A Sense of Humor

All of my life, I have always been drawn to people with a sense of humor...people who love to laugh, love good jokes, love humorous situations. My closest friends all have a wonderful sense of humor.
I believe in these sayings:
"Laughter is the Music of the Soul"
"Laughter is Contagious"
I think that a Sense of Humor is one of our greatest gifts...the ability to laugh at things that are funny, and even the ability to laugh at things that are sublte.... not everyone will 'get' everything, but that's okay. I believe everyone has a sense of humor, everyone has the ability to laugh...it is those who are just naturally funny, those who have that certain joy of finding a phrase or concept that can just be laughed at....
I think that a sense of humor is also a kind of survival. Many stand-up comics and well known comedians will readily tell stories of their unhappy or abusive childhoods, and how their sense of humor saved them, and how they turned to humor to alleviate their personal pain.
This is why I think humor is given to us for survival...but most of all... or at least ...to experience Joy.
Speaking of humor, I admire people who have natural "Wit"....Wit is something like being able to sing well, or play a musical instrument. Wit ......an ability to come up with a phrase, a response, or a comment instantaneously that is extremely funny.
I think that Wit is a certain social intellegence.
I consider myself lucky to have known many people who have WIT!
I have a friend who can hold a room in the palm of her hand with her funny stories.
Two guys I worked with made an an industry of their wit...they put it on radio.
A friend from college is Wit pesonified...
Another friend has a sense of humor that combines a natural wit, and also an appreciation of the subtle things that are hilarious, we have shared personal laughs and inside jokes to this day.
Anyway, I just wanted to mention that my parents always had a great sense of humor also. They Loved to laugh.
When they visited me, Thanksgiving of 2001, little did we know that my dad would be gone three weeks later.
But as we sat on the couch, the Three Stooges were on, and he LOVED them.
It was the one where they wanted to be pilots, and Moe got stuck on the propeller and spun around and got thrown through
the wall and a paint bucket landed on his head. My dad laughed SO hard!
And I laughed with him...not so much at the Stooges, but just with my dad, sharing and recognizing his joy.

My Truck

I bought a Toyota Pickup 4 X 4....way back on August 5, 1984, it was the first puchase of a NEW vehicle I had ever bought...it was scary, and I kind of felt myself at the mercy of these 'car salesmen'....but I bought it, and I think it was the best thing I ever bought. I've owned many cars between now and then, but this truck was the best.
In 1990, my dad was in need of a truck, and by that time, my need of this pickup was done, I said, "why don't you just take mine?" and he did....he made it his own truck, he drove the hell out of it...from 1990 to 2001. And then when he died, it sat there collecting dust....Now it's back mine again, this truck...Dirty, in need of service, in need of a wash, but the damn thing still runs...I love this thing, we go back.

The Roses

Back in the 70's and 80's, one of my favorite bands was Journey. They were a pop band that had some hits, mostly derided by critics and 'hard rock' fans but I always liked them, their tunes were melodic and I liked Steve Perry's voice, the lead singer.
Recently after the move, I decided to treat myself to some dvd's, and I picked up a Journey dvd. It's mostly concert footage and some old MTV type videos, which is amusing to see, what we (or they) thought was cool and fashionable back then....
Over time, the original band Journey broke up. Steve Perry had back and hip problems, and his mom was sick, so he moved to Visalia, California...a town in the Central Valley. I hear he is back in the studio, which is cool.
My mom lives nearby in Tulare, and I visit her there. One time a few years ago, maybe 2001, we drove to Visalia and went to a brew pub. I asked the bartender about Steve Perry, "oh yeah he comes in here...all he talks about is his glory days, he says, "you know, I used to perform in front of 50,000 people, and now here I am in this small pub"....
It made me think of the phrase, 'stop and smell the roses'....I can easily empathise with what Perry must have thought....I too look back to my 'glory' days, when I would attend MacWorld and actually sign autographs on Tetris boxes. But that's in the past now, and even then, it was like riding in a car going 100 mph and somebody says, "ooooh, did you see that tree back there? that wonderful rose bush?" Maybe that's why some of us look back with envy of those times, we should have enjoyed them more.
So now that I have a bit of time, I will certainly enjoy and savor each moment even more.
Aside from the metaphor, There are tons of real roses around here where I live now, and on my walks I stop and smell them, and they smell beautiful.

