Last night Klecko was in a wedding party. that's right, he wore a suit, drove across the ocean to Minneapolis to watch the son of his first Bread Master get remarried.
This wan't the bride or grooms first rodeo, both were close to 50, both had mulitple children (a total of 7 I think.)
Nobody, and I mean nobody gets invited to weddings as much as a baker for obvious reasons (Baker ='s Cake.)
The knot was to be tied in the back yard of a yard that literally was large enough that it had a gazebo and a soccer pitch.
During crunch time, the Pastor strolls out to main stage and I had to laugh a bit, dude looked like a handsome Fred Flinstone.
I really liked the guy. he was personable and made sure everybody realized the importance of the moment.
But....but, but, when he started his dealio, the marrige ceramony he stated...
"The Author of Ecclesiasties tells us in the 4th chapter that 2 are better than 1. When people traveled back in those days, they needed to have a companion. There were no Ramada's so it was good to have a warm body to lie next to. It was good to have somebody who could help encourage you, and fend off attackers as well."
Then the pastor talked about how rope was made and 3 strand was the perfect number for a rope that wouldn't snap.
OK, first off...why do clergy people think they are so cool that they have to say "The author of Ecclesiasties? Sure, its a 13 letter word, but just say Solomon. Most theologians agree on his authorship.
And the whole 2 is better than 1 deal, sure I get it, but dude, the grooms sister was in the wedding party and nobody has ever asked her to get married. it really bummed her out.She stared down in the grass for the remainder of the vows portion.
Then I thought of all my peeps from Klecko's Girlfriend nation, how many of them were cast aside by some letch that wanted to be "2", but with a new chick, a younger chick?
I would have dropped the whole 2 is better than 1 deal on the couple during counciling, not the ceramony. It just seemed so insensitive.
The groom was smart, he spent most of the evening making him self available to the brides family. I would have done the same thing. His political position in their clan was now starting.
I was OK, because I had my original Bread Master, and my wife to talk with, uh...wait, that's right....Sue McGleno got lost and couldn't find the venue LOL.
She came directly from work and apparently her sence of direction and Google maps couldn't find syncronisity.
Whenever I try to get her to use a Tom-Tom or any GPS system of her choice, she recoils in hatred.
Remember the time she was supposed to be home from Omaha in a couple minutes, but missed her turn off and called crying from Illinois?
Anyway, I regress.
He took her, and she took him, and they kissed for a long time. I've always been a short kiss guy myself, save the real stuff for the honeymoon right?
Master Zolick and I sat at a table with the Grooms 2 sons, they must be 14 and 12ish, and at this point my mentor noticed that I wasn't wearing my wedding ring and asked why.
I explained how on several occasions my ring had got caught on production equipment and I almost lost my finger. The boys thought this was cool so all of a sudden Master Zolick and I started swapping stories about people getting mauled in the work place.
Traditionally one person a year will get killed in a barrel mixer. these are the huge industrial mixers that have 3 agitator bars inside. Most barrel mixers have a capacity of 600 to 1500 pounds of dough.
Thay whole deal is kinda urban legend, you'll go into work on May 12th, and somebody will say....
"It happened at 4 a.m. our time."
And of course you have no idea of what they are talking about so you ask....what they are talking about....
"Dude in Dublin got eaten by a Peerless 1000# capacity mixer last night."
Of course there is supposed to be remorse for such a thing, but it is as inevitable as Christ's crucifixtion, it just has to go down, and if so....better some turd on the Emerald Island than you, huh?
Next I told the kids about Milo's Rackov. he was a gypsy baker that I went to school with. he had long hair, wore bracelets, smoked Lucky Strikes, and quoted Iggy Pop every chance he could.
Milos was about 10 years older than the rest of the students at Dunwoody.
One morning he was taking the dough hook off the 100 quart Hobart mixer. The mixer was turned off, but some idiot left the clutch it in 4th gear.
Then big ol' Johnny Lamonna leaned up against the start button and "SNAP" both sides of his arm shattered.
My gypsy comrade was hurled through the air, for i'll bet 35-40 feet.
But that snap sounded like a Sequoia Redwood being pulled out of the earth by its roots.
Sure, I could have discussed Jim Plourd's hands getting caught in the receaving end of the bread molder and them getting crushed so bad that somebody else had to wipe his butt during the months that followed.
Then their was the Wisconsin Farmboy who had an Identical twin. They were 17-18ish and loved to go into the city and buy the services of African American.....escorts?
Yeah, brother #1 got his 3 middle fingers ripped off when the door of a 2 ton dough trough slammed shut.
Juan Cruz had his middle finger torn off when down at the second knuckle of the middle finger. it didn't pull away clean either. It happened while he was changing pressure plates on the Blumhoff steak bun machine, he picked up the severed digit off the floor and put it in a bag and was about to drive himself to the hospital, but we opted to let the 911 chauffeurs take him instead.
Teenage boys love stories like these, but all my best maimings couldn't compare to what the master had witnessed.......
"I was at a grocery store in North Dokata on a sales call one winter. This was years ago. I was standing in the back, and trying to stay out of the way because the King Midas flour truck had pulled up.
The delivery guy had to open a trap door, and hump that order down in to the basement 2 bags at a time.
Now that trap door happened to be right next to the donut fryer, to close obviously as you'll hear, but the fryer was so focused on his donuts, he forgot the trap door was open.
The kid took one bad step, and started to fall into the hole. his instints were to grab the fryer to catch his balance.
It didn't work, the kid fell down to the cement floor, and if that wasn't bad enough, he tilted the fryer and can you imagine Dan? All that scalding grease came down on top of him.
He was only 15 years old."
Now Master Zolicks 2 grandsons looked at each other, then at their Granfather and asked.....
"Did the boy live?"
Master Zolick slowly shook his head on a swivel....
"No you guys, nobody lives through something like that!"
Then the boys smiled and said....