“It will never work,” my grandfather, Pop, declared one particular day in my childhood. His son-in-law and my father, Chas, was placing heavy cream in a thermos-like cola maker. It belonged to my grandfather and in its normal use, a CO2cartridge acted on a cola syrup and water with delicious results. Not so, CO2on heavy cream we soon learned.
As my stern “I told you so” grandfather looked on and said, “Boy Howdy,” as he often did, the experiment exploded—up, on the ceiling. But well clabbered, I remember. Pop’s triumphal display of disapproval only intensified our laughter. We simply could not look up without collapsing into laughter. The more Pop shook his head, the louder he protested with his familiar, “Mmmmm-unn,” and the more he called for control, the less we managed it. My parents, my grandmother, her children my age, my brother, and I were conquered by surprise. What a great mistake! What a dear mess! What a hilarious sight we significant people produced. My grandfather was a character there in his all-knowing authority, but the group around him that day displayed an element ofhuman character that simply must not be squelched—laughter.
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