Category Archives: Humor

My Sister-in-Law Was a Human Cannonball or Where Do You Park Your Elephants?

Duina Preparing for Flight

Many years ago, my husband’s father was Potentate of the Almenah Shrine Temple in Nashville, Tennessee. At some point, over sixty years ago, he initiated bringing a Shrine Circus to Nashville.  Little did he know that it was also bringing a future daughter-in-law.

A high-light of the circus were the  Flying Zacchinis.  The Zacchinis were a circus family from Italy.  They performed on the trapeze, the trampoline, and their own invention, the Flying Cannonball.  Two beautiful young sisters were propelled from a giant cannon across the arena into a net.  This was done with much suspense and fanfare and a loud explosive sound, as they literally came flying out. (Except once, when the sound effects failed and there was just a ‘ f-f-f-f-t‘ as they were shot out.)  Sometimes they were in double cannons and shot simultaneously.  One of the sisters, Duina, was a petite blue eyed blond. She flew gracefully on the trapeze with her brothers,  did acrobatics with them on the trampoline, and was one of the star ‘cannonballs.’

My husband’s oldest brother was just back from serving his country and getting ready to start college.  He was hired on to help set up all the equipment.  One look at this lovely young star, who had performed all over the world, including to full houses in Madison Square Garden, and he fell, hook, line, and sinker.  They married, he got a law degree, Duina took time out to have three daughters,  and then for years played the larger cities in Europe and America for just two months each year.

When I started dating my husband at college in Texas, he mentioned that he had a sister-in-law that was a human cannonball.  I wasn’t sure I believed him, but after I mentioned it to my mom, she began to refer to him as ‘that nice cannonball boy.’  On my first trip to Nashville to meet his family, lo and behold, there in his brother’s back yard was a full size practice trapeze.

Duina, was a sparkly, fun person.  She was also very down to earth, at least when she wasn’t flying through the air.  My brother-in-law took up sky diving.  I guess, when your wife is a human cannonball, you might feel a need to do something out of the ordinary.

When our children were growing up, we always tried to take them to the Shrine Circus when it came to town.  One Sunday after the closing matinee, Duina asked us to lead the elephant owners and their trailer full of of elephants down to our family’s country place in the next county.  It seems that though some motels take pets, they draw the line at Elephants.  I had never thought about where you would park your elephants between show dates.

This turned into more of an adventure than we had anticipated.  There were two grown elephants and one small one, so the truck was quite large.  We discovered belatedly, that one of the overpasses wasn’t quite high enough to get the truck through, and it took quite a bit of maneuvering to get it backed up and turned around with traffic and gawkers collecting rapidly.  Then, they needed to stop for gas.  Pulling into a gas station with a truck full of elephants was another challenge  and I’m sure  it was an experience the station attendants never forgot.

We finally got the elephants happily staked out in a field near the creek and their owner’s RV hooked up to electricity and water at a near-by empty house on our family’s land.  Mission ‘Where to Park Your Elephants,’  was safely completed.

But,the dirt road, past where the elephants were staked out, happened to be the road out to the highway from the local golf club.  About dusk, as tired, but mellow golfers began to drive by the field with the elephants in it, a wispy light fog rolled off the creek.  The first car slowed down, then stopped, near where we were getting into our car.  The two men stared intently through the mist at the hulking grey shapes.  We heard one man say to the other,  “I won’t tell my wife, if you don’t tell yours!”

A Crawdad Named Speedy

The suspense is building as Josh and Nanu stand poised, cups ready.

It’s becoming a magical shell game in the clear rock bottomed creek.

“Where are you, crawdad?” calls Josh, as he pokes at a rock with his tennis shoe.

In a blink, the hunt turns into a race, as a crawdad dashes from under the rock.

Splashing ankle deep, Nanu yells, “There he goes! There he goes! Get him, Josh.”

But he disappears as quickly as he came. And Nanu thinks she hears him snicker.

An hour later, soaking wet, Nanu barely croaks, “Look, there he goes again.”

But, finally, Josh has placed his cup just right, as the crawdad slips out of hiding.

“Hooray!” cheers Nanu. “Now that we’ve got our bait, we’re ready to go fishing.”

But, Josh is peering fondly at the crawdad, suggesting that they give it a name.

“Oh noooo!” wails Nanu. “That’s a bad idea.” Too late. Josh is calling him Speedy.

Nanu admits it’s the perfect name and sighing agrees, “Yes, Speedy should be freed.”

As they say good-bye to Speedy, Josh cheerfully suggests that the fish will wait,

until they can buy some anonymous bait. But, Nanu is muttering under her breath,

“Just you watch out next year, Speedy.”

Close Encounters with Innocence

When I first moved to our small rural town forty-one years ago, it was in ways both positive and negative, a culture shock.

