The Kids Enjoyed my "Whoppers"

I miss the days when my daughter and son were kids. If it were possible, I'd love to live that segment of my life again. Some of the greatest memories centered around me telling them some of the most unbelievable whoppers. The kids knew these were tall tales, but they loved to hear them. My objective was twofold: To entertain them and to spark creativity.

I told the children they didn't realize how old Mom was. During her childhood years, she would pack a lunch, stand along the road, and then wait for the school stagecoach to arrive. Furthermore, I added, fire drills and tornado drills did not yet exist. Instead, when an alarm sounded at the school, Mom and her classmates grabbed their rifles and headed to their assigned slots in the wall, where they would repulse Indian raids.

It is no secret that my wife and her family love fairs, zoos, and circuses. Several years ago, when the kids were little dudes, we traveled to the state fair with my sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and their children. After a few hours at the fair, the kids wanted to go home, but the sisters aggressively vetoed that idea. A couple of hours later, the men suggested it was time to go, but to no avail.

From this true story, I exaggerated just a bit. I told the kids that Mom and her sister once went to a fair and refused to leave. They went through the animal barns so often that the critters soon greeted them by name. Eventually, the fair manager handed my wife the keys and told them to lock the main gate when and if they ever decided to leave.

One aspect of comedy is exaggeration. My wife and her family love popcorn, especially when it is drowned in butter, so I told the kids that many years ago, she was accidentally locked in a popcorn factory over the weekend. By the time of her release on Monday, she weighed over 500 pounds and had to be retrieved from the factory with a forklift. Of course, after her visit, there was no popcorn left in the building.

We talked about how dogs can be trained to track missing persons and escaped criminals. The children did not know, however, that their mother had even more amazing skills than this. If the wind was blowing just right, she could pinpoint a popcorn factory from up to seventy miles away!

My father-in-law was one of the most wonderful human beings I've had the pleasure of knowing. His daughter told the family on numerous occasions that he proudly could proclaim that alcohol had never touched his lips. Therefore, I informed the kids that their grandfather had simply used a straw. They thought that was funny; my wife, not so much.

I told the kids I could read their minds. Naturally, they didn't believe me. However, they had to agree with me when I announced they were thinking I couldn't tell what they were thinking.

The children were impressed when I informed them that their mother held the North American speed record for backing out of a driveway. In fact, I insisted, her car's speedometer, rather than in miles per hour, was listed at Moch 1 and Moch 2. Furthermore, by law, I explained, she had to file a flight plan before taking a trip.

Thanks to me, I informed the kids, a miracle took place at our church. When I began singing, folks in their 90s, some of whom were wheelchair-bound, for the first time in decades were able to get up and sprint from the church. For some reason, my adult children believe this particular story could be true. I guess they've heard me sing!

The kids were informed that long ago, I had a tryout with the New York Yankees. I told them only three little, inconsequential factors kept me from being signed: I couldn't hit, run, or throw. However, I looked great in a Yankee uniform. The kids found it hard to believe I looked great in pinstripes.

They laughed about the story in which I claimed their mother thought I should be a member of royalty. They did, however, agree that at times she probably wished to crown me. As a matter of fact, since I love hamburgers so much, she has dubbed me “Sirloin of Beef.” How's that for a royal title?

Most importantly, the kids knew this: Both their mother and I love each other, and we love them unconditionally. There was never any kidding about that.

Except for Sports, My Wife is Nearly Perfect

My wife is the most wonderful person I've ever met; she's intelligent, kind, generous, and hardworking. However, when we met, she had one glaring deficiency: she didn't know the difference between a baseball bat and a hockey stick. Unbelievably, sports had no place in her life.

The ancient Greeks and Romans were passionate about sports, despite some of their contests being brutal and inhumane. According to their writers, intellectuals, and religious leaders, the gods had created such events as wrestling, boxing, foot races, and even gladiator fights. How can anyone, I ask, ignore sports when they are created by the gods?

My idea of a fulfilling Saturday afternoon is to make a sandwich, pull a cold beverage from the refrigerator, and then settle down in front of the TV set to watch several hours of baseball, basketball, or football, depending upon the sporting season. (This is how sporting nuts view the seasons of the year. We do not need to refer to such antiquated terms as “November” or “Spring.”)