Lucky Man

When I drove back from the grocery store, a song came on the radio, "Lucky Man" by Emerson Lake and Palmer.....and I began to think of how truly Lucky I am....lucky to have found this home for me and the kitty to live in, lucky to have good friends, but mostly lucky for my good health, and 'coping skills' and a sense of resolve, continuation, and survival.
You see, I've had a few bad experiences over the past couple of years, some sorta bad, and even some heartbreaking, sometimes I would feel despair...But even through all this, I've had my friends and family to talk to, and I even prayed some...and it helps...I think it even worked.
I consider myself a Lucky Man. I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and a sweet kitty who wakes me up each morning. I am a Lucky Man indeed.

My Pal Gus

I'm still not finished moving, so my daily routine consists of driving to a storage place and collecting my boxes of stuff. Today on my way down, I needed some gas, so I stopped at Chevron station and backed in. I spotted something moving in the passenger side mirror and it was a little dog. A small brown chihuahua. Awww, what a cool little dog I thought. So as I was pumping gas, I noticed the dog looking up at a car and the people in it were looking at him, "bye buddy! where's your family?" I looked at a guy in the car and he looked at me and shrugged, like, "he's not ours" So they drove off.
So there he sat by the gas pump, all alone. I tried to pet him but he shied away. Then he stepped forward again and looked up at me, as if to ask where his family was. He looked lost and lonely, and I immediately felt bad for him, and worried. Soon other people would drive up to get gas. One lady got out and said, "Is that your dog?"
"No, I think somebody just left him here." The name 'Gus' popped in my head, so I called him Gus...
She tried to pet him too, but he shied away again, but he never left the island where the gas pumps were. I considered taking him with me, but when I would approach him, he would back away, like a child who was instructed to stay away from strangers.
So I drove off, thinking of nothing except Gus. Poor little guy, alone and confused. I called my friend who gave me the number of the Animal Shelter, so I called them and left a message of where to find Gus.
While loading boxes, all I kept thinking about was Gus, where did he come from? What was his home like? He probably wished he was home, with his bed, and his favorite toys. Maybe his family just forgot him, and would be back soon.
On the way back, I couldn't help but drive back to the station, to see if he was still there. If he was, then I was going to personally take him to the shelter, even if he didn't want to go. So when I got there, he was gone. Back with his family I hoped, or on his way to somewhere safe.
So from now on, I'll always remember my pal Gus.

Tad's Steaks

While I've been unpacking, I came across a blue dinner plate with a 'Tad's Steaks' logo. I remember buying it in an antique store. It was one those automatic purchases that required no thinking or debating, as soon as I saw it, I had to buy it.
Tad's is a small steakhouse on Powell Street in San Francisco. I've been going there my entire life.
When I was little, my parents and I would make a special trip to the City to go Chrismas shopping, and sometimes on other occaisions we'd go up there, and always we would eat at Tad's.
The place hasn't changed at all in the 40 plus years I've been going there. You walk in and grab a tray and go straight to the grill. The main chef always says, "Hello, what are you having?" I always order a steak, medium....you can order other things, like chicken, ribs, salmon...but I have never ordered anything but the steak. They are T-bones with a baked potato, salad, and garlic bread. Always delicious.
I remember going there when I was little, and seeing the chefs behind the grill. They wore those tall paper chef hats and had a certain flair to what they did....they would grab a steak from the cooler and flip it in the air a couple of times as they threw it on the grill, or grab a plate and spin it on their fingertip. That's what I wanted to do when I grew up.
One time when I was about 5, I insisted on carrying my own tray for the first time. My mom didn't like the idea and urged that my dad take my tray to the table, or have a busboy help out, like they always had before. My dad said, "no, let him do it"
So as my parents were seated, I carried my own tray, but it was heavy and it began to slide from side to side...then Whoomp...there went the salad and glass of milk...I could see the people at other tables turn and look, and hear things like, "awwww, he dropped it..." It was at that moment that I learned what it means to me embarrassed in public. I tried to balance the tray on my knee as I picked up the salad, but by that time my dad and a couple of busboys were already coming to my rescue.

Over the years, my parents and I always went back to Tad's. Not necessarily because we liked their steaks more than anywhere else, but mostly out of tradition. I think because the place has not changed at all for over 40 years, and when everything else changes, it is somehow comforting to go to a place that remains the same, thereby reminding you of a comforting time.
Even the wallpaper, though replaced over the years, is still the same red design...the tables with the condiments and variety of steak sauces on each table is still the same...also the full-length mirror in the back where I once asked, "why is there a mirror there?" and my mom said, "so people can see how fat they are after eating a big dinner."
I think of that moment when I still go there and see that mirror, and a thousand other moments..... I went there with my dad a few years ago, just before he passed away, and out of the blue he said, "Remember that time you wanted to carry your own tray and you dropped it? You actually tried to clean it up yourself, like a little man, I was so proud of you."

These are the kinds of memories I have when I go to Tad's.