A friend from church, originally from near New York, decided to start a community theater. One of our first endeavors was taking a humorous version of Cinderella to the elementary schools. These children had never seen live theater. I played the elderly, somewhat flaky and forgetful, fairy-Godmother.

At the first school, which had fifth and sixth grade classes, when I asked everyone to close their eyes, I was supposed to find someone with their eyes open. I couldn’t find anyone, even the teachers, with their eyes open. It threw me for a minute, until I caught the principal opening his and could scold him.

At one of the schools out in the country with second and third graders, after talking about what Cinderella would need to go to the ball, I asked everyone to close their eyes and wish. Then I asked, “What are we wishing for?” A tiny girl with her eyes squinched tight, shouted with all her heart in her voice, “A bicycle, a bicycle!”

But the most disconcerting experience came with kindergartners and first graders. At the conclusion of the play, they spontaneously stormed en mass onto the gym floor to try to capture my magic wand. At five foot-two, I was in danger of literally being knocked down and trampled and had to be rescued by the prince and the king. It was actually scary.

Such is the vulnerability and power of belief without the balance of  understanding.

Call on Somebody You Know!

I have been creating and leading devotionals at a nursing home for about a year and a half. This is a rich experience in every way. Speaking to a group of people, most of whom are comatose or deaf, is humbling to say the least. And spending time with a dear friend there, who is losing it mentally, triggers memories of my mother’s journey into the darkness of Alzheimer’s.
Sometimes the caregivers and I share a moment of gentle humor, that brings a tiny sunbeam into the darkness of the situation. It’s really the only way you can persevere in this kind of situation.
Interestingly enough, with my mom, flashes of her own humor would surface unexpectedly. When she was still living with us, she would want to help me, though she was no longer really competent. One day I was working at home at the counter in the kitchen. She kept offering to start dinner for me, so I finally, to just get some time to focus on finishing my work, put a large pot of water on to boil for six ears of corn and a small pot of water on for a pack of frozen broccoli. I told her to put them in when the water came to a boil. A while later, she said, “Eileen, something doesn’t look right.”  So, I stopped reluctantly to check it out. She had put the small amount of broccoli in the huge pot of water and all the ears of corn in the small pot of water, which had all boiled away.
I said irritably, “Oh, my God!”
Without a blink’s hesitation she replied, “Call on somebody you know!”

Winter Grace: Humor and Hope

Winter Grace is a book by Kathleen Fischer on Spirituality and Aging.
I particularly like the chapter on Humor and Hope
Here’s a quote:
But only when we have lived long enough to experience humanity in its range and complexity is our humor at its deepest and truest. Redemptive humor is more than the ability to enjoy an isolated humorous situation. It is an attitude toward all of life. Not only is humor a gift of the later years; it is indispensable to hope and healing during that time. Humor recognizes that limitations and failures are not final and unredeemable tragedies. Like a ray of sunshine piercing a dark and overcast sky, humor suggests God’s abiding presence and brightens our human prospects……Humor is a gentle reminder of the reality of redemption

Traveling

“What is traveling? Changing your place? By no means! Traveling is changing your opinions and your prejudices.” Anatole France (1844-1924)

Hmmm…… What opinions have I changed? What prejudices? Hmmmm……that’s very expensive travel.

Mystery Bug

I crawl along
in silent cadence.
My many tiny feet,
though barely seen,
march in perfect
synchronicity.
My scary pincers
protrude ahead,
much larger by far
than all my tiny feet.
And though I’m deemed
completely harmless,
I get the final word.
I leave a putrid smell,
if you try to squish me.

A Very Special Lady

Bobbie’s eyes sparkled above her mischievous grin as she rolled up to me, holding out her leg.
“Here, carry this darn thing , will you? It’s been killing me all morning.”
Open mouthed, but speechless, I took her prosthetic leg. We were coming out of the restroom into the main lobby of the Renaissance Center, where people were coming and going to plays and art exhibits and classes.
Bobbie propelled her wheel chair expertly toward the door, smiling at everyone as she stopped to embrace friends with her usual joyful warmth.
I followed behind her, joining in her amazing humorous acceptance of all that life had dealt her, by carrying her leg over my shoulder, like a rifle.
When we reached the car, she swung herself up into the driver’s seat, as I stowed all her transportation aids in the trunk.
“Boy,” she said. “Isn’t it great that I still have my right leg, so I can drive. Let’s celebrate with a cappuccino. My treat.”

Save Trees: Send Back Advertisements that Come with Bills

Shell Oil, among others, encourages us to save trees by paying on-line. Paradoxically, they include a lot of totally irrelevant, unsolicited, paper advertisements in with their paper invoices. I now send the advertisements back with my payment and a note suggesting they recycle these.

The Best Thing about Getting Seriously Old

The best thing about getting seriously old is that you don’t have to.