More Dad Jokes

Dad jokes were more a category, than an exclusive genre of humor.

Other people told “Dad Jokes.”  Favorite aunts, uncles, teachers and preachers, told “Dad Jokes.”  Preachers told them because they weren’t nasty or dirty.

They were corny, plays on words, terrible puns, paraphrases.  From various sources,  TV shows, pop culture–long out of fashion.  Slips of the tongue, held against you for the next forty years.

It was Uncle Elmer, or others like him.  You stayed still, listened, no matter how many times you’d heard the same things before.  Inside, silently screamed for mercy.

I’m full. You’re a fool?

I’m stuffed.  Well, you look real.

Leave me alone. Make you a loan?

Don’t want to talk?  Cat got your tongue?

The rain in Maine fell plainly on the grain.

You’re mixed up. Your nose runs and your feet smell.

The calf near a silo, Was his fodder in there?

Why did the boy call his girlfriend “Hinges”?  Because she was something to adore.

A schoolboy, asked to use “fascinate” in a sentence, My shirt has ten buttons, I can only fasten eight.

Most of the “Dad Jokes” stopped as time passed.  I would gladly endure more “Dad Jokes,” if it meant having the joke tellers back.

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Holiday Wrap Up 2017

The same post-Holiday concerns–extra pounds packed on, the long drive home, bad weather.

An hour-long traffic jam due to a horrendous car wreck. How could that BMW have gotten wedged under bridge supports in that manner? Could anyone have survived?

It was quite a contrast in weather conditions, between yesterday morning and today. Yesterday, with snow and ice–four degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill of minus seven. Today, cloudy, with drizzle and forty degrees.

Nothing in the house to eat for breakfast. Off, to a nearby comfort food restaurant. Mountains of dirty laundry await.

All-in-all a good Christmas. Everyone in good health and good spirits. The good outweighed the bad.

Yesterday was filled with explanations, exclamations at bad drivers,  and stories that took way too long. Ploys to keep drivers awake on an 800 mile journey.

Happy Soupsgiving

No one needs to be reminded of the countdown to Christmas.  It seems to me that after Halloween ends, the Holiday season is upon us.

Our family tradition–a holiday before the Holidays.  No gifts exchanged–except for homemade beef vegetable soup, simmered all day. Homemade chicken noodle soup for those that prefer.

Estranged family members still crave it and are never turned away.  They are obliged with a quart of home-made soup to take home.  Leftovers are enjoyed for days.

Just a few more days till “Soupsgiving.” I can’t wait.  There will be plenty for everyone.  Happy Soupsgiving everyone.

Sticks and Stones

Away from home

While missing home

Tropical uncertainties traded

For low humidity, blue skies

Family traditions

Free room and board

Minor discomforts

Boring road food

Some of it was acting

Acting, for the benefit

Of those in attendance

Buddy Holly tribute eyewear

In fashion–without thought

Given to rockabilly legends

Some left to make room

for those, yet to come

Modern-day prophets

Rested, never knowing

Their promised lands

Mere words unimportant

Sticks and stones

 

2017 Father’s Day Thoughts

What did I remember most about my father, twenty-two years after his passing?

Like other men of his generation, he wore hats. His favorite was a gray fedora. Fathers, back then dressed up more, than fathers do today.

Most in the community thought him to be extremely patient and even-tempered. They never got on his bad side–like I did, on occasion.

He was a man of faith. His relationship to his maker was most important. We read the Bible aloud, from cover-to-cover, in family devotionals–down to every begat, whereas, and wherefore.

His lame jokes, that made everyone cringe, notwithstanding; if it were possible, on this Father’s Day, I would tell him that his example made a difference.