(Editor’s note: Tammy Keith is on leave. The following column ran on May 4, 2008.)
I’ve decided my family is weird enough for us to have our own reality TV show.
When I say family, I’m referring to my husband and two sons — not my mom, dad and brother, although they can be entertaining, too.
The other night, I was engrossed in a TV show (some reality trash, I’m sure), and my husband came into the living room. He was dressed in a dreadlocks wig, a Scottish tam, a sweater, a scarf, shorts and long socks. He whispered for me to tell our 18-year-old that the door was for him when the doorbell rang; then my husband went outside.
So, I did as he asked. My son went to the door and started laughing and shaking his head. He called his girlfriend in to meet “Uncle Angus.”
That’s how my husband introduced himself. He flitted into the living room, using an accent that I thought sounded like a cross between Jamaican and Scottish: “Hey, mon, you were just a wee laddie the last time I saw you.”
My son’s girlfriend laughed and followed my husband around as he continued with his theatrics. I tried to block him out so I could hear my show on TV. My husband’s family does hail from Scotland, and we have a framed picture of the Keith Castle (also known as Dunnotar) on the wall. Well, that put Uncle Angus over the edge.
“What’s this? Ah, it’s the homeland!”
The act finally wore a little thin, and he “left,” hugging everyone goodbye.
I did take a photo of him before he went.
A few minutes later, my husband came into the living room looking normal again.
I said, “Hey, you just missed Uncle Angus.”
Then I decided it was just getting too weird, and I stopped playing.
My son’s girlfriend said, “I wanna see Granny.”
The day before, I had come home to find my husband in the kitchen with gray hair in a bun — a wig from past plays we’ve both been in. (He looked a lot like Norman Bates’ mother to me.)
He was wearing a long robe and was stooped over and puttering around the kitchen. Apparently, he’d introduced Granny to my son’s girlfriend.
And amazingly, she came back the next night.
My husband and I have both dressed up to be in the University of Central Arkansas murder mysteries, written by Lillian Petrucelli.
It’s not just my husband and me who have this bent toward acting.
My older son was asked to coach a Toad Jam team last week, and he put on a shirt, tie and slacks and took a marker board and papers to roll up to slap against his hand, just to play the part.
My younger son burst into “Oklahoma” the other night, and my husband joined in.
Carol Burnett is my idol. I do a mean Eunice impression.
So we either need our own reality TV show, or we need to get one-way tickets to the funny farm. I’m not sure which.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.