Hi All - My Dad is very sick and is in the hospital. The experience inspired this story:

Sick Wit -- Draft 1

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In many families, people debate and discuss their way through problems. This is not the case in mine. We run as far away from confronting them as possible. In my family, we communicate by telling jokes.

Having an issue with someone? Don’t think about it; tell a riddle instead. Mad at a sibling? Why discuss it? Better to just impersonate them behind their back. Family member having meltdown in public? Divert attention, and tell a cute story about something… anything.

Deflect from the situation at hand. It’s a lot easier than actually dealing with it, and much more fun.

So, we tell jokes. The short ones are easy to remember. Puns are good, because they make you stop and think for a second. Goofy ones are always welcome. And Jewish humor is a favorite.

My Dad will repeat the same joke over and over again… and over again. We all know the punchline. There’s no surprise to it. However, there’s a familiarity in the repetition of the joke; we get to see Dad being Dad. “What do you call a deer with no eyes?” he will ask over and over. I’m not sure whether it’s to engage with him or to get him to stop repeating himself that makes me say back, “No idea.”

Over the years, I’ve found that in addition to its pain-avoidant properties, this joke telling has had glue-like bonding tendencies. And recently, I’ve come to appreciate another property of joke telling, its medicinal qualities.

Dad has had Parkinson’s Disease for 16 years, and over time, like any progressive disease, it’s gotten worse and worse. And now -- Dad’s in the hospital. He went in with one condition, and has developed other complications while he’s been there.

It’s tough to see him laying in bed, day after day. The reality of Parkinson’s Disease is that you tell your body to do one thing, and it refuses. Or it does the opposite. It’s like a horrible little child. It wants to nap all day, talk in gibberish, and drool all over your shirt.

My Dad’s been in the hosp for over three weeks at this point. And as the Parkinsons advances, the horrible child takes over. The doctors keep it back as much as possible with the meds. But some days, if the medicines are not in control, the horrible child is winning.

I visit Dad often. He’s always sleeping, despite the constant noise and buzz going on in the hospital room and hallway; he can’t keep his eyes open. He sleeps all day, and not waking or eating. I’m doing everything I can think of, to get him to open his eyes and wake up. Calling out to him, playing music for him.

So what do I do next? I sit next to his bed and tell him jokes.

“Dad, what do you call a deer with no eyes?...." "What do you get if you cross an elephant and a rhinoceros?”

No response. Dad continues to lay there, with his eyes closed, not hearing me. Then, just like him, I start repeating the jokes, this time giving him the punchlines to see whether they will jog his memory, or elicit any response:

“What do you call a deer with no eyes? No idea.”

“What do you get if you cross and elephant and a rhinoceros? Eleph-ino!”

“Why aren’t there any Wal-Marts in Afghanistan? They all became Targets!!”

Again, nothing.

Then, after a while, I see his lips move. I hear a small voice say something like: “I’d just keep the tips.”

I can’t make out what he’s saying. “What, Dad?” I ask. “I’d just keep the tips,” I definitely hear him say again.

At first, I have no idea what he is saying. Is he having a Parkinsons episode? What’s he murmuring about?

Then I recall a joke from many years back. I stand up and yell to him, “If I was a moil I’d perform circumcisions for free!!”

Now there’s silence all around me. The hum of the room falls quiet. The nurses and aides have all stopped what they were doing, and stare at me. From the edge of the curtain shielding the patient in the next bed, I see pairs of surprised eyes glaring out.

And from his bed, with his eyes still closed, I hear Dad repeat the punchline, “And I’d just keep the tips.”

I can see he is very proud of himself. The corners of his mouth are slowly heading upward in a thin, shaky smile.

There was a lot of healing in Dad’s room today. Tomorrow I’m going to focus on more hospital-appropriate humor.

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Animal Attraction and Other Dangerous Activities -- Draft 4B

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It started out like any other encounter: the humans pay, we dolphins perform. I knew this little girl had chosen me. Through the crowd, I could hear her saying, “Look! That one is smiling at me!”

Smiling?... Hah! My mouth is just bent that way. Please don’t read into it. But I mean -- have you ever seen a picture where I’m NOT smiling? Think about it.

Then suddenly -- she’s right in front, and she’s reaching for my blowhole. I know she wants to touch it. Bad.

Oooh….. if I could get her underwater, to my cave. We’d be all alone. She could see how strong I am when I’m not in this stupid little….

Wait – hello? What am I thinking? I’m stuck here at work. My carefree bachelorhood days are done.

So there we were. Things were about to get out of hand. But what do you expect when you put 2 hot-blooded mammals together? Some shit is bound to go down.

I concentrate and give her my best. She’s leading me on, so I take the bait. …More precisely, I eat the bait. