My mother took great pride in our modest apartment. It was always neat and orderly and immaculately clean. An old uncle passed away and my family came into a little extra money. He had passed with a penny insurance policy he had had for a gazillion years. It covered his funeral with a little left over. My father told my mother to spend it. He didn't want "blood money". My mother decided to replace our rather worn living room furniture. The furniture did not have to be new, but it had to be better. My mother picked out a living room ensemble and was waiting for my dad to put the seal of approval on it before purchase.
In the meantime, my father had a friend who was moving and selling his furniture. Without consulting my mother, he purchased his ugly bachelor furniture for a song. On the appointed day the "new" furniture was moved into our apartment. My mother was sorely disappointed and in a rare display let my father know she was not happy. My father stubbornly defended his action and since he was the breadwinner, he suffered under the illusion that he ruled the roost. My mother and her mother-in-law were good friends. Mom complained to Grandma Florence who was appalled at her son's action and disregard for his wife's feelings on the matter.
My father's mother was a tiny, fragile little woman. She claimed to be five feet tall, but she reached that towering height by wearing what were known as Cuban heels. She told my mother they would team up and do something drastic to make him pay attention. This was completely out of character for mild-mannered Mom. Grandma went to the roof of the apartment building and pulled down the fire ax. My grandmother and my mother chopped at the offending furniture until it was no longer usable.
Grandma stuck around until my father came home. My mother told him they would be going to get the furniture she wanted that evening. When my father saw the mess in the living room he roared like a lion. My dad was 6'2" tall, formidable in his policeman's uniform and spitting mad. His pixie sized mom drew herself up to her almost five feet and pointed her finger at his chest. She told him, in no uncertain terms, no son of her's would be so inconsiderate of his wife. And just like that, I watched that stubborn, mountain of a man melt as the error of his folly dawned on him. His answer was short and sweet. "Yes, mam".
Like all children, I hated when my parents were at odds. However, like every other disagreement they ever had, there was a happy ending. The four of us went out to buy the new furniture, ate dinner at the Chinese restaurant and went to the movies, afterall, there was no place to sit at home. It was better than a holiday.
