I grew up in a little Wyoming town called Laramie. At about the age of Eight, I learned one of my life’s Great Lessons: “Even the meanest, most sadistic kids on the playground have a sense of humor. If you can make them laugh, they won’t hurt you.” So I began to memorize jokes. Just as a kid who loves baseball and practices his game will eventually get better at it, so I practiced at the fine art of poking fun without getting poked in the nose. Then the second Great Lesson came to me: “A true story will always get a bigger laugh than a made-up joke.” I was fortunate to have come from a family of characters who seemed to lurch from one minor disaster to the next. Add to those my bumbling and callow teenage self and I had a goldmine of eye-rolling stories to choose from. As I grew into young adulthood, my life got crazier, not the reverse. Either I was fated to repeatedly stumble into odd and humiliating situations, or I was deliberately setting myself up – subconsciously hoping that good story might come out of it.
I recently decided to write a bunch of these stories down in a blog. Welcome! These stories have been my social capital for years. I sometimes wonder, when they’ve all been written down, if I will have anything left to say. Or will I sit quietly in the corner, suck my teeth, and make rude noises like most other old men?