Forever, Erma

  Forever, Erma

  Best-Loved Writing From America’s Favorite Humorist

  Erma Bombeck

  Contents

  Foreword

  Hello, Young Mothers

  Paint Tint Caper—September 4, 1965

  Birds, Bees and Guppies—January 6, 1966

  Good Neighbor Policy—May 16, 1966

  Waking Up Momma—July 4, 1966

  When Last Child Goes to School—September 5, 1966

  Surviving Motherhood—September 1966

  Costume for the School Play—May 29, 1968

  Outgrowing Naps—August 14, 1968

  A Mother’s Eye—August 18, 1968

  No More Oatmeal Kisses—January 29, 1969

  Confirmed Shouter—March 5, 1969

  Youngest Child Tries to Tell a Joke—May 23, 1969

  “Are We Rich?”—June 3, 1971

  When God Created Mothers—May 12, 1974

  Motherhood—Love and Laughter—September 1974

  How to Communicate with Toddlers—December 1974

  The Twelve Days of School—September 1975

  “Things My Mother Taught Me” Assignment—September 28, 1975

  A Baby’s Bill of Rights—November 13, 1975

  Happiness and Motherhood—April 24, 1980

  Disposable Diapers—February 8, 1990

  Spit—March 18, 1990

  All My Children

  Children Cornering the Coin Market—January 5, 1965

  My Son, the President—October 30, 1965

  “I Don’t Want to Go to Grandma’s”—May 1966

  Going Deaf from Rock ’n’ Roll—January 23, 1967

  Daughter Learning to Drive—July 18, 1969

  Phone Messages—October 22, 1969

  Working Mom’s Telephone Crisis—May 28, 1971

  I’ve Always Loved You Best—July 20, 1971

  Mike and the Grass—May 1973

  Live-in Neighbor Child—September 30, 1973

  Kids: Life’s Greatest Mysteries—July 29, 1975

  I Loved You Enough to...—January 6, 1976

  Parents Get Apartment—June 6, 1976

  Children Are Like Kites—May 15, 1977

  Summertime Blues—August 3, 1978

  Local or Toll Call Girlfriend?—February 1, 1979

  Marching to a Different Drummer—November 3, 1979

  Parenthood Is Worth the Risks—September 2, 1980

  Favorite Child—May 10, 1981

  The First Day of School—September 3, 1981

  Third Child—November 5, 1981

  Mother-Son Dialogue—January 13, 1987

  Different Mother for Each Child—June 26, 1990

  Housewife’s Lament

  Soap Operas—June 1, 1965

  Lost Identity—September 18, 1965

  When the Memory Starts to Go—June 9, 1967

  Subversive Window Washer—September 29, 1967

  Sewing-Basket Blues—November 21, 1969

  Ironing—June 10, 1971

  The Mother Who Drives—June 11, 1972

  Making Paycheck Stretch—October 1972

  A Housewife’s Prayer—October 1974

  Mom Last to Get Cold—October 16, 1975

  “I Was 37 Years Old at the Time”—August 7, 1976

  Dumpy Paper Dress—March 31, 1977

  Handbags—October 25, 1977

  Bizarre Accidents—November 29, 1981

  Turning into Mother—June 1, 1989

  Love and Marriage

  Get Well for Mom—April 3, 1966

  Cleaning Out the Attic—December 28, 1966

  Interpreting the Checkbook—April 24, 1967

  Men Have a Six-Word Limit—July 23, 1969

  Car Hits a Tree—January 24, 1971

  Daytime Husband, Nocturnal Wife—March 22, 1971

  Keeping Track of Valuable Papers—June 1972

  Husband Born Late—October 8, 1972

  Husband Dreads Hammering Nails in the Wall—November 23, 1972

  My Husband the Prince of Darkness—February 20, 1973

  Husband Has Clothes for All Occasions—May 8, 1979

  Jim Is Retired—May 19, 1985

  My Social Life—November 3, 1985

  Clippers—April 26, 1987

  Car Heater—December 11, 1988

  Husband Reads at Night—March 14, 1989

  Husband Preempts His Christmas Gifts—December 10, 1992

  Home Sweet Home

  Household Hints—September 11, 1965

  The Home Handyman—January 18, 1966

  The American Clothesline—April 20, 1967

  Getting Locked Out—July 8, 1968

  No Pencil in the House—February 17, 1969

  The Husband Who Prunes—September 15, 1969

  Garage Sales—June 6, 1971

  Relaxing with “Country Gardens”—October 26, 1975

  Working Wife/Maid Communication—September 28, 1982

  VCR—January 24, 1985

  “What Time Is It?”—November 2, 1986

  Boston Fern—November 13, 1986

  Repairmanese—March 3, 1988

  Eyeglasses in Every Room—June 27, 1989

  Weekends—March 15, 1990

  Changing of the Closets—May 1, 1990

  Swinging Was Respectable on Front Porch—September 22, 1994

  Martha Stewart—September 27, 1995

  Dear Old Dad

  When God Created Fathers—June 17, 1973

  Consolidating Cereal, Ice Cream, Cookies, etc.—December 8, 1974

  Stepfather—January 6, 1980

  Daddy Doll Under the Bed—June 21, 1981

  Speak “Thermostat”—December 19, 1982

  New Generation of Fathers—June 21, 1987

  Food for Thought

  The Instead-of Cookbook—November 4, 1965

  Weight Watchers Dilemma—April 27, 1972

  Burning Calories—August 18, 1974

  Dinner Is Ready—May 24, 1977

  Dieting Is a Losing Battle—March 21, 1978

  Seven Days to Make Garbage—May 3, 1981

  Thawing Hamburger—March 9, 1982

  Fruitcake—December 11, 1986

  Doggie Bags—August 25, 1987

  Spices—July 26, 1988

  Older People Only Talk about Food—May 24, 1990

  Leftovers That Refuse to Die—December 17, 1991

  Leftover Halloween Candy—December 1, 1994

  Tooth Traps—June 4, 1995

  The Empty Nest

  Daughter Returns to College—January 28, 1972

  Picking Up the Tennis Ball—July 24, 1975

  Empty Nest Overrated—October 1, 1978

  Parents Covet Kids’ Closets—August 9, 1979

  “Not to Worry”—July 15, 1984

  My Son’s Answering Machine—June 22, 1986

  Remembering Children’s Names and Ages—June 14, 1987

  Kids Show Up for Dinner—July 19, 1990

  Parent-Child Bonding—January 13, 1991

  When Grown Kids Come to Visit—December 20, 1995

  Special People

  Grandma and Funerals—November 20, 1968

  Love Is a Grandparent—November 3, 1974

  The Volunteer—June 24, 1975

  Mother Earned Her Wrinkles—February 8, 1976

  The Listener—February 26, 1977

  Mothers of Disabled Children—May 11, 1980

  Heroes—August 2, 1981

  Caregivers—November 26, 1991

  Mothers Who Have Lost a Child—May 14, 1995

  Wish You Were Here (Instead of Me)

