at any family function, stories always circulate about my great-grandparents, great-aunts and uncles, my father and his brothers as kids, et cetera. I love it, it’s one of my favorite parts of the holidays. a lot of them I’ve heard a million times, but still laugh just as hard (and, I’ll admit, occasionally may snort).
this one was new to me though. my dad told it on christmas eve:
my great-grandfather worked as a carpenter. during the flu epidemic (pandemic?) he stopped working on houses and started making solely coffins. one day he started feeling sick, and assumed he was getting the flu. and that, like most everybody else, he was going to die (he was young, maybe twenty). so he scraped together his money, went out after he finished working that day, and bought himself a steak dinner. he figured, ‘If I’m going out, might as well have a nice steak before I go.’
he woke up the next morning feeling perfectly fine. he went on to get married within a year, had three kids, and lived to see all of his great-grandchildren except for me.
he credited that steak with curing him of the flu.
this story fascinates me and just…makes me so happy. my father is so much like that. and I am so not like that, which is why I think I’m so fascinated. but just…what a fantastic outlook on life, what a great way to live.
so my take-away message? eat steak. : )