For Fifty Cents

My wife’s grandparents were saints. We used to visit them and her aunt quite frequently in the sleepy little farming town of Dassel, Minnesota. On one visit we sat down at the table for a little Fika with Grandpa Ernest and Grandma Elfrida. Grandma Elfrida was a big Swedish Grandmother who moved around slowly and deliberately with great effort and pageantry. Grandpa was a wiry gent filled with energy. Ernest was a retired minister in the Covenant church.

Partway through our visit Aunt Ethel let herself in and immediately displayed the most gigantic bra I have ever seen. It was so large, in fact, that I thought it was a joke bra and had to rethink everything I knew about Aunt Ethel and her Swedish countenance. Everyone in the room was confused by the site, which told me this was no joke. Aunt Ethel had a purpose. And it involved this horrifically enormous bra.

She immediately went over to her sister, Elfrida and said, “Look what I found you at a garage sale for fifty cents!” Although Elfrida was a big woman, surely there was no woman created by God that could fit into this brassiere. We were all shocked that Ethel would ever think her sister was that large of bosom. No one was more unsettled than Elfrida herself. Almost as scandalous, her sister was displaying undergarments in front of her grandson-in-law which was certainly a breach of Scandinavian protocol and conduct. My wife and I anxiously awaited what would happen next.

Very politely, using her many years of diplomatic experience as a minister’s wife, she said, “Ethel, I’m not sure that’s my style.” Personally, I thought that comment was well played. Without missing a beat, and somewhat under her breath in disgust, Ethel replied, “Well, for fifty cents, I’d change my style.” We had to excuse ourselves to the back garden for a huge laugh. Thankfully, they were all deaf, too.