Hot Dogs in the Real World

By Kathy Luder

My cousin Eric graduated from high school last week. After the ceremony we were all in his backyard drinking Cokes and eating hot dogs, while the adults fussed over how much better everything tastes outside and how good a cook my uncle is. For my part, I don’t count dogs covered with charcoal dust as good eating, and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve had better meals in the school cafeteria. But such are the things that divide adults and us. Maybe when we are in our 40’s picnics will make sense.

Anyway, me and my cousins were all hanging out near the volleyball net, within reach of the forbidden keg, when our uncle Joe came up and slapped Eric on the back hard enough to knock him off balance. Along with spittle and pieces of potato chips coming out of his mouth, came the predictable, “Now you enter the real world! Har, har, har - belch!” And off he went to the keg, tucking his shirt back into his pants. Tucking his shirt is a constant habit of Uncle Joe’s because his poor shirts are assigned the impossible task of both covering a Santa belly and staying tucked in. Eric blushed and smiled at the jarring and the comment. We all nodded sympathetically, not because Eric was entering the “real world,” but because that particular uncle has a way of making you feel small, and we’d all been there before.

Uncle Joe really dislikes Lutheran schools, and especially the Lutheran High School. He is always telling us that we need a real education, which can only be found in the “school of hard knocks.” And while we might be book-smart and know a lot of Bible stories and things about Martin Luther, what we really need is “street smarts,” so that we can survive in the “real world.” He is forever complaining about all the damage being inflicted upon us because our parents are foolishly “sheltering”us and none of us are as tough as we need to be.

Now, I’ll admit being “sheltered” can be pretty annoying. I’d like to stay up later, have a little more freedom in going and staying out, and perhaps be allowed more than a sip from the keg. But when I see what my cousin Laura, Uncle Joe’s daughter, gets away with it, it doesn’t so much make me jealous, as thankful. I’m not saying I like all the rules I have to live by or that they are necessarily fair. Mostly, they make me mad and I wish that my parents would loosen up. But I know the trouble Laura is getting into, most of which her Dad doesn’t know about. And I think it could be avoided if she had a few rules. Even though it is pretty maddening when my parents try to protect me from every possible thing in the world, I can’t really blame them for wanting to. After all, isn’t that their job? Does Uncle Joe really think it is right to throw children to the wolves? Wouldn’t that just make them lunch? Or if they did somehow survive it, wouldn’t that make them into killing wolves? Is that what he wants us to be?

Despite Uncle Joe’s tormenting, I think Eric will be okay. In fact, I think that he will be okay because of the sheltering he enjoyed from my aunt and uncle. I think he is more prepared for the “real world” than Uncle Joe gives him credit for. I think it is good that he knows something of right and wrong, has had teachers that prayed with him, wants to help people and be nice, is forgiven in Jesus Christ, and knows that Uncle Joe’s “real world” is only temporary. Eric complains, from time to time, about his mom and dad, but I can see that they are actually quite reasonable, unlike mine. And while I don’t know if I am quite ready to thank my parents for the sheltering they have done for me, I am glad that in their own dorky way they love, care about, and protect me. It may not appease Uncle Joe any, but my world, Lutheran school and all, feels pretty real and I am thankful that God has provided a safe place for me, even if I have to wait to drink beer, which I could most certainly handle.

Kathy Luder abides in the imaginary town of Middleville somewhere in the Midwest. She belongs to Middle of the Road Lutheran Church and attends Thricebent Lutheran High School and Insurance Agency, where all the napkins and paper cups have broken heart logos and the students vote for student council members from other towns whom they’ve never met. She imagines herself quite stunning and extraordinarily clever but, alas, no photo is available. In fact, no photo exists.