Visiting my parents is like walking onto the set of a sitcom. This morning while my mother was outside potting her pink hibiscus she was interrupted by her neighbor Herbie and she just had to bring him in for an introduction. On his way back from the health fair at the community's club house, Herbie reported, "attendance was low". "Nobody is interested in getting bad news," was my father's retort. "I got a quick joke, and it's not dirty", Herbie said as if my young ears might be offended by risque material. Herbie's the kind of guy who keeps a catalog of jokes in his mind, and replenishes the stock often. This tale of a 80 year old woman, on the eve of marrying her fourth husband, ended with "one for the money, two for the show, three for the ready and four for the go" and a little two step. His pacing and delivery were perfect, and most importantly the punch line got laughs. Herbie was gone as quickly as he arrived. "He's got an interesting story", my father said as soon as the door slammed, "used to work for the mob." "What?" "Well he used to work on the docks, and those guys dealt with the mob." I'm sure Herbie and his jokes did just fine.
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