by Susie Lofton

I had a funny dream the other night. It was so funny that I woke up laughing out loud. My better-half has done the same. Although, when he told me about his dream, I was left more than literally in the dark. I got tickled and laughed at him more than with him. But, now that I think on it, my dream wasn't so funny either, now that I am awake and try to recall it. I guess you'd have to have been there.

Timing has a tremendous impact on whether your cake is done, how long it takes you to perform routine daily tasks, how well you play a musical piece, or as in this case; tell a joke. Red Skelton comes to mind. He would tell a joke, get tickled at it, add to the already funny punchline, laugh and tell more. One might call it a rolling joke. Unlike the rolling stone that gathers no moss, his rolling jokes gathered more laughs as it rolled. I guess you'd have to have been there.

Why, is it that place has a lot to do with timing? For instance, if you are in a controlled, serene situation that something can suddenly become so funny that it literally hurts. In my earlier years, much earlier, an acquaintance of mine and my co-workers  passed away. Several of us attended the funeral. There we sat, about five of us, when the one sitting in the middle stomach growls, rather loudly. No disrespect was intended, but something like that is uncontrollable, and so was the much suppressed snickers that followed. In any other place, no one would have given it a second thought, but

something about the place and timing had the five of us in knots. I guess you'd have to have been there.

Something that my sister, Margaret, and I still laugh about happened about twenty-seven years ago. We were in a Bible training class sponsored by the general church. It was a session of classes where minister's and laity can attend and study a variety of church related subjects including; Bible, church doctrine, church business, and pastoral among others. One day, during one of the Bible classes the instructor was going over several questions of which we were to be tested. He would ask a question and someone in the class would give the answer. One question went something like this; "What two Old Testament patriarchs were instrumental in setting the stage for Bible instructions?" Excitedly I raised and waved my hand vigorously. The instructor acknowledged me by nodding my way. Bursting with enthusiasm and excitement I answered, "Moah and Noses!" The whole class had a big laugh, but not as much as my sister and I, we were nearly hysterical. Long after everyone else stopped laughing, we were still holding our sides and did not dare look at each other. It was so bad that the instructor looked our way several times as we stifled our giggles. Even today, if I say those two words in conjunction with each other, I pause and make certain I say them properly. I guess you'd have to have been there.

Everyone needs a hero. Mine is my big brother Earl. In fact, he is my sister Margaret and brother John's hero. A hero he truly is. He spent three tours of duty in Viet Nam where he received various medals for injuries sustained in the line of duty. Once Nam was over, he along others were given these medals during a ceremony at Camp Pendleton. There they were, the Marine Corps Marching Band, the servicemen, the brass, and the proud families; all gathered for this auspicious occasion. As one of the speakers took the podium to address the gathering a small child's voice rang loudly and clearly throughout the stands, "But, Mama, where's Gomer?"