Here's a joke I heard the other night while at happy hour.
Father McLaughlin was holding service on Sunday, preaching from the pulpit on the subject of death and eternal life. After 20 minutes of preaching on sin and souls, and angels and St. Peter, he thought he needed to wake up the audience up and so he asked a question.
"How many people here believe in ghosts ?"
The congregation stirred, looked at each other and about 100 people raised their hands.
"That's interesting", father said, "It turns out that many people believe in ghosts. It is not uncommon, but some people claim to have more intimate experiences. How many of you also believe you have SEEN a ghost?"
About 25 people kept their hands up.
There was some murmuring, but father continued. "That is fascinating", father said. "but I have read that people sometimes report of the strangest of experiences with the afterlife. Experiences that would challenge anyone's belief system. Is there anyone here who has had sex with a ghost?"
Everyone put their hands down except one man. Sitting in the front row was Michael O'Callahan, an rather old, thin man with white hair and a cane.
"Michael", father said. "Saints above! I've known you since I came to this parish 50 years ago. We have talked and had many a pint together at the pub. I would think by now that you would have told me of having sex with a ghost".
"A GHOST ?", Michael said, "I thought you said a GOAT".
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There is nothing good about growing old. Except for maybe one thing - which this joke points out. As your ears deaden and the clarity of others' words are dimmed and you fill in the blanks with best guesses, there can be humor in that which you misinterpret.
And so it was that I was sitting with my Aunt Helen and her husband Bob, watching TV in their living room one evening last week. They are both in their 70s and Bob can't hear very well, so the TV is turned up really LOUD. I was barely paying attention to the show that was on, something about Merlin and Druids and a woman looking too sexy for the middle ages, and some kind of cockamamie rescue of the boy from a medieval castle dungeon. As the scene was showing a man and a boy walking out of the dungeon, Bob turned to Helen and I heard him say,
"I see he has a woodie."
I suddenly focused, did a double take, and looked at each character on TV with disbelief, half examining, half hoping I didn't see anything. Then I looked back to Helen and Bob, also with disbelief, as I heard Helen say to Bob,
"Yes he does."
I looked at the characters again. I did not see anyone with a woodie and in fact, one was a 9 year old boy. And what were these old relatives of mine saying to each other in my presence anyway?
And then it dawned on me...
the kid is wearing a HOODIE
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