French FriesDay

 French FriesDay  

The usual Friday, with variations.

     I picked up Uncle Albert at 10:45. And he went with me to my appointment with Dr. Feight to read the magazines. (See here.) I asked Dr. Feight if he had read Choderlos de Laclos’ Dangerous Liaisons. “I don’t think you pronounce the s’s,” he said, “ʃɔdɛʁlo də laklo.”

     “Yes,” I said. “Sorry.”

     “Why?” he asked.

     “I just wondered,” I said.

Bright’s

Afterwards, instead of going home for soup egg-salad sandwiches, Uncle Albert and I met Nils and Axel Sundstrøm for lunch at Bright’s Dairy-Rite. Hamburgers and French fries.

     The tables at Bright’s are Formica. The air smells of hot oil, soft ice cream, and mustard.

“I hear ‘Trumpet’ Magnusson was in town,” Nils said.* “Still celebrating his humility, is he?” We’ve all ordered hamburgers and fries. We’ve all ordered Pepsis, except for Nils, who was drinking water.

     “That’s how he got his nickname,” Nils said. They’d been in college together, Magnusson like Nils and Axel headed for Seminary and the Lutheran pastorate until after a junior year abroad in Stockholm, he spent the (following) summer in Salisbury, “studying the Sarum rite,” according to Nils. “So he left for the higher calling of a higher church.”

     Nils took a bite of his hamburger. “What a prig,” he said, mouth half-full. “And at such a young age. Pedant! Prig!! Pompous pinchfart!!!”

     Uncle Albert wanted to know what that meant. “Don’t pull your punches,” he said to Nils. He emphasized the p’s in “pull” and “punches.” Nils took the bait.

     “More interested in rite than religion,” Nils said, rolling the r’s. “More interested in the sound of his own voice than either.”

     “We’ve all been young,” Uncle Albert said.

Axel didn’t say anything. I didn’t either. We ate our burgers and our fries and sipped our Pepsis.

     “You tell me,” Nils said. Because we’d heard him two Sundays ago.

     I looked at Uncle Albert, who seemed to be considering the question. I shook my head. Uncle Albert picked up a fry, pointed it at Nils, and put it in his mouth.

     Bright’s plays fifties and sixties. Sam Cooke is whining that he “ain’t got nobody.”

12.08.19

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 * Our preacher for Christ the King Sunday. See here.