Monday, December 13, 2010

Strange Occurences and Tales of Corn

This is a story that I just have to tell.

When Ian and I were little, everyone tried to make us eat corn. Corn from a can. It was gross (and still is), so we threw tantrums, cried, and pushed the piles of corn around on our plates. We sat at the table for an extra hour sometimes, whining and complaining, and I gagged on every single bite. For a few months, we lived with our aunt and uncle, and they would get frustrated with us for not eating our corn. Our uncle would sing songs about corn. It was understood by all: Ian and Lauren do not like corn. It was something that Ian and I bonded over.

One day when I was twelve or so, I was at a barbecue at my aunt and uncle's house. Aunt Mary said, "Lauren, why don't you try corn on the cob?" She explained that it was very different from canned corn, was buttered and salted, and much tastier. I tried it. I liked it. I told Ian of this new discovery, thinking he'd want to try it out too. Maybe we'd both have a new Pro-Corn lease on life. Nope. He was not pleased. "You betrayed us, Lauren! You were 'The Gag'." Suddenly, my Good Fellasesque gangster name in our Anti-Corn Gang no longer held true. I had let down my Anti-Corn partner. Over the years, anytime someone would bring up the word "Corn", Ian would give me a stare down. He'd shake his head, ever-so-subtly and mutter "traitor" under his breath.

A few months after Ian died, I was working at a restaurant, and was about to deliver a pizza to a table. It was a cheese pizza, but I noticed a piece of corn on the side of the plate. I quickly brushed it off, as these things happened sometimes. A week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting on the side of a plate of a Chinese chicken salad. Again, I removed it. Another week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting inside a single scoop of plain vanilla ice cream. As I walked the ice cream (corn removed) over to a table, I thought, "Ian, you sly dog." I smiled, and carried on. This started happening every so often. I would find a single piece of corn in a salad, a cup of pea soup; in food where it did not belong. Every time, just one piece. I eventually started a jar of my corn collections, and it currently contains two pieces, although there were probably at least 10 other times that it happened. It's been awhile, and I started wondering if I would find another corn sign again. Another "hello" from my big brother Ian.

Last week, I was packing for a trip to Nashville, and Ian was on my mind all night. I sat and ate some leftover pizza, and again I wondered if he'd drop me a little sign to say hello. I even checked my pizza, lifting up the cheese while laughing, knowing I'd find nothing. Two hours later, I was cleaning and listening to Pandora. I had Beyonce radio on, and suddenly, a metal song started playing. I stood there in confusion, wondering what the HELL this metal song was doing on Beyonce radio. I also thought, "Is Ian playing some silly trick?" As I changed the song, I noticed the band: Korn. A smile spread across my face and I said out loud, "Well hello Ian!" I excitedly told a few people, and then felt the need to double check - was that really what I saw? Was Korn just playing on Beyonce radio? I remembered what the album cover looked like, so I looked up "Korn albums". I found it, and gasped when I saw the title of the album: See You on the Other Side.

Hello, Ian. Thanks for the Korn.
Love,
"The Gag"