In my quest to become a better writer, explore my creative side and channel a mid-life crisis, I have enrolled in a number of writing classes taught by established Chicago Writers. I feel like such a grown-up when I leave work in the suburbs and travel into the city for an evening class after work.
Sometimes, if traffic allows, I can even sit in a café and have a bite to eat before class. Stretching my mind, getting out of my comfort zone and trying new adventures have become very important to me these past couple of years.
Some classes are better than others. Some instructors are super inspiring. Some instructors sort of just phone it in. I am OK with it ALL. I always learn something, even if it is, just, what not to do!
One particular class was Humorous Writing. Which I find extremely difficult. Did you ever notice there are substantially fewer funny books than serious ones? Humor is something that I have found, in life, helps me a great deal.
So, I was excited to dig in and find my funny! One of the assignments was to take an ordinary event and exaggerate the circumstances. Since I am trying to create and collect memoir style essays, I choose to write about the “the stages of my marriage as seen through the making of Apple Pies.”
The following is what I turned in, but you’ll never believe what happened after the class critiqued it.
Apple Pie
I have been married to the same man since May of 1987. We’ve known each other since the Spring of 1985. That is a LONG fucking time! The years have flown by. We have done many things together: raised 3 children, owned 2 homes, loved 2 dogs, cooked many meals, raked lots of leaves, traveled to many parts of the world, bought countless cars, lived through many of life’s dramas and tragedies, and mostly laughed our way through our life together.
How I prepare his favorite dessert is a direct reflection on our relationship stages.
Years Zero–Three: Apple Pie from Scratch
My husband is not a sweets guy. He heads for Fritos if he wants a snack. But he is a sucker for an Apple Pie. In the first years of our courtship and early marriage, I was “SO in LOVE.” Gaga for the young, blond haired, blue-eyed engineering ROTC guy. I painstakingly learned how to make his favorite dessert by hand, from scratch.
I pealed hand-picked apples from the Farmer’s Market. Mastered pastry crust through trial and error.
And the spices were bought at the fancy-ass spice shop–No McComick’s grocery store jars for my LOVE.
This routine lasted a few years.
He was presented with a homemade Apple Pie about every 6 weeks or so. My enthusiasm for the effort it took to create the dessert started to wane when our children arrived.
Years Four–Eight: Apple Pie Made with a Store-Bought Crust
We decided to have our children in quick succession. Three children conceived and birthed in 4 ½ years. When you are 24, and think you want a big family, this thought process seems sound.
By age 28, after being immersed in all that raising three children under the age of four requires, the large family idea is thrown out the window and corners need to be cut
The frequency with which my husband was treated to an Apple Pie dropped to a quarterly dessert.
I ditched the homemade crust.
The apples were still peeled and sliced by hand and the eight-year-old spices from the Spice shop were employed in making the pie.
I wish I could report that once the kids were in school and I had a bit more time, I went back to “SCRATCH!”
BUT alas, that was not the case.
Years Nine–Fifteen: Apple Pie Made with BOTH Store-Bought Crust and Filling. I like to think we were the kind of parents that prepared our kids in the basic essentials of life: Pick-up after yourself. Be Kind. Always put the toilet-seat and cover down after use. Being generous and thoughtful is always appreciated. AND when you cook, try to prepare tasty food in a short period of time so you can enjoy the company of the meal instead of the work that goes with it.
My hubby’s apple pie treats have now dwindled to twice a year: one is his birthday- of course! The other is some other random day when I remembered to follow the generous, thoughtful rule.
Years Sixteen–Twenty-Five: Frozen Pie-Baked at Home
There is quite a large variety of pies to be found in the grocery store’s frozen section. The high fat content DOES correlate to good taste!
AND the pies are usually housed right next to the Ice Cream. Really, apple pie is not complete unless there is a dollop of Vanilla Ice Cream on top!
When brought home from the store and baked in the oven, the house still smells like a home-made pie is going to be served!
At this point in our marriage I started back to work. I had always worked little jobs while the kids were young: Part-time retail, childcare, YMCA fitness instructor.
I needed to get back to Career work. Mainly for the Career Money.
