My Motto & Why

     My motto is this:  If I can't laugh at myself, I have no business laughing at anyone else.

     My recent silliness, that I have come to get great joy from, is lyrics, that I make up, and then sing them to a familiar or favorite song for someone on their birthday.  I record this with my phone and then post them on Facebook.

     I stood, last night, in the background while the recipient of my most recent "birthday ditty" laughed hilariously at his song.  It's been another favorite of all the people who watch them.

     I've watched it myself at least four times since and each time I do, I laugh like an idiot.  It helps to lift my spirits.

     There is a big difference in making fun of someone and poking fun.  I try very hard not to do the first.  No one enjoys being made fun of, it's hurtful.  But, if I can make someone smile, it makes me feel better too.

     With my odd sense of humor often comes times of laughter that some may think inappropriate or even disrespectful.  Let me give you an example of just such a time.

     My father died many years ago as a result of losing his battle with cancer.  He had decided to donate his body, what was left of it, to medical research in the hopes of helping others.

     The protocol for this procedure was that when the medical research was finished with him, his remains would be cremated and returned to his family for internment.

     Keep in mind, this was nearly thirty years ago and not many people that we knew had ever done this.

     Time ticked on.  One year lead to another.  Seven years later Mother was feeling guilty about not knowing exactly what had happened to him, or to his 'shell'.  

     I made a call to the funeral director and asked if we could find Dad.  

     About a week later, my oldest sister, Lela, and I attended the visitation service for an old friend of Mother's.  Mother was wintering in the South at that time, so we went in her place.

     Let me tell you a little bit about Lela's and my sense of humor. We came out of the same mold when it comes to finding humor in the oddest of places.  Sometimes it is not safe to be in the same room with us.  Our other sister, Blanche, will readily attest to this.

     So, anyway, we have gone through the receiving line and are making our way to the door when the funeral director, who by the way, was a wonderful, wonderful man, called to me.

     "Ruthie, we found your dad!", he exclaimed.

     My response was, "You did?!  That's great!"  

     I shot a look at Lela and knew immediately we needed to make a fast get-away.  After a brief explanation of what the next steps to be taken were, we thanked him and headed for the door.

     We scurried down the sidewalk and finally got around the corner of the building.  I turned and looked at her and said, "I feel like we are in a Far Side Cartoon.  I'm envisioning a man, sitting in a dark and dungy cavern with a large cauldron of ashes in front of him.  He has a telephone receiver in one hand and a large scoop in the other.  The man says, "Bill Murphy?  Yep, got him right here."

     We were nearly rolling in the gravel trying to get into the car.

     I can also assure you, Dad's internment was even more hilarious and he played a huge part in where our oddness comes from.