Grandma's Funeral

First you have to understand that Grandma and Grandpa were not church goers. In fact, Grandpa Hammond told everyone he was a Christian Scientist, because they were ignorant people in good old New Boston who were afraid of anything that was as strange and unusual as Christian Science. And also, he had learned that Christian Scientists didn't believe in doctors and medicine, and proclaiming he was one of them kept him from being hounded to go to the doctor. As far as I know, he never had any actual contact with a member of that faith.

You need also to know that Grandma was a musician. When she was a girl, she played the piano in a movie theater run by her mother, providing "mood" music to whatever was going on on the silent screen. She sang well and she appreciated good music of all kinds.

Grandma was raised a Baptist, but there was no Baptist church in town. When she died, my Aunt Mary came from California to take care of things. She made arrangements for burial in the New Windsor Cemetery and hired the local Baptist minister to do the grave side rites. The minister's wife played the autoharp (or was it a zither?), and she and her husband would sing "Nearer My God to Thee."

The day of the funeral arrived and it was cold and windy, but at least there was no snow on the ground. We all trooped to the cemetery where there was a tent to keep off some of the wind, just SOME of the wind. It blew through like only a prairie wind can blow.

The minister decided it was time for Grandpa to 'come to Jesus' and he set out to tell Grandpa the error of his ways for keeping Grandma away from the church all those years. At least that's how I remember it. Never a kind word was said about our wonderful, laughing, kind Grandma. I don't know if he was preaching eternal damnation or not, but that's how it seemed to me.

Then the preacher and his wife began their rendition of the old hymn. He was a pretty decent singer, and she wasn't bad as a musician, but the wind blowing so steadily apparently dried out a string...or something. Anyway about 2/3 through the first verse she hit the sourest note you ever heard. Then when they got to the same place on the next verse, she didn't avoid it. She waded right in and played that bad note again.

Joy, Corrine (Joy's mother) and I were red in the face from having to hold in our laughter. We could just imagine Grandma cringing in her casket at that awful screech. As soon as we could get behind the nearby shed, we dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. Just then Aunt Sally came around the building and thought we were sobbing. Our family not being comfortable with outward displays of emotion, she turned around and went back the way she came.

They say laughter and tears aren't far apart, and on that cold day in February, we couldn't have agreed more...and I dare say, Grandma was laughing right along with us.

Gladys Lelia McUne Hammond 1890 - 1970

Does It Dissolve or Float?

My hubby keeps me laughing. I think the quality I have always liked most about him is his sense of humor.
Last night he had insomnia. This morning I asked him what time he got to sleep and he said it was after 3:30. About 3:15 he got up and came down to the kitchen for some milk. He said, "I found out one thing. Nutmeg does not dissolve. It just floats on top of the milk no matter how much you stir."
And that reminded me of the time we came home one evening and found pepper and sawdust (I think it was) floating in water in the bathroom sink . Puzzled, we asked the girls who had done it, and found out it was Robin. "I wanted to see if pepper and sawdust would float."
As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.

My New Picture

For a long time I've had as my blog photo a picture of myself that I like. Now I'm changing it to one that I find hilarious. The caption that goes with it is, "It's been a tough year...but I made it!" I feel like I've been there a couple of times myself.
Humor is a strange thing. Aren't we glad that God chose to insert a funny bone into humans? I think I read that the only other creature that God gave a giggle to is the chimpanzee.
One of the traits I prize the most in my friends and relatives is the ability to laugh. My mother was the best laugher in the business, and telling her a joke was one of life's finest joys. I fell in love with my husband the first time I met him, because he was so funny. He always had a quip and kept everyone laughing.
At one time I wanted She was wise engraved on my tombstone. Now all I want on there is She laughed a lot. When I'm gone, I hope my family and friends will remember me as someone who loved funny jokes, hilarious cartoons, and genuinely humorous stories.
There have been some rough times, but I've made it through them and I can still strut my stuff and laugh!

Smiles for Similes

There was a time when my Cousin Joy and I were stay-at-home moms, and we wrote to each other every week. We got so desparate for adult conversation that we set out to use big words as often as we could in our letters.

At some point we both decided to collect similies. Don't remember your literature? A simile is a comparison of two things using the words "like" or "as." A couple of examples are "slow as molasses in January," "She looked like the wrath of God," and "snug as a bug in a rug."

Over the years I wrote the similes I found in the margins of a book that was a collection of them. After I moved, I couldn't find the book, so I've just jotted them down on pieces of paper. Every once in awhile I come across one, and I get another chuckle out of it.

I remember when Jim's brother was going through his divorce, and he was so upset. He would visit us and unload about how he felt. It was very sad. The trouble was that he is a very humorous guy, and he would use these similes that would be so funny, I couldn't keep from bursting out laughing. My laughter was so inappropriate, but it was impossible not to laugh. The first one I remember was "slippery as snot on a glass door knob." Here I sit laughing so hard that tears have formed in my eyes. I wish I had recorded all of them that he said.

The other night I was finishing M. C. Beaton's book Death of a Gentle Lady, and up popped a simile I just had to save: “…her eyelashes were so heavily mascaraed, it looked as if two large spiders had found a home in her face.”

So now I'm starting over again to collect similes. Anyone want to join me?

Incidentally, if you can't get the comment thing to work, send your comments to my email, kdfyke@mchsi.com.