Squirrels, Bacon, God and the Devil

One thing I remember most about my grandmother was her sense of humor and stories. Even as a young girl, I repeated them to any willing audience.

My mother cautioned me. “Marie, just because your Grandma told you that, doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”

Now, my grandmother did not cuss. She was a woman of tremendous faith and, to my knowledge, never spoke or acted improperly, but my mother followed Emily Post to the letter. Body functions were never mentioned, and the particular story in question was a satire on Gone With the Wind…

Baby bean asked Mama bean, “What happened to Daddy?”

“Well, son he is Gone With the Wind…”

 My mother was horrified.

Other stories described everyday experiences, told with a humorous twist, such as the two hunters determined to live off the land. After several days with no success, except one small squirrel, they argued over who would eat it.

“Tell ya, what.” Frank said. “Let’s go to sleep, and the one who has the best dream gets the squirrel.”

Howard agreed.

Both men lay down, wrapped in old, tattered blankets against the chill night air, and dreamed.

Early the next morning, they compared their dreams while sitting around a small fire, bellies growling with anticipation.

Harold said, “I had the best dream by far. I dreamed I went to heaven on a sofa.”

Frank shook his head, “Naw. I had the best dream. I saw you going, and I got up and et the squirrel.”

Another described a Russian and a German hunting in the high country. They had poor luck and their provisions were running low. Down to one slab of bacon, not big enough for both men, the Russian suggested a tug of war.

“You bite one end. I’ll bite the other. The first to let go loses and the other gets to eat the bacon.”

“Agreed.”

The two men bit their respective ends of the slab.

Through clinched teeth, the Russian asked, “Is you ready?”

The German replied, “Yah.”

Are you still with me? Or are you shaking your head and thinking of closing the book?

Wait, the best is yet to come. I promise.

My favorite was the story of the two young boys picking walnuts on a hot August afternoon. After an hour, they filled a brown paper sack full of the nuts. They left the orchard, walking toward home along a narrow, dusty road. They were hot and thirsty. The overloaded sack was tearing. They passed a cemetery with huge shade trees and high green grass.

The older boy said, “This bag won’t hold all the way home. Let’s go in, sit in the shade and divide these walnuts.”

The younger one nodded. “I could sure sit in the cool shade for a while.”

They crossed over the fence using the stile (steps built over the fence to facilitate crossing from one side to the other). Two walnuts fell from the bottom of the bag and landed on the top step.

The older boy said, “Let’s leave those and pick them up on our way back.”

“Fine with me. I just want to sit down in that cool grass.”

The boys walked several yards into the cemetery and collapsed beneath a huge willow.

Tearing the sack open, the older boy divided the walnuts. “One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.”

A pair of Winos came down the road. They stopped beside the stile, leaned against its worn wood, and passed a bottle back and forth.

From inside the graveyard, they heard a voice. “One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.”

One Wino elbowed the other. “Hey, hear that? That’s God and the Devil in there dividin’ up those poor souls.”

The other man’s eyes widened as he listened.

“One for you. One for me. One for you. One for me.”

Beneath the willow tree, the boys had finished dividing the nuts.

The older boy said, “Well, that about does it for the ones in here. Let’s get the two out by the stile.”

When the boys reached the fence and collected the last two walnuts, the older one noticed the Winos. “Hey, look at them! They’re running as if the devil was chasin’ ‘em!”

If you aren’t giggling, or at least smiling, you have no sense of humor, at least not for old, maybe somewhat corny jokes. God bless you, anyway.

All that aside, if we are created in God’s image, then we must have gotten our sense of humor from Him. Don’t you think?