"Seize the day. Remember all those women on the Titanic who passed on the dessert plate." - Erma Bombeck

That' a REALLY long hall!

Without a doubt the significant part of my day was the hour-plus I spent with JR and Emily talking about tomorrow’s funeral for Eloise. I am blessed with the opportunity to, in situations like this, see inside the heart(s) of those who hurt. It’s an honor to listen to their deepest emotions put to words and I hope I always respect that exchange when it happens. Good people, Mr. & Mrs. Farr.

I told them that my love for children plus my Scandinavian heritage guarantees I’ll struggle with my emotions during the service. But we agreed that’s OK, yea, as it should be. There’s something irresistibly sad and tender about the death of a child, especially a child like Eloise.

This afternoon I thought through what I want to do with our Pathway kids during Kids Time Sunday morning. Ya’ think I’ll look at them a little differently as we sit together on the floor?

I spent most of the afternoon and early evening hanging out with my folks. It’s tough to see them fight the deterioration of aging.
Maranatha.

In the elevators here they have those clear plastic holders that take a sheet of paper, four in each elevator. They put sheets in each day that announce upcoming activities here, or the menu in the dining room, or...I’m guessing if they don’t have anything substantive...a clever quote. (see the one above which I snagged out of elevator #2)

As I rode the elevator up to the folks’ unit a young guy was changing the sheets in that elevator. I did my best to set him up with a fat one:
“How’s business?”

OK, he’s used to talking to really old people losing their grip on reality, which probably explains why he just said, “It’s fine.”

“No, you’re working in an elevator. You’re supposed to say ......” (can you finish it with the definitive response?)

Which got me to thinking about the changing face of humor in American. Here’s my take on things:
The joke is dead.

It used to be a good joke would make anyone laugh out loud, or at least get a big grin. And by good I mean one with a degree of cleverness, a turn of phrase, or sometimes just verbal slapstick. But it was a joke - a story with a punch line. These days if you tell a joke to an audience under 60 they just look at you. “That was supposed to be funny?”

I think I know what happened. I think the proliferation of comedy clubs killed the joke. Now humor is one-liners or story telling.
“So yesterday my boyfriend said to me...” and on it goes from there.
And in the sitcom it’s the clever retort, the one-liner that uses sarcasm or deprecation to mock someone.
The story joke is all but dead.
And that’s too bad because a funny story well told is a thing of beauty.
I was raised in a very Scandinavian neighborhood in north Seattle where the Swedes told jokes about the Norwegians and visa versa. Sven & Ole jokes. Those were funny.
Now? Not so much.

And then there’s the one about the old man who goes into restroom and comes back to the table at the restaurant with the front of his pants soaking wet.
“Jake, what in the world happened?”

I’d give you the punch line but you wouldn’t think it’s funny.