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Thank God for the Funny Bone

And God created man. And God created woman. And Thank God, he also gave us a sense of humor. The “funny bone” is one of the most important parts of the human body. IMHO, (that’s a tribute to my young text-savvy friends and family), it’s the funny, accidental, ridiculous things that inevitably occur at solemn occasions that that make them truly memorable for us.
The Mary Tyler Moore show was one of the most popular sitcoms ever. The episode when Mary could not control her laughter during a funeral service for “Chuckles the Clown” stands out with most of us. When the eulogist says, in describing Chuckles, “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants.” That’s freakin funny.
Here are a few of my examples. First a wedding. Our niece honored us by choosing a beautiful, historic house on East Battery in Charleston as the venue for her wedding ceremony. About 10 minutes before the ceremony was to start, the groom ran from the house, jumped in his car and drove away. Was he escaping? No, he had forgotten the wedding license back at the hotel and was speeding to get it so the ceremony could start. The bride’s mom was visibly upset, but I explained to her that his apparent escape was what we will all recall in years to come. It’s freakin funny.
At a more solemn occasion, a military funeral service, humor snuck in unexpectedly. Sadly, the son of our beloved secretary had suddenly passed away on active duty overseas. She requested a military memorial service for him. We supported that request.
For some reason we needed to perform the service the next day. The airman drafted to be the bugler and play “Taps“ was inexperienced, to say the least. During the service, he was “murdering“ Taps due to his inexperience. There was also a 21- gun salute. My boss’ wife attending the service with us, whispered, ”They ought to shoot the bugler.” That caused uncontrollable, stifled laughter from all four of us. Certainly, a memorable moment.
A final example was at the burial service for my own beloved mother. In her final days I took her for a car ride to see some beautiful Charleston scenery. My future wife, Marjorie was with us.
My mom noticed some beautiful oak trees on Garden Road. She questioned in her direct New York manner, “What’s that fuzz hangin off those trees?” I responded, “That’s not fuzz, mom, that’s Spanish Moss. It’s very common on oaks in Charleston.” Mom replied, “Well, I don’t like it. It’s killin the trees.” Of course, that’s not true, but I chose not to continue a fruitless argument.
Now, we’re attending Mom’s burial service. I looked up and saw some Spanish Moss hanging from a nearby oak. I nudged my future wife and whispered, “She’s gonna haunt me.” while pointing to the moss. Enter uncontrollable but stifled laughter at a most solemn time. Enuf.

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