  Help Thy Neighbor—August 25, 1968

  Men Never Ask Directions—August 24, 1969

  The Last Family Vacation—June 1972

  Parking the
Family Trailer—June 1972

  Showing Slides of Vacation—February 26, 1974

  Continental Breakfast—August 17, 1975

  Elusive Rest Area—July 11, 1976

  Seeing America by Headlights—September 16, 1980

  Eleven-Piece Vacation Wardrobe—July 21, 1981

  Traveling with Tripod—July 27, 1982

  Alaska Cruise and Smoked Salmon—April 21, 1987

  The Holidays

  Children of Christmas—December 25, 1969

  Kids Are Sick...It Must Be Christmas—December 18, 1970

  Family Christmas Newsletter—December 9, 1971

  Christmas Chimes—December 23, 1976

  Son Home for the Holidays?—January 2, 1977

  Halloween Challenges “No Talent” Mother—October 30, 1979

  Grandfather’s Solitude—December 25, 1979

  No One Diets on Thanksgiving—November 26, 1981

  “Love Is” List for a Gusto Husband—February 14, 1982

  Thanksgiving and Families—November 25, 1982

  Memory Tree—December 22, 1983

  Christmas Newsletter Winner—December 12, 1985

  Undecorating the Christmas Tree—January 1, 1987

  “Equal” Christmas Gifts—December 22, 1994

  The Gang’s All Here

  Entertaining—November 18, 1965

  Mouse in the Pump Organ—January 13, 1971

  My Husband Builds a Fire—December 1971

  “Come Casual”—April 1975

  Party Hostess Loneliest Person in the World—September 1975

  College Reunion—November 3, 1977

  Trip to the Rest Room—October 25, 1979

  Pepper Mill Experience—December 18, 1983

  Grandma’s Grudges—May 1, 1984

  Houseguests—August 6, 1985

  Restaurant Conversation—October 20, 1985

  Hors d’Oeuvres—December 5, 1985

  Family Goodbyes—July 28, 1994

  Planning Birthday Celebrations—November 8, 1994

  Of Missing Socks, Promiscuous Hangers and Other Unexplained Phenomena

  Socks Lost in Washer—May 28, 1969

  Girdles—May 18, 1970

  Creeping Underwear—December 1972

  Socks Still Lost in Washer—April 1, 1973

  Pantskirt in the Rest Room—September 1973

  Coat Hangers—September 18, 1984

  No Luck with Pantyhose—November 10, 1985

  Crockpot Sock—March 20, 1990

  The Restless Car—October 1, 1995

  The Catchall Drawer

  Talent—June 6, 1966

  Even Charity Has Its Bounds—January 2, 1967

  Time—November 17, 1971

  Women Are Financial Giants—February 19, 1980

  Junk Drawers—January 17, 1984

  Box Savers—December 20, 1984

  I’m-Not-Going Syndrome—October 28, 1986

  Fashion Trends Pioneer—October 11, 1987

  Shoulder Pads—December 1, 1988

  Comfortable Shoes—September 14, 1989

  Seize the Moment—June 25, 1991

  Brain Capacity Is Limited—July 4, 1993

  Let’s Face It, Not All Ruts Need Repair—April 17, 1996

  Tributes

  A Biography of Erma Bombeck

  Foreword

  ERMA BOMBECK PUBLISHED MORE than four thousand syndicated columns from 1965 until her death on April 22, 1996. From this extraordinary output of wit and compassion, the daunting task of selecting this collection fell to us. (We had both edited Erma’s work.) Every person who knew what we were doing recognized the impossibility of the mission but could not forbear telling us, “Oh, you can’t leave out...” Since virtually any of Erma’s millions of readers, if solicited for an opinion, would also suggest a column that couldn’t be omitted, we hope we’ve included at least a few of everyone’s favorites.

  Let us mention that we, at least, benefited from the expert guidance of Erma’s longtime secretary, Norma Born—who was able to provide us with a list of the most-requested columns—and to some extent from the guidance of Erma herself. When Erma took a vacation she always picked a group of her favorite columns to be rerun in her absence. We are happy to say that Erma had a strong vote in our selection.

  Sitting in Erma’s living room, reading her columns and laughing out loud, listening to Norma and Erma’s husband, Bill, reminiscing, we would often remark that Erma could have gotten a column (and a few laughs) out of our efforts.

  We also discovered long-forgotten gems that gave us some insight into Erma’s motivation for writing her column. Back on April 4, 1969, for instance, Erma published the following column:

  A Mrs. “R.N.” of Boston has raised a rather interesting question. “Mrs. Bombeck’s column is devoted merely to the gripes of a suburban housewife. Her infantile self-absorption is annoying. Why doesn’t she direct her writing toward a more constructive topic?”

  I’m surely glad you brought up that little thing, Mrs. R.N. You see, on a newspaper, reporters have areas they cover called “beats.” Some men cover politics, business, crime, medicine, government, radio and television, while women cover fashions, food, society.

  I cover the utility room beat.

  I used to cover obituaries, but it was a pretty thankless job. No one patted you on the back and said “Loved your lead” or sent you a Whitman’s Sampler for spelling his name right. So when the utility room beat came up I grabbed it.

  Oh, I had big plans. I was going to do columns on “A Mother Looks at Eric Sevareid,” “Would a Bake Sale Help Russia with Her U.N. Dues?” “Racist Is a Six-Letter Word (unless it’s plural, then it’s seven),” “How Political Science Has Made Me a Woman.” And I had a dandy line on a series that would blow the lid off a ring of primary teachers who were selling show-and-tell tapes as underground movies.

