P.O. Box 1464
Pt. Reyes Station, CA 94956
P.O. Box 1464
Pt. Reyes Station, CA 94956
So I dropped the ball on the blog-a-month-on-Fun idea.
I found out in July that I had to move and was all about that until I found a sweet place in a town (see Contact page) that has made my soul sing from my first visit here, nigh onto 20 years ago.
Let’s keep going with that old-man language….
It’s been three years since my father died. I spoke his name out at a service last night, with others who have lost people at this time of year. This morning, making my tea, I scooped a bit of local honey out of a jar, and this piece of fun from my childhood came swooping back to me.
I can feel and picture myself – four years old, messy hair, fork in hand at the dinner table, head dropped back in joy as I crack up at the unsaid foolishness, and feeling my dad as a deliciously sharp humorist. (He had an irreverent joy inside him that often did not have its say.) Every time my father shared this little rhyme, I would laugh like mad and demand an encore.
So in honor of my father, and fathers everywhere…
In honor of my new digs, the memories arising as I unpack,
In honor of the Days of Awe,
In honor of Fun, I leave you with:
I eat my peas with honey
I’ve done it all my life
It makes the peas taste funny
But they don’t roll off my knife.
Laughing right now, Dad.
I loved this story when it was told out loud. Hope it translates! Here goes:
My brother Eric is a physicist. And, he has a great sense of humor. Which means he’s fun-ny, even if he’s not always, in the strictest sense of the word, “fun.” He told me a story this month about being on the road with a fellow physicist that seemed the perfect second installment for my Fun investigation.
Most of you who drive know what it’s like to go on a road trip with someone who is not a close friend or family member. You may not think alike, plan alike, or drive alike, and that can lead to arguments, or at least discomfort – when people with different travel styles are in a car together. (Come to think of it, that could easily happen with a close friend or a family member…but I digress.)
Here’s an example of what I mean: some people move into their exit lane miles before their desired exit comes up, some listen to their GPS and move over at the half-mile moment, and then there are the living-on-the-edge types who only move into the exit lane when the sign shows up above the exit ramp itself. It’s always a bit of a nail-biter for me, when I’m driving with those folks. I strive to expand my risk tolerance in my own driving style, but I’m pretty much a 1/2-mile or more lane-changer.
Back to my brother and his colleague. (Let’s call him “Len.”) They were going on a business trip that required driving from their company headquarters in Connecticut to the airport in Providence, Rhode Island. My bro, who is an excellent planner, says to his fellow brainiac, “I’ve never done this drive before, what exit do I want?” His buddy says, “Oh, it’s easy. Get off at Route 147.”
This was in the days before GPS technology had become part of our lives.
So they’re driving along, my brother behind the wheel, zipping down the highway; ready to change lanes a good bit before the sign for Route 147 might announce itself.
Suddenly, Len gets really agitated: “Come on, come on, you gotta get off! Get off! Get off! Route 146!! It’s right there, get off NOW!”
You know that ‘shoot the navigator’, frenzy-in-the-front-seat that can occur at such moments? I have kind of terrible memories of my dad yelling at my mom for not directing him correctly on just such occasions. My face twists up just thinking about it.
Eric has to move fast and cut across two lanes of traffic to get off in time. As he does, he snaps at Len, “What are you talking about? This is route 146!”
Without missing a beat, his fellow scientist calmly responds, “What? That isn’t even 1%!”
My brother – who grew up in the same back seats as me – cracked up, and hasn’t stopped telling the story since.
I am WAY interested in people who, in times of stress and mistaken action, when blame and shame are the easy go-to’s, can not only find, but create humor. Len, you are my hero.
And apparently, in the world of scientists, that’s only the tip of the fun iceberg. More, anon.