Taking the Blame

I have a trait - my wife would refer to it as a fault - of generally placing the blame on other people for mishaps that I somehow have become involved in. If you ever opened a closet door and had everything fall down on top of you, then you might just be tempted to blame this on someone else. That person, who in your mind, arranged these things so they would fall on your head is the one to be blamed.  Whether it be premeditated or just a stupid random act of ignorance on their part does not matter. You must squarely look them in the eye and place the blame and so it is that I recall the biggest blame of all.

When I was in ninth grade I remember being blamed for many things. One incident however far exceeds all of the others. I was sitting in our living room after school one day and got up to go to the bathroom located on the second floor. I started up the stairs when I heard the shower running.  I yelled "who is  using the bathroom" and my mother replied "I am and I will be done in 10 minutes." I returned to the living room to wait.

The next thing I remember hearing was a loud shrill scream coming from upstairs.  I jumped to my feet and ran to the bottom of the steps. My mother yelled "Max is losing his teeth! Oh my God, Max is losing his teeth!" Sure enough Max, our black shepherd dog, was sitting at the top of the steps with teeth spurting out of his mouth all over the stairs. It was something to see. There were teeth all down the stair treads. I looked at them and immediately asked her where she put her false teeth.

On her way into the shower she put them in a pink cup that was sitting on the hamper. Yes, old Max was loosing teeth alright, but they were my mom's false teeth. He was chewing on those dentures like a prized bone. He was one happy dog.

I began to laugh. It seemed funny to me until the word blame came into the picture. I had left the door at the bottom of the stairs open. My mother yelled "its all your fault. You know Max is not allowed upstairs and you left the door open!"

Of course, I left the door open, I must be blamed. You may have heard the expression  "The gift that keeps on giving." Well I received the blame that keeps on giving. My mother had to buy new dentures and for the rest of her life all I heard was how the new teeth never fit as well as the originals. At every meal and family gathering, in front of friends and relatives, my mom would be sure to tell us that her teeth didn't fit as well as they should and it was all my fault. Mom died in 1995 some 36 years after this incident. I will close the door on this now.