Sibling Assignment #54: Yeeeeeeeeees?!

Silver Valley Girl gave the Sibling Assignment this week. "All this snow around here reminds me of the last time I lived here and there was this much snow in Kellogg, and that was when I was five-years-old. Think back to when you were five, and share some memories from when you were five-years-old."

If you want to indulge yourself in one of the sweetest cookie recipes in the whole world, read and copy the recipe at InlandEmpireGirl's post here and if you want to read about the kindergarten days of Silver Valley Girl, go here.


Too often when my siblings assign me to write about things from the past, I gravitate toward the dark and unhappy.

I've thought about some things that happened when I was five that linger in my memory as painful, embarrassing, or frightening.

But, screw it. I'm going to turn the other way. I have happy memories from when I was five, too.

I'm thinking.

I can come up with one.

I know I can.

Dad loved "The Jack Benny Show" and, when I was five years old, I did, too.

One routine in that show made Dad laugh until he nearly broke the springs in his TV chair.

It always featured the actor Frank Nelson. Jack would be on some adventure. Maybe he needed some money so he went into a deep underground world where his safe was guarded by a moat and alligators; or maybe he was traveling and was staying at a (cheap) hotel; or maybe he was at a social gathering and his hat had been lost at the hat check booth.

Whatever the situation, he would come to his safe or ask the hotel clerk for help or try to find his hat and the person there to help him would always have his back turned or would be bent down looking for something on the floor and when Jack got his attention, it was always Frank Nelson and he would always answer Jack's request for aid the same way:

Yeeeeeeeeees?!

Dad always knew this was coming. Even at five years old, I knew it, too. Since I knew what was coming, I'd watch Dad. Jack couldn't always get the help he wanted right away. He'd say something like, "Sir. Sir. Sir. Excuse me, sir" and then Frank Nelson turned around or stood up and replied,

Yeeeeeeeeeeees?!

As the Yeeeeeees! moment approached, Dad began to slide forward in his chair, as if he were watching the 49ers going for a first down on fourth and one late in the fourth quarter. I could almost hear his breathing increase.

Then Dad got what he wanted:

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees?!

He laughed uncontrollably. Every. Single. Time.

I laughed uncontrollably, too. I don't know if I was laughing harder at Dad or at Frank Nelson.

Then Dad would say the same thing every time. "That guy's not in too many places!" His rolls of laughter resumed.

Then Dad would catch his breath, mirthfully take the Lord's name in vain, and perform his Frank Nelson impression.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeees?!

He sounded just like FrankNelson. The Y and the early eee's started at one pitch, dropped lower, and then the long short "e" sound, and the Frank Nelson look of merry incompetence.

Dad loved imitating Frank Nelson and soon it was hard to tell if Dad was laughing at Frank Nelson or at himself being Frank Nelson.

Meanwhile, Jack had looked straight into the camera with a look of resignation and anxiety. The Yeeeeeeeeeees?! man had shown up again to frustrate Jack with his smarmy enthusiasm, lack of respect, and inevitable incompetence.

In case my description of Frank Nelson falls short, here's a clip of Jack Benny Christmas shopping and in need of assistance: