MEETING THE PARENTS
                             BY Carol Edmunds

     I was 19, a freshman.  My first boyfriend, John, a senior
     was taking me to the family farm to meet his parents.  He
     rarely spoke of them although once he said his father was
     "dictatorial."

     Thursa, his mother was leaving when we arrived.  "I work
     nights dear, you'll have my room at night, I'll have it by
     day."  His father Walter barged in, leering.  A big man with
     a farmer tan, missing every other tooth, the remaining ones
     capped in gold, his mouth full of tobacco.  "Spin around so
     I can getta good look at ya."  I realized I couldn't show
     weakness to this man.  I come from Cossacks.  We've survived
     famine, Stalin, and the Siberian gulag.  Walter shouldn't be
     a problem.  "I said spin around."  Slowly I twirled.  Facing
     him I put my fingers in the corners of my mouth and exposed
     my teeth.  Removing my fingers I said "I have all my own
     teeth."  Silence, then guffaws.  "Spunky."

     That evening he boasted about the careers he had dabbled in
     before becoming a farmer--brain and heart surgeon,
     astronaut.  A real blowhard.  Walter's dog, a chihuahua
     began humping his ankle.  "Horny little SOB."  He flung the
     dog across the room.

     That night I was awakened by someone coming into my room.
     Walter was trying to climb into the bed.  "Just coming to
     tickle Thursa."  "You know damn well she's at work.  Get
     out!"  He continued to climb onto the bed.  "I'm going to go
     vocal."  I said.  "I'll yell so loud your eardrums will
     burst and the windows will shatter."  He backed out the
     door.  I pushed a small dresser in front of the door and
     went back to bed.

     John said he had to spend the day helping his dad and would
     I fix some hot dogs for lunch for them and two seasonal
     workers.  The workers pointed at me and laughed, speaking
     Spanish.  Walter must have boasted about his visit.  I
     glared.  The room went silent.  That night I moved the
     dresser again.

     Sunday morning Thursa came home from work, rushed around the
     kitchen making dinner, put it in the oven and turned to go
     to bed.  Before leaving the kitchen she said "Good bye dear.
     I'm glad Johnny found a nice girlfriend."

     At dinner Walter grabbed a piece of bread, mopped up gravy
     with it, then used it to pick up a piece of meat and
     inserted the dripping mess into his mouth.  "Are you plain
     folk or fancy folk?"  He sneered.  I picked up my fork and
     stared at it.  "Plain or fancy?  Which is it?"  "Well," I
     said.  "I eat with silverware."