Sunday, January 26, 2014

Humor is relative

The majority of my family has, how should I put this, a sense of humor that leans toward the lowbrow type. Slapstick. Bodily functions. You get the idea. Daddy loved this kind of humor. Momma never did like it. I LOVE it. Always have. I understand she didn't like it and then here I am in one of the beautiful, amazing dresses she made me, my blonde hair meticulously spiral curled with these horrid metal rollers that I slept in, (those things are part of my nightmares), looking to all like a little angel. (SHUT up I did too!) I would be laughing hysterically at either farting noises by the boys or Laurel and Hardy doing something stupid. It did not fit her image of what a little girl was supposed to be. Whenever there was a Marx Brother's movie on Daddy and I would be right there. Watching it together on the couch. If by some wonderful chance my sister was visiting, we would all be there laughing "like a wild pack of hyenas" according to Momma. Daddy and I have watched many movies and shows over the years. We have many inside jokes. Most of which include farting or pooping or some other embarrassing subject. The movie Airplane is one we can almost recite from start to finish! One example of a running funny with us is his jokes about preperation-H. If you have never had to wonderful opportunity to see this product it is medicine for hemorrhoids in a tube like toothpaste comes in. Only on the end you attach a long rubber tube. For putting exactly where you think. Once while camping he pulled that out of the drawer by accident. And instead of just putting it back he proceeded to pretend to put it in his ear, up his nose, in his other ear and sticking his tongue out. To the delight of myself and sibling. Momma was most upset when she saw him. FATHER STOP THAT. She was so embarrassed. It became "our thing". When Momma would be going on about something and Daddy would be ready to change the subject he would stick his finger in his ear and make that exact same face. Of course we would all start laughing with the memory. Momma would get exasperated and heave her sigh of defeat. Usually calling us hopeless. It was a while before I caught her smiling as she walked away. She found some of it funny too! Only she was raised as a lady and ladies did not behave in this manner. A few nights ago I was putting stock away at work. It was the tummy trouble aisle. I started to giggle. And cry. And then laugh. I could see Daddy making that face with every yellow box I put on the shelf. I could hear Momma tsk tsking. I found a product that had a humorous name, Smooth Moves. Knowing it was a laxative product just made it that much more funny to me. I began to really laugh now. Cry and laugh. I was a real spectacle for a moment or two there. I wanted to grab my phone and call Daddy, He would love this! Crying because that Daddy is gone. I texted my brother and told him what I was laughing about. I am sure he laughed, too. He sent me reply that simply said, "We still have him, though". I thought, no we don't. That Daddy has disappeared with the progression of his dementia. We have a physical representation of Daddy but his personality is not the same. He laughs at things only he sees or hears. His laugh is not the same. I miss his giggle when he was teasing Momma. I miss his hearty laughter when we watched The Naked Gun or some other deeply moving important movie. I hate this. I pray my children don't have to deal with this when the time comes. I pray for cures for dementia and heart problems. I tell my children these stories of their grandparents. I want them to know the fun Granny and Poppa. To know that they were more than the sickly Granny or the Poppa who may or may not know who we are or even who he is sometimes. I hear my children laugh at Airplane and it makes my heart happy. I am sure somewhere inside my daddy would, too. Maybe I will tell him when I go visit. Maybe he will smile and know what I am saying. And maybe we will be Fred and Wilma that day. Who knows.

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