I earned my BS in Elementary Education way back when, which did and has served me well. It’s especially convenient when raising a family of school age children. I was mostly on the same schedule as our kids.
So, I went back to full-time teaching and Apple-Piedom was definitely shelved.
I believe I adhered to the quarterly Apple Pie treat, but I can’t be certain of that.
Years Twenty-Six–Thirty-Five: Bakery Bought Apple Pie
Kids are grown, gone and on their own adult adventures. Retirement for both me and my husband is on the horizon. I call five to ten years close to a horizon, don’t you?
This time in our lives has afforded us both time and a little extra money. WELL really not A LOT of extra money. Kids are expensive.
We tend to eat out way more than we eat in. So, the Apple Pie thing happens if we are out and a bakery is selling Apple Pies.
Years Thirty-Six plus: Future Apple Pies
Make, bake or buy your own DAMN Pie.
In this particular class, like many classes I have taken, you turn a piece into your classmates prior to class. Then a good portion of class is spent on critiquing to help the writer with revisions. To get the writing piece closer to publication or maybe just readable.
On the night of the critique, my essay was discussed second to last. The previous pieces were torn apart. A bit harshly to my liking, BUT we are all adults. We should have thick skin by now.
No one was mean about their comments, I just noticed that the crowd was HARD to please!
The process began with the teacher throwing it out to the class. “Thoughts, on UH–the Apple Pie piece. What do you think?”
Silence.
Like REAL silence.
If we were in the wild the crickets would be chirping.
HUM, I was thinking. I know the piece is not perfect. It was in my head for a while and maybe I needed to edit a bit. BUT someone could maybe find something, either good or bad, to say about the piece?
Finally, a 20-something spoke-up. “I know we are not supposed to say the piece is relatable, but when you stated that, ’35 years was a FUCKING long time.’ I really could understand that,” he said. The class chuckled.
A little aside here: I have noticed these evening writing classes consist of either 20 somethings or over 50-year-old women. I guess men are not interested so much in wanting to write or improve their writing. AND 30 and 40-year-olds are too busy with their lives to take classes?!
The next comment came from a 50ish woman. “It is OBVIOUS, that the Apple Pie is a metaphor for sex/SEX,” she offered.
“Hold on there,” chided the teacher, “That of course is true, but we are not here to point out the obvious.”
At this point the teacher stopped the class discussion and asked me, “So what was your intent with this piece?”
WAIT. WHAT?!
My ultra-Catholic upbringing heart started to race.
Did I hear both the 54 year- old male teacher (at some point in the class he had commented on his age) and the 50-something woman sitting across from me, correctly?
How is it possible that my innocent Apple Pie piece could be construed in any other way than the innocent piece that it was? NO! The Apple Pie is not a metaphor for anything. In what world does Apple Pie equate to SEX?
I stammered and probably got really red in the face. “I-I-I, well the piece is about how life goes by and year after year you do certain things and then you change it to make life easier and then you just don’t want to do it any more…”
I kept trying to dig myself out of the uncomfortable situation I found myself in. Suddenly, all of my explanations of this essay, which I were recklessly spewing from my mouth, were ALL Freudian slips and/or Sexual Innuendos. FUCK.
So maybe, the writer’s workshop is just one big mid-life crisis for all involved. My innocent little Apple Pie piece was perceived as much more insightful into my sexual being than even I knew I was capable of?!
Maybe I need to do more research into Freud and the psychology of what we write about? Maybe I need to delve into my relationship with my husband? OR maybe I need to just go back to making, baking or buying and then eating, of course, Apple Pie with WILD abandonment?!
With Ice Cream NOT Whip Cream.
This story is a gem. Keep writing Lucy Dallman! You are a genius!
I like the wild abandonment idea!
I loved this………and I did not see the sex metaphor. Loved picturing the changing apples pies with kids and chaos Over the years. Keep writing Lucy, this is funny!
Had absolutely no thought of sex when I read this. But, maybe that is a result of my own life…lol. Loved the story, Lucy. Definitely ice cream and more stories, please!!!!
This is hilarious! I too need to bake more, especially during this time.