  It never worked out, Mrs. R.N. Somewhere between my typewriter and the editor’s office, my “constructive topics” underwent drastic surgery. “I want you to make housewives laugh,” said the editor.

  “I mean no disrespect, sir, but that’s like making me photo editor of Reader’s Digest.”

  “That’s where the challenge comes in.” He smiled. “Why, in a few years you’ll rank right up there with those other famous humorists from Ohio, Robert A. Taft and the Wright Brothers.”

  I’ve been at the helm of “Mission Impossible” for four years now. It’s a challenge. If I am consumed with my self-absorption, it is for a reason.

  Long ago it became apparent there were only two people in the world I could take a crack at in print without being sued or severely criticized: Adolf Hitler and me!

  Furthermore, I wouldn’t trade my beat for anything else on the newspaper. Sometimes as I sift through the grim, the ugly, the shocking, I recoil here between the hot water heater and the detergent and I get my perspective.

  Screaming kids, unpaid bills, green leftovers, husbands behind newspapers, basketballs in the bathroom. They’re real...they’re warm...they’re the only bit of normalcy left in this cockeyed world, and I’m going to cling to it like life itself.

  On the occasion of her twenty-fifth anniversary of writing the column, in April 1990, Erma interviewed herself. To the question, “What do you hope your column has accomplished?” she responded:

  I like to imagine that after a person has read our waters are polluted, the world is in flames, streets are crime-ridden, drugs are rampant and her horoscope predicts her sign just collided with something that will reduce her to poverty, she’ll read how the dryer returns only one sock to me from every two I put in and I tell my kids, “The other one went to live with Jesus,” and maybe smile.

  The most gratifying comment on her career, however, came at the end of a column written on March 10, 1987:

  I always had a dream that when I am asked to give an accounting of my life to a higher court, it will go like this: “So, empty your pockets. What have you got left of y
our life? Any dreams that were unfulfilled? Any unused talent that we gave you when you were born that you still have left? Any unsaid compliments or bits of love that you haven’t spread around?”

  And I will answer, “I’ve nothing to return. I spent everything you gave me. I’m as naked as the day I was born.”

  Who could have spent it better?

  Donna Martin Alan McDermott

  My deeds will be measured not by my youthful appearance, but by the concern lines on my forehead, the laugh lines around my mouth, and the chins from seeing what can be done for those smaller than me or who have fallen.

  April 17, 1996

  (from Erma Bombeck’s last column)

  Hello, Young Mothers

  Paint Tint Caper—September 4, 1965

  ONCE...JUST ONCE...I’D like to be dressed for an emergency.

  I don’t mean like my grandmother used to warn: “That is not underwear to be hit by a car in.” I mean just to be glued together, so you’re not standing in a hospital hallway in a sweatshirt (PROPERTY OF NOTRE DAME ATHLETIC DEPT.) and a pair of bedroom slippers.

  In a way, it’s almost as if fate were waging a cruel war and you’re in the middle of it. Not only are you (a) bleeding to death, (b) grimacing in pain, and (c) worried half out of your skull, you are also plagued with the fear that the nurses in East Wing C are passing the hat to adopt you and your family for Thanksgiving.

  Take our Paint Tint Caper, for example. Our small son climbed into bed with us early one morning and smiled broadly. I’m intuitive. I’m a mother. I sensed something was wrong. His teeth were blue. He had bitten into a tube of paint tint. Now if you’re visualizing some sweet, tousled-hair boy in his fire-engine pajamas, forget it. This kid looked like he was being raised by werewolves!

  In addition to his blue teeth, he was wearing a pair of training pants and his father’s old T-shirt, which caught him loosely around the ankles. This was obviously no time to be proud or to explain that I was a few years behind in the laundry. We rode like the wind to the emergency ward of the hospital, where the doctor checked over his blue teeth so calmly I thought there was something wrong with mine because they were white.

  “What kind of paint tint?” he asked clinically.

  “Sky blue,” we said shakily, pointing to the color on his T-shirt.

  “I can see that,” he said irritably. “I mean, what did it contain chemically?”

  My husband and I stared at each other. Normally, you understand, we don’t let a can of paint into the house until we’ve committed the chemical contents and their percentages to memory. This one had escaped us somehow.