When I went to family get-togethers, the house was packed with borrowed chairs and tables.
If I, as a young child, sat down at an empty chair that an adult had previously designated as their own, they would let me know upon their return.
They would look you in the eyes and say, “Would you jump in my grave as fast?”
For some unknown reason, this phrase had the power to move even the most obnoxious child without questions or delay.
It felt like a curse would be unleashed should you decide not to move.
Jumping into graves did not seem like an activity that would lead to anything good.