My wife shared a lack of passion with my father when it came to sporting events. Dad, who grew up an orphan during the Great Depression (What was so great about it?), had little time to play games or even learn about them, so during his adult years, he'd carefully read every section of the daily newspaper, including the advertisements, with one exception-he'd skip the sports edition.

I, on the other hand, fell head over heels in love with baseball, basketball, and football. Until my teenage years, we were the proud owners of one TV set, so when Dad came home, one could either watch what he had chosen or go do something else. (Mom also gave us a choice at mealtime: Take it or leave it.)

Dad worked on Saturdays, so if my favorite college basketball teams played in the daytime, I could leisurely watch them. However, if a game was played at night, I was out of luck. Then, Dad closed in our front porch, turning it into a fine extra room. Besides equipping it with a sofa and chairs, he added a portable TV set.

For some still unknown reason, he did not have a heat duct extended to the new enclosure, so in the winter, he stayed in the living room. Of course, that situation got the wheels turning in my little brain.

So when one of my teams played a night game, I'd put on my coat, hat, and gloves before secretly departing through the kitchen door. Carefully, I unlocked the door to the new room. Dad was sitting in his favorite recliner on the other side of the wall, so I couldn't turn on any lights or even turn the TV's volume much higher than a whisper. So, while sitting inches from the set and shivering uncontrollably, I watched the game before silently retreating to the kitchen.

By the age of ten, I could list the statistics of every Major League player, pro and college basketball performer, and football star. For instance, in 1961, baseball great Roger Maris hit .269 while knocking in 142 runs and hitting a then-record 61 home runs. Those memories seem to be impressive, but on the other hand, I have no idea what I ate for breakfast this morning. (Did I eat breakfast today?)

Then I married this most wonderful lady who barely knew anything about the world's three greatest sports. Naturally, I took it upon myself to educate her in this most important aspect of life. She's progressed, but still has a way to go.

Last week, she kept me shopping for a good hour after the big football game had started. Once at home, I made a peanut butter sandwich and grabbed a cold brew before rushing to the TV set. My honey came in a few minutes later, asking about the score. When I told her it was 0-0, she smiled and replied: “See, you didn't miss a thing.”

In a couple of days, her alma mater and my alma mater will go to war on the football field. I asked her which team she'll root for. Her answer: “I'm going to root for both.”

I can't wait until kickoff to see how she accomplishes this feat: “Catch it; no drop it! Intercept it; no, get a touchdown! That was an awful call; it was also a great call! Make that tackle! No, miss the tackle.”

Now I know how Dr. Frankenstein felt, for I've created a monster! What if this catches on and sports fans across the country begin rooting for their teams and their opponents? It's not natural, I say. 

Nothing but the Truth?

 As little kids, we were told that our two greatest presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, were always honest. Try as they may, they could not tell a lie. Somehow, I find that hard to believe.

First of all, we must remember that both Mr. Washington and Mr. Lincoln were politicians, and furthermore, Lincoln was a lawyer. I’m not saying that lawyers lie more often than do other members of society, but they do ignore or try to obliterate any part of the truth that might hurt their clients. Notice that Congress has strict penalties against lying to it, but some politicians have made a nice living by distorting the truth (members of both parties have been guilty).

There’s a funny commercial where Mrs. Lincoln asks her husband if a bustle on the back of her dress made her look fat. Poor Lincoln wanted to spare her feelings, and moreover, he tried to avoid his wife’s wrath. The poor guy finally admitted that it made her look “just a little” fat. No doubt the Great Emancipator slept on the sofa for several nights.

Supposedly, a young George Washington chopped down his father’s favorite cherry tree. When asked about the incident, George admitted to his father that he was the culprit. Thanks to his honesty, the story goes, George escaped punishment.

However, there’s another story about a boy who pushed the family outhouse over a cliff. The youngster admitted to his father that he had done the terrible deed. As the Old Man began to remove his belt to give the kid a good tanning, the son exclaimed: “Dad, when George Washington confessed to cutting down his father’s cherry tree, he was not punished.”

“This is different,” said the father. “George’s dad wasn’t in that cherry tree when it was chopped down.”

