Don't Be Funny, DADDY!

In Don’t Be Funny, Daddy!, you’ll read how we loved to spread salt through our hair when we were young, and that I might even start doing it again to fall asleep; and how no matter what good care I took of my vaccination scab, I still almost turned into a duck ( and probably a dead duck at that); and how if it were not for Wicka, I’d probably be picking oranges in Orangedale as we speak. You’ll also read what rollicking side-splitting laughs we had while Pa and Blanche were trying to put in the grates. There are a lot more stories in the childhood section, but suddenly I’m a big boy again. You’ll be awestruck about how I almost went to British Columbia with Lou Diamond Phillips. And you’ll agree with me when you read that I really need a detective when Rhoda goes on vacation, just to track down the milk bones. And you’ll thrill with me when you read how I almost `ecame an instant millionaire until I said “cheese”. Then you’ll scratch with me when you read that no one appreciates a model, even when he has on glistening shoes. There are a lot more stories in the adult section, even one about the dummies, but my arm is getting tired from writing all this. Let’s see how many books you’ll be writing when you’re pushing eighty!

(Excerpt) I'm a Big Boy, Now

I'm back again all grown up. It's amazing how I have been able to bounce back and forth from childhood to adult in my last three books, and I don't have a bruise on me. When I wrote my first book, BREAD AND MOLASSES, Diefenbakker was in power, so being a staunch Conservative like Pa, I sent him a copy of the book. A few weeks later, he was visiting Amherst, Nova Scotia during a Conservative rally, so I drove over to see the excitement. He was in his late seventies at this time, with quite a bad shake, and as I stood in line to shake his hand, I whispered in his ear, Andy MacDonald, BREAD AND MOLASSES, thinking it might jog his memory about my book. Looking me straight in the eye and nodding politely, he said in a quivering voice, "How do you do, Mr. Molasses."

Now I don't always make such an impression on famous people. And famous people don't always make much of an impression on me. Take last summer for instance. I was at the Big Stop in Aulac. I had just gotten out of my van full of dummies (I never leave home without them) and was having a coffee in the restaurant, when a man at the counter with long hair began looking at me and smiling. After a while he approached my booth and said, "You must be Andy." He had seen the signs on my van and was quite taken with my dummies and their captions. I told him I was Andy and he said, "Hi there. I'm Lou Diamond Phillips."

Now you might know who Lou Diamond Phillips is, but a year later I still can't get his name right. At that moment, I had never heard of Lou Diamond Phillips in my life, he could have been a lumberjack from Newfoundland. So not realizing his star status as a biggie from Hollywood, I joked with him for about a half hour or so; and then he invited me to join him and his crew on a large bus that was parked outside. Once on the bus, I was on a roll and I had them all hooting and hollering for about an hour. They bought all four of my books, and wanted me to accompany them across Canada en route to British Columbia. But for all I knew they could have been murderers, kidnappers even, and I was kind of happy to get off their bus with my life. Lou Diamond hated to see me go and hugged me and kept waving at me as I walked back to the restaurant, just as a young girl sped past me screaming, "My God, that's Lou Diamond Phillips.", and just as Mr. Phillip’s bus pulled slowly out onto the TransCanada. Turning I ran back to the girl saying, "Who in hell is Lou Diamond Phillips ." She told me he was a big movie star from Hollywood and was touring with his band across Canada. I felt like rushing out onto the highway and chasing the bus, screeching, "Take me with you. Take me with you. I'm ready for the big time. I'll even sing with you in your band." But it was too late, too late. I'd blown my big chance. It's probably all for the best that I didn't know who he was, because had I known I was in the presence of a movie star, I would probably have lost my voice completely in a volley of stuttering gibberish and topped it off by throwing up on his shoes.

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