3/16/03
According to the official Kiwanis Web site, the name "Kiwanis" was adapted from the expression "Nunc Kee-wanis" in the Otchipew (Native American) language, meaning "We have a good time," "We make a noise," or, under another construction, "We trade or advertise." Some persons prefer to pronounce the word "ki"; others, "kee."
What that has to do with pancakes, I'm not sure but yesterday morning Deb, Allie and I went to the high school and ate pancakes prepared by a bunch of Kiwanees.
I have to admit I was a little uneasy about having breakfast with the Kiwanees. Ever since I found out about the really freaky initiation rights of the Masons, I'm leery of organizations like the Kiwanis, the Lions, the Jaycees, the Elks, Moose, Eagles or any other animal that could possibly have a secret handshake. I'm not saying that I expected to be taken into a dark room full of hooded men, paddled and forced to waddle with a raw egg between the cheeks of my butt before I could accept my plate of pancakes. But I was listening for some sort of coded message from every Kiwanis Member I spoke with. I knew they'd ask something to separate the initiated (the true Kiwanis faithful) from rest of us. Then they'd pull out the really good pancakes from the secret Kiwanis Members Only stash under the table. Maybe that's why when the lady asked me if I wanted milk or juice I immediately shot back, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She didn't deserve that.
After all, I was paying five dollars per adult. Kids eat free. So for ten bucks we got all the pancakes, sausages, apple sauce, frozen strawberries, milk, juice or coffee that we wanted. If that weren't enough, there was entertainment (a piano and cello recital) along with face painting for the kids. They even heated the bottles of syrup and rotated each table's supply before the stuff had a chance to cool to room temperature. What's more, you didn't even need to return to the serving line to get more food. The cafetorium was swarming with Boy Scouts who would come around with plates of steaming flapjacks and sausages.
I embarrassed myself by using my fingers to grab more pancakes from a plate being held in front of me by one of the Boy Scouts Deb chided me for not allowing the young scout to use his tongs to place the food on our plates. Apparently the guy wasn't moving fast enough for me so I thought I'd be helpful and grab the food myself. Unfortunately the pancake I chose was clinging to two other big pancakes. At that moment I confirmed the suspicion among our fellow pancake breakfasters that I was a big pig by greedily using my fingers. The part that really looked bad was that it seemed that I practically emptied out the Boy Scout's plate in a single, swift wave of my hand.
In order to deflect the disapproving glares I just know I was getting from the Kiwanis Sergeant at Arms (who I imagine was probably standing right behind me, arms crossed, ready to rough me up right there in front of my family) I shook the extra pancakes on to my wife's plate then my daughter's. I kept one for myself. I thought this move might have helped a bit until the Boy Scout with the plate of sausages showed up right behind the Pancake Scout. I really wanted two more sausages but, considering my behavior with the pancakes, I only took one sausage.
I mean, coming to this thing was my way of demonstrating that I am ready to really get to know the people in my town. I'd already shamed myself in front of my neighbors by grabbing food away from a Boy Scout like a crazed, half-starved baboon in the produce section of a supermarket. I was blowing my chance to erase the jackass reputation I had built for myself in my last home town. A single sausage was a small price to pay.
It wasn't like I was doing this for people that didn't have an impact on our lives. Our insurance guy was there, eating pancakes with his daughters. There was a man there that Allie said looked like her Papa. There was a polite young man (Jr. Kiwanis Brigade?) who asked us all for applause after the pianist and cellist completed their numbers. There were familiar faces all over the place and I knew I would impress them all with my act of single sausage restraint.
Yeah, right. Whatever...
It didn't all go badly. Allie got her face painted. She sat down and asked for a dinosaur. The girl painting faces created a green blob with black eyes and a smile right there on my kid's cheek. It wasn't immediately recognizable, but after staring at it for 10-15 seconds I couldn't see anything but a well-crafted dinosaur. It must have been good. Allie went back a few minutes later to have the other cheek T-Rexed. Both dinosaurs stayed on her face until her bath later that evening.
Today was beautiful. I walked to the park with Allie and flew our kite. A couple of our neighbors showed up and watched Allie and me fly the kite. We talked. In case people had been talking about the guy that grabbed a couple dozen pancakes all at once at the high school that morning, I didn't mention where we had breakfast.