Imagine that your spouse has spent several hours preparing a special meal for your birthday. While he or she watches anxiously, you sample the steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and homemade bread. Unfortunately, the meal is not very good. Eating cardboard would have been an improvement.

You have two choices. You may decide to be brutally honest and say something like: “Thanks for spending all that time in the kitchen, dear, but to tell the truth, it didn’t taste very good. Sorry.“ Now you’ve upset your spouse; no doubt this will add an extra strain on the marriage, and you can bet that the bad place somewhere below us will freeze over before he or she ever does anything special for you again!

Here is the second option, the well-known “white lie:” “This was so thoughtful of you, dear! Did I like it? This was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! Thank you, sweetheart!” In this case, a statement that veers slightly off the road of truth has given a shot of self-esteem to your spouse, and you’ve earned some brownie points against the next time you forget to carry out the garbage or read the meter, or take out the dog.

There are times, of course, when one would be stupid to lie. Be perfectly honest when it comes to paying taxes. That way, you can sleep peacefully and know that you’ve paid your fair share. Don’t lie to the doctor. For example, don’t tell her you feel fine when in reality you’re having chest pains. And as I mentioned earlier, don’t lie whenever you’re under oath; judges, Congressmen, and other government types don’t take kindly to those kinds of actions.

But sometimes honesty is not the best policy. And that’s the truth!

Dear Gabby

 

• Have a problem? Write to “Dear Gabby” for insightful recommendations.

Dear Gabby: My wife has left me, and she took our dog with her. What shall I do?

I am so sorry for your tragic loss. A good dog is hard to replace. Perhaps, in time, you will recover to the point that your heart will be open to getting another one.

Dear Gabby: Every night I watch several news programs. Often, the politicians contradict one another. How can I tell when they're not being truthful?

Scientists have discovered a foolproof way to find out when politicians are lying. It's whenever they open their mouths.

Dear Gabby: I have horrible halotosis. I've tried every product on the market but to no avail. What can I do?

Learn to live with it. Remember, bad breath is better than no breath at all (then you would be dead.)

Dear Gabby: My wife calls me stupid nicknames. I hate them all. What should I do?

As long as she calls you for supper, don't worry about it.

Dear Gabby: My wife insists that I drive her mother to the senior center each day. How can I do this without losing my mind?

Perhaps you can find an old car that has a “rumble seat.”

Dear Gabby: I love popcorn, but my doctor has ordered me to eat no more than one bowl per day. That's not enough for me. Any suggestions?

Buy a larger bowl.

Dear Gabby: After years of back-breaking work, I purchased a coalmine and made a fortune. Now my wife wants a divorce. How much of my fortune do you think the judge will give her? What can I expect to keep?

If he/she is like most judges, she'll get the mine and you will get the shaft.

Dear Gabby: My wife says I'm two-faced. How should I respond?

Say to her: “Take a good look at me. If I had a second face, do you think I'd be wearing this one?”

Dear Gabby: I work with a guy who is a complete know-it-all jerk. What would you call such a person?

Boss.

Dear Gabby: When I met my future wife, I felt she was “Miss Right.” Now, three years later, I'm miserable. What could have gone wrong?

You did not realize her first name was “Always.”

Dear Gabby: My wife took me to a department store while she shopped for a new dress. After coming out of the dressing room, she asked if the outfit made her backside look big. Being honest, I answered in the affirmative. Now she won't talk to me. Where did I go wrong?

You went wrong by being truthful. If there is a Mrs. God, even He would fudge the truth in such a case. At times, honesty is not the best policy.

Dear Gabby: My wife was upset because she baked what she described as her worst bannana cream pie ever. Trying to help, I told her by far it was not her worst one. Then she smacked me in the face with the pie. Where did I go wrong?

You went wrong when you opened your pie-hole (mouth).

Dear Gabby: My friend told me that I'm better at bowling than I am at golf. I don't agree. What could be his reasoning?

Perhaps you lose fewer balls during a game of bowling than you do during a game of golf.

Dear Gabby: Do you believe in cow-tipping?

Absolutely. If she gives good service, give her a good tip. The same goes for pigs, chickens, goats, etc.