Hemi. What.
My father-in-law and his mother-in-law have an acrimonious relationship. To say it that way is, I think, polite but perhaps not quite accurate. But it will suffice.
I do not have time or energy for the backstory, so please just take it on good faith that there is a backstory and that they do not always see eye to eye and that both of them like to be in the know and in the right. Or at least to seem that way.
This past Thanksgiving, over a remarkably calm and delicious dinner, Grandmother (the mother-in-law of my father-in-law) took the conversation into a new direction: “I just love that little boy in those new car commercials.” She and my wife discussed the merits of the Dodge Durango ad campaign and remarked that the boy in one of them looks to them a bit like my son. There is talk about the humor in the commercials, especially the father’s command to his son: “Son, there is only one thing you need to know about this car: Hemi. Can you say Hemi?”
We all laughed.
“And what,” Grandmother continued, “is a hemi? Just what is that?”
My father-in-law does not look up from his meal. He speaks as though to his wine glass, saying between bites that it is a particular kind of head within the engine block that makes the engine more powerful. He gives details, talks about pistons and parts with the same tone and manner as a the afternoon news anchor.
I am impressed by his knowledge. So is the rest of the table, and converstation moves on.
Later that night, after she has gone home, he laughs out loud at nothing. “What is so funny,” we ask.
“Hemi.”
“What?”
“Hemi.” He says again. “I have no idea what a Hemi is.”
