"Are You Sarcasing Me Mom?": Passing Down the Gift of Sarcasm

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

“You look really pretty today” was what that sweet 8th grade boy said to me. My response was “shut up.” Why, you ask? Because of sarcasm.

It was picture day and I was trying out a new look. The night before I had convinced the hairdresser to style my wiry, frizzy brown hair into the smooth flipped style of the blonde

model in the Glamour magazine page I had ripped out. She tried to convince me that was not the style for me, but I pleaded. Somehow, she wrestled and wrangled my unruly tresses into a style resembling the photo.

I slept sitting-up so as not to destroy the hair style that belonged on a California blonde’s silky smooth locks. I woke the next morning and put on my new blue plaid, high neck, double breasted, ruffled blouse (which I bought with the $13.00 that Martha M. lent me while we were at Severance Center Mall, and I think I still owe her. Martha, if you’re reading this, the check is in the mail), pairing it with my grey flannel wraparound skirt that fell mid-calf. I finished this racy look with taupe-colored hose that I had cracked fresh from their plastic egg container and brown leather sandals with a one inch platform heel.

My 8th grade school portrait by Mike Corbley

I did look pretty hot for a 13-year-old. And, the outfit was a stretch from the blue plaid skirt, solid white, oxford cloth, button down blouse and navy vest I usually wore. Oh-My-Gosh! I just realized I basically wore my Catholic school girl uniform, but in reverse, wow!

I did feel a bit pretty that day and wanted someone to notice my “new” look. But, thanks to my sarcastic upbringing, my guard was always up. So, when I received the compliment I so desperately wanted, I shot that shy boy down. The look on his face was a combination of hurt and confusion. Why did I tell him to shut-up? That was when it first dawned on me that some people just give compliments, no strings attached.

When my daughter was about four years old I said something to her and she paused a beat then replied, “Are you sarcasing me?” At a very young age my daughter had learned, not to recognize good sarcastic remarks, but to expect them.

My reaction was mixed. Initially, I felt proud. Then, I felt a bit concerned. Was I setting my daughter up to not trust a compliment? Was she going to grow up believing what I believed, that everything kind and unkind said to me and around me is probably said with irony?

Growing up with my mom and her siblings was like growing up immersed in a master class of sarcastic remarks and retorts. The zingers flew in rapid fire succession. Eventually, my cousins, sister, and I crafted our art of the sarcastic quip. Now, when we are all together, we are prepared to decipher which remarks are tainted with mockery and which just might be straightforward compliments (truth be told, those are rare).

As I grew up and ventured out into the real world, I didn’t, at first, understand that others do not have as highly cultivated senses of irony, and are, in fact, deeply hurt and insulted by my sarcasm. I have burned many bridges in my life simply because others from normal families and upbringings cannot recognize and appreciate a finely crafted turn of sarcastic wit.

Sadly, I am now well into my forties and I have just come to truly appreciate how many kind people I have inadvertently offended.

I told myself that I would not raise my girls with the same sarcastic comebacks that I grew up learning to dodge and craft. But truth be told, as much as it hurt me throughout my life, I LOVE sarcasm. It requires quick thinking, intellect, courage, and a sharp sense of humor. It is all in the delivery.

Sarcasm, when it is delivered just right, at the right time, to the right person, with the right wording paired with the right facial expression and body language, is awesome. Cultivating that laughter and respect for a well-turned phrase or comeback from the recipient and onlookers can be heady. Unfortunately, for every well played one liner, about 20 fall flat.

I consider my penchant for using sarcasm with my daughters, daily, as a gift. If they learn the fine art of irony and caustic quips used for good and not for evil, then they too can garner a small following of folks who appreciate their skill. Maybe they too will piss off a few good folks along the way, but do they really want people in their lives who can’t appreciate their humor and intellect? No.

Okay, maybe they have a different opinion than me. Just in case, I try to throw in a serious and heartfelt compliment from time to time so they know how to recognize those too. Of course, when I tell them they “look pretty,” they pause, look and me with a sidelong glance, and then ask , “Are you sarcasing me mom?’ Oh well, I tried.