When writing my blog, I normally try to take a piece from within the book I’m currently working on. I then fumble with that piece until it fits nicely into our 21st-century world. Finally, I attempt to twist said piece into a humorous story that will bring a smile or maybe even a chuckle to my readers.
Lord knows we need it. I hold nothing but contempt for the “if it bleeds, it leads” mentality we’ve allowed to rule our press for quite some time now. What would be so wrong with a little good news amongst the overabundance of bad? You don’t live your life that way; at least I hope you don’t.
Consider your last family reunion or get-together. You may have spoken with other family members of someone who passed or a particular unpleasant incident, but for the most part you sat and laughed and recounted silly stories of your past.
It’s like something very important that my mother told me when I was but a lad during one of our many beach vacations. I, my sister, and the matriarch of the family were all bouncing in the waves. A light shower passed overhead and my mother in all her wisdom uttered these words, “Let’s go in before we get wet.”
One thing you didn’t do is mess with one of mama’s children. Here is a story to illustrate that point.
It was the day of the big race. I was around four years old and fast as greased lawnmower clippings. My sister was seven and a two-to-one favored. It was a quick sprint from the magnolia tree to the back of our ‘59 Chevy.
My uncle was the official starter and would also determine the finishing order.
I jumped to a quick lead but my sister overtook the scorching pace I had set. As she passed, I knew the race was lost, but I could see the arms of my loving uncle ready to embrace his nephew, consoling him in the midst of the worst loss in his young life.
Just a few more steps; Wayney, Wayney, his open arms imploring me come, come, and be comforted. I spread my arms to embrace my hero. Only one more step and my Wayney sidesteps my loving advance causing my poor wittle head to smash into the back of that ‘59 Chevy.
“Uh oh,” Wayney utters. “It appears as though my rear end is soon to be lawn clippings, for the screaming little banshee that just went inside to awaken “Big Momma” and we know ‘Big Momma’ don’t take no prisoners.” While events at the time were anything but comical (i.e., stitches in my head and a great fear for my uncle’s life) it is something we are able to laugh about today.
Humorous situations can be found locally, nationally, and globally. Of course, if you live in Texas and hear of a lighthearted event in Madagascar that would be an example of a global event for you. This same happening would be local if you lived in Madagascar. Now, if you resided in Africa, you could call this a national event. What it all boils down to is: Every incident is located close to some folks, further away from others, and far enough away from most folks that it’s getting close again.
Since I prefer the local, I’ll regale you with another childhood tale and one for the life of me I have never been able to understand. As I said, when I was a youngster, in the house in which I was raised and in my grandmother’s house (just to name two among the many at that time) there was a room that no one dared enter, the carpet and furnishings pristine. It was called, “the living room.”
It existed for one purpose and one purpose only and that purpose being to entertain visiting dignitaries. From the way the matriarchs maintained the “the living rooms,” I figured they were expecting the president, the Pope, and the like.
What this means to us: as much bad news as we have crammed down our throat, we need to look for the good, embrace what we find, and remember, there’s always something to laugh at. If you don’t believe me, look in the mirror. It always works for me.