By Sarah Mansheim
Managing Editor • Mountain Messenger
Y’all are snitches.
That’s right, I said it.
Seems like I can’t put anything in this Traffic Report and not get a little flack from whomever I’ve been writing about.
Last Saturday night, I threw a birthday party for my younger daughter at the bowling alley. All her friends were there, and her grandmas and her grandpa, too, including my mother. After I greeted my mom, she took a long look at me and said, “I can’t believe you went to the store and bought those nasty taco shells.”
I told you not to tell!
Anyway, I defended myself the best I could, “Well, ah, you know, I’m just so busy and…” (I went with flattery here) “you know I’ll never make them as good as you do.”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” she said to me. I quickly changed the subject.
I’m going to a good friend’s birthday party tonight. Her husband put me in charge of inviting people, so I sent out a group Facebook message to all our girlfriends letting them know the time and place. “You have to be there,” I wrote.
“Yeah,” my friend Pat replied to all of us. “If we don’t show up, she’ll put us in the Traffic Report.”
Well, maybe I will: Pat, you’re in the Traffic Report again! Nanny nanny boo boo!
Here’s the thing: I’m not just a columnist; I’m a reporter too.
I can’t go anywhere and have a cocktail while discussing local politics and gossip without some wise guy piping up, “Careful, Sarah’s here. We’ll end up in the paper.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’re off the record.”
“Yeah, right,” they say.
Meanwhile, when it comes to the Traffic Report, my friends, family and loved ones know nothing is off the record. It’s all fair game. And trust me, I keep a lot more to myself than I share with you all.
And, regarding newspaper reporting, here’s the deal: newspapers are gossip with sources. I mean, why do you think our competitor puts the obituaries on the front page? People read the newspaper to find out who got married, who’s getting divorced, who died and who went to jail. And, apparently, you all read the Traffic Report to find out who I’m laughing at this week. (Here’s a hint: it’s usually myself.)
So, Mom: Yes I bought taco shells and no, they didn’t taste as good as homemade ones, but they’re so much easier to deal with and I know Grandmother is rolling over in her grave and I’m sorry!
You guys: I’m going to give you one more chance. Here is a list of things I don’t want you to tell my mom. I’m trusting you all here.
• In high school I hit a post in the school parking lot with her car
• I’ve never once used that fancy apple peeler thingy she bought me from the Vermont Country Store
• Or the immersion blender
• I pick my face
• I’ve chipped one of grandmother’s Blue Danube salad plates
• And broken one of the coffee mugs
Now, if Mom calls me next week asking what ever happened to the back bumper of our Ford Granada, or asks me how my grandmother’s china is holding up, I know who to blame.
And remember, nobody likes a rat.