Ounce A Pawn A Thyme

Misreading and Purposeful Humor

(This piece was written and posted first at vocal.media, a site I have been using for several years for regular feedback and interaction with other writers, many of whom are more mature and some of whom are less hobbyish than I.)

I can’t recall how I found Vocal Media. When I did, the stars shone brightly in my eyes. Dreams of winning challenges danced in my head. Cha-ching, cha-ching was the song they sang. Then I wrote my first piece, crashed to earth, oh dang. Tried again, burned up. Once more. Gave up. Glassy-eyed, I knew I’d never crack the top two, so what would I or should I or could I do?

To quote Robin Williams as the genie in Aladdin when he was trying to get the title character to act naturally for his best results, “Bee yourself.” It stung to learn I’m not a high-falutin’ writer who’ll win challenges and supplement my income via this platform. Well, it stung for a moment or two. I can accept reality rather quickly.

So, I moved on. I write what I want, how I want, and if someone else likes it, then hooray. If not, then that’s fine, too. I write because I like it. I write because I’m moved to express my mind. Sometimes, I’m serious or sad. Other times, I’m goofy or donald. At all times, I practice the idea that neither I nor anyone else should take me too seriously, especially when I’m clearly being tongue-in-cheek, sarcastic, or punning (the last of which is always intentional).

When I was a boy (in the pre-Internet era), I frequently misread words or phrases and discovered humor where none was intended. I often wondered if my misreads were carelessness or some learning disorder. I have no answer even now, for I still do it. I’m an avid reader, too, so seeing “touch” where someone wrote “tough,” or “I kissed my brother under the table,” where someone wrote “I kicked my brother under the table,” leads to deranged comprehensions. This often creates fun interactions on social media platforms, too. If I can comment to make others laugh, I will.

My wife is not enamored with puns. However, we were friends for five years before she married me, so she knew full well that plays on words, puns, and dad jokes would be part of her marriage. I may be sheepish at times, but I did not pull the wool over her eyes on that, no matter how baa-d my jokes may be. And as much as she ignores my jokes, rolls her eyes, groans, or occasionally growls at me when they become too much, she delivers some zingers of her own. Heaven help me if I don’t laugh uproariously at her puns!

On occasion, we will be of one mind in a situation that calls for humor, but nothing is forthcoming. We both begin a joke, but when we fail to succeed, we conclude with, “There’s a joke in there somewhere.” That’s when I know we are in sync, and it reminds me of the meme of the porcelain basin and stand on the doorstep with the caption, “Let that sink in.” Ba-dum, tss.

We have been married for more than 28 years, and to say that humor has been significant in the success of our marriage would be an understatement akin to saying that the public discussion of politics and religion can sometimes cause friction between people. Without humor, we’d have given up a long time ago. It’s not the most crucial factor for us, but it has made life much easier.

While I like puns and dad jokes, she’s into the snark and sarcasm. Our kids have struggled to know what’s what sometimes. Are we serious? Are we kidding? So, they’ve turned the tables on us as they’ve aged. When I’m about to blow my top at my younger one, he’ll say, “That was a joke, Dad. Not a dad joke. Just a joke, Dad.” Then it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Then I have to ask him to roll them back to me.

Our older son has some intellectual and developmental challenges, but he has grown into a snarky wit rather well. One of his best is when his mother said something to him several months ago, and he replied, “Yeah. I get that a lot…from old people.” Since then, whenever she or I says something to him, he tags his replies with the same comment. “I get that a lot from old people.” The last time he said it to me, I reminded him that he lives in my house, eats my food, and we drive him wherever he needs to go. He just grinned and chuckled. He’s 20.

The Mack S o H (Sense of Humor) runs in my family, though it’s strongest in my brother and me. Our sisters are not overly fond of it, but they can be counted on to contribute from time to time. Big Brother and I can start a thread of puns, needle each other with it, get in stitches, and sew it up in no time, when we’re bolting for the yard or telling a yarn. We make them up out of whole cloth, if necessary. It’s not for nothing that our nicknames are Big Bother and Little Bother.

All of this boils down to why I continue to write on Vocal Media. I have these gerbils, squirrels, or hamsters running on the wheels in my head all the time, turning the gears, and sometimes they squeak so much (the animals or the gears) that I have to release the thoughts I generate in writing. This is the only place I can do that consistently. (Lucky y’all.)

Whether it’s humorous, serious, ponderous, or otherwise all for us, my thoughts take a tumble onto the screen. You read them, or you don’t. You like them or hate them, or you are ambivalent. I preserve my mental and emotional health, and that’s my why, as the kids say these days.

God bless and be well. Thanks for stopping by. Till we meet again, I am affectionately and occasionally slightly addledly (I know that’s not a word) yours,

Mack D. Ames, erstwhile hobbyist writer extraordinaire, tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek