April 10, 2006
Everybody's talking at me
The looks that pass between us, the sly grins, the cheeky smiles and the flat out guffaws that you emit sometimes drive me wild.
I think that it's possible that we'll keep this connection. I certainly hope so. I know that with my dad, there's a particular way that he can hold his head, a glint that he can get in his eye that will send me and my siblings into hysterics every time.
I know, of course, that you're going to spend at least a couple of years in your mid teens in which you'll think I'm the most boring and ridiculous man on the planet, but at some stage subsequent to that (and probably only after you have your own children, in the case of a particular subset of humour known as 'dad jokes'), you'll start to laugh at me again. I mean laugh with me again.
Being a person who is not caught up with the beleif that certain portions of one's life can be shared with only one parent (and being blessed, punkin blessed, with rather more than the normal complement of parental people in my life), it's my great joy to bring you the best dad joke I've ever had the pleasure to hear, and it's not one that was told to me by your grandad.
Your grammy, who along with being rowdy, also has a substantial collection of terribly amusing jokes and riddles, with one in particular being such a perfect example of the ouvre that I feel obliged to repeat it here, in the hope that I won't be exposed to any undue problems from its publication, and in the hope that, at least for the next few months, and again about 25 years after that, you'll think it's funny.
Q: What's the difference between a librarian and a butcher?
A: One cuts up meat, and the other one stamps books.