cheer he insisted that he and his friends actually used back in the day, that goes like this:

"Ra ra ree!
Kick 'em in the knee!
Ra ra rass!
Kick 'em in the....
other knee!"

That one always made me laugh. As did the telling of the only two dreams the man apparently ever had in his life. One was about falling off a very high cliff, and when he woke up, he was on the floor. (Bah-dum-dum.) The other was about eating the biggest, most delicious and fluffy marshmallow! And when he woke up, his pillow was gone. (Thanks folks...I'll be here all night. Try the veal.)

The list really could be a mile long. But a lot is in the delivery, so admittedly there's something lost here on the page. In almost every case, though, the phrase was born of necessity and really is the only way to express that particular sentiment. Funny how so much of the way my family feels has a Yonkers accent. Even my mom, The Jewess (it was affectionate coming from my Papou. Jesus was a Jew, after all. How'd I know that? I'm smart.) still uses Lamprosisms regularly, ten-plus years after she and my dad parted ways.

My Ya-ya had her own list of sayings that we razzed her about, and that we continue to throw around when we're together, mostly I think as a way of remembering her without having to be sentimental or mushy about it. When Sean and I walk into the house late at night after driving all the way from Jersey, my dad asks what he can get us to eat, and says "There's pizza, and I got a roast in the oven. I know, kiddo, that's not enough. Here--I'll put some rigatoni on the stove!" In fact, lots of the Ya-ya jokes are about being force-fed, like when my brother pushes his plate away after eating a full meal and my dad says, "What, you're not hungry? Let me get the sling-shot..."

Other Ya-yaisms were just plain mistakes--innocent ones--that we never let her get away with. The one I remember best is when she was trying to think of the name of a famous baseball player she'd just watched a documentary on. You know, the one who used to wear socks. Or one sock. Or a black stocking. That's it! "Stocking-foot Joe!" No..."Black Stocking Joe!" Wait...that's not it... I got it! "Footless Joe Jackson!"

I'm hoping that this kid ends up learning Lamprosisms by osmosis--just because they're a fact of his/her life, like they were mine. Hell, Sean doesn't need a translator anymore when we go back to Cleveland, and he's even started using some himself. It might sound silly, but it's even better than having pictures of Ya-ya and Papou around.