Goofy Dad Stories (11) – The Danger of Elastic Waistbands

Goofy Dad Stories (11) – The Danger of Elastic Waistbands.

This story goes way back, to when I was a mere lad of four. So, it’s ancient history, 64 years ago and counting. But it’s still funny. We were of course living in Rockford, Illinois. My parents had many friends from church, and often invited over to our house a large group of acquaintances to enjoy some coffee, Swedish coffee bread, and innocent conversation.

This particular coffee party evidently included a wide variety of church people, young people, middle-aged people, and quite a few elderly as well. My dad liked to play the host and serve coffee and finger food to everyone, along with mom. One time, during this party, he emerged from the kitchen with a tray full of coffee cups, brimming with hot coffee. The tray was full, and so were the coffee cups, so he needed both hands to carefully hold the tray as he entered the living room. As he stood there holding the tray and serving people, I had some burning question on my mind, so I approached him to ask something or other. Because he was busy serving coffee, he apparently didn’t hear me, or perhaps he did hear me but was hoping I would give up, stop bugging him, and go ask mom or someone else. Well, that wasn’t acceptable to my four year old mind, so I began tugging on his pants to get his attention. He continued ignoring me, and I continued tugging his pants.

Well, as fate had it, I didn’t realize that my dad was wearing pants with an elastic waistband, and no belt. His pants were not very secure, and didn’t hug his hips as usually desired. I finally tugged so hard that his pants fell quickly down to his ankles. He was standing there, holding a tray full of hot coffee with both hands, with his pants to his ankles, while many men and women stood staring at his predicament. My dad didn’t know what to do, since his hands were otherwise occupied. So he just stood there for a few minutes, everyone noting the kinds of boxers he was wearing. There was, as expected, an eruption of laughter, a volcano of hilarity, all at my dad’s expense. Everyone fought to see this great thing that has come to pass, with a strong desire to see it with their own eyes. To say that my humble, righteous, self-effacing dad was a bit embarrassed would be traditional Swedish understatement. His face must have been priceless.

Eventually someone, probably my mom, came to the rescue and took the tray from my dad so he could pull his pants back up. This story is part of Larson lore, of course. And no one at the party ever let my dad forget it. It’s amazing what parents have to put up with when it comes to raising children.