BEFORE we finish up with Spry, I thought we could recount another story from "Aunt Jenny's Favorite Recipes, Sins, and Scandals." This one is about Aunt Jenny herself, and her husband Cal. We call it
Sprys of Our Lives
Yes, this is Jenny and Cal on their honeymoon, c. 1910. Jenny, as you can from the photo, was an attractive young woman back then, while Cal was Charlie Chaplin. It was obviously a passionate relationship, since Jenny has her hand on Cal's crotch, even with the photographer right there. But somewhere the magic went out of this relationship. Let's hear both of their accounts of what went wrong, and answer the question: Can This Marriage Be Saved.
Cal's Story
When I first met Jenny, I was a travelin' salesman. She was a farmer's daughter. You've heard the story a thousand times before. Anyways, after a shotgun marriage we set up housekeepin' in Littleton. Everything was okay when we first started out. I'd spend a week on the road, supplyin' Spry to various emporiums and feed stores around the state, and then I'd come home and Jenny would welcome me with something hot . . . and it wouldn't be Halibut With Cheese Sauce! She was a lusty wench, my Jenny, and if she'd had her way, I never would have left the bedroom while I was home. But you know, a man just needs a break sometimes, and there ARE other things to do besides foolin' around -- like listenin' to "Little Orphan Annie" on the radio, and collectin' rocks, and, you know, fun stuff.
So, after I come home once and just wanted to eat a decent dinner in peace and then do some whittlin', Jenny started a bawlin' and told me that I loved Spry more than her. Which is just plan silly, 'cause I just supply the stuff to merchants--I don't care for it at all, personally. But then, I been to the factory, and that can set a body against the stuff, if he don't care for the smell of whale blubber. But I do like bein' on the road, where a man can just, you know, think. And not have to please a woman all the time.
Anyways, when I went to bed that night, it was to find Jenny covered in a light coat of Triple-Creamed Spry. And I have to admit, it was mighty fine. Jenny was all soft and creamy, and smooth and white--or maybe that was just the Spry. Anyway, it was good for both of us. But that was the start of Jenny's fixation.
When I came home the next week, it was to find the kitchen full of pies. Apple pie. Prune pie. Mellowscotch pie (Jennie may CLAIM that I said the fillin's as smooth as a kitten's ear, but what I really said was "Jenny, no matter how tender the crust is, you can NOT use a kitten as fillin'--what would the neighbors say!").
It was nice at first. Lots of food. Jenny not botherin' me, so's I had time to play checkers with Fred Cooper the mailman, or to work on my bottle-top collection. But after I while, I get to feelin' frisky, and I asked Jenny if maybe she wanted to get greased up and play "Travelin' Salesman and Spry-Coated French Prostitute," but she said that she had some fryin' to do...and that became the pattern of our lives. Her preparin' metric tons of food we never ate and pretendin' I was as excited about it as her, and me findin' comfort somewhere else -- at the picture shows, watching cowboy movies.
Jenny's Story
I met Cal when I was 17. He looked so dashin' then, what with his black mustache and his sideburns. I thought he was just like an Arab Sheik from one of those naughty books I read under the covers when everybody was asleep.
We fell madly in love, and after a whirlwind courtship of a couple of weeks, we up an' married. I thought that after we were hitched, Cal would quit his travelin job and find something here in town, 'cause he'd want to spend more time with me. But no, he seemed to LIKE gettin' away from me. And what was I supposed to do all week while he was gone? I joined all the ladies societies. I crocheted doilies until they was there layers deep in the parlor. I meddled in the lives of my friends and neighbors. But these activities couldn't fill the void in my heart. Well, the meddlin' was okay, but I don't much care for crochetin'.
And even worse, when Cal did come home, he never wanted to do his marital duty. He claimed to be "too tired," or "too busy," or "in the middle of an excitin' Orphan Annie adventure." And after while, it got to makin' me feel undesirable as a woman.
There was one night when I coated me up with the shortenin', and Cal seemed pretty excited. That was right nice for me too. And that week, while Cal was away, I read the Spry can and learned it could be used for other things. Like cookin'. So, I tried one of the receipts on the can (Blackberry Tuckaway, it was), and it turned out mighty good. In fact, Fred Cooper came by with the mail right after I took the cobbler out of the oven, and he said somethin' sure smelled good. So, I offered him some, and he said that it was the best he's ever had. And I felt, you know, WOMANLY again.
So, while Cal was off, doin' whatever he did, I would cook. Pies, cakes, french fries, meat -- all the stuff men like. And sure enough, the menfolk in town would all stop by my kitchen. And I'd feed them, and they'd rave about my tender fried chicken thighs and my moist dumplings, and I'd feel good. And after while, the women in town started noticin' that their men were hangin' around my kitchen, and so they started comin' by, claimin' they wanted my cake receipts or help with their biscuits, but I knew the bitches were just jealous. So, I'd always mess up the recipes, so they couldn't duplicate my cookin', and their men would keep comin' by to see me.
Yup, I was ready to offer a hot meal to any man in town: Jed Hopkins, the one-eyed farm hand, Lou Braegger, the town drunk, and those hobos who love my Magic Meat Pie. And their words of praise would make me tingle -- even Grandpa Briggs, up at the Old Soldiers Home, and he's gotta be 80 if he's a day. But when I felt something stirrin' inside when little Elmer told me he wished his Mom would make cookie but SHE said they were too much work, I knew I needed help and told Cal we needed to see a therapist.
The Therapist's Story
After hearing both Cal and Jenny talk, it became obvious that had radically different ideas about what marriage entailed -- and over the years, they had never talked about this. Jenny, a highly sexed woman, needed to feel desired. And when Cal couldn't give her the physical intimicies she wanted, she sublimated her sexual desires into cooking. And when her cuisine brought her attention from other men, she didn't need Cal anymore.
Jenny pretended to others that Cal too raved over her Swiss Steak and admired her Silver Sauce, but the truth was that Cal couldn't interest himself in her cooking anymore than he could have a normal sexual relationship with a woman. Cal really WAS like a little boy, like Jenny said once. While he was capable of being aroused by a woman (their limited sexual experimentation was what led to their ill-advised marriage, after Jenny's father found out about it), he was basically not interested in sex, preferring to spend his time on his own, more juvenile pursuits, like movies and collecting things. He saw Jenny as a mother figure (her white hair and matronly frame -- even though she was just in her 40's -- did make this almost inevitable), and while he didn't want to sleep with her, he did want to feel like she cared for him. It hurt him that her only interest was cooking, and she didn't want to share any of his activities with him.
I advised Cal to fake some enthusiasm for her cooking, speculating that even false praise from Cal would be enough to get her to reciprocate interest in Cal's life and go to a Red Ryder movie with him occasionally. I got a card from Jenny later, showing Cal with an incredibly fake expression of glee on his face while Jenny sets a strawberry shortcake the size of a hubcap before him. But she seemed to have taken his admiration as genuine, as she said to me, "Here's Calvin gloatin' over one of my strawberry shortcakes. My, but he IS fond of 'em." So, I guess my advice to Cal worked, and was able to feel somewhat included in his wife's life, at little cost to him.
And I told Jenny to have an affair with Fred the mailman. It would help her to avoid going to excesses with her cooking, and would also allow her to take some of the pressure off Cal, so they could continue to maintain their sham of a marriage. Which I thought they should do, for the sake of the Spry.
1:09:11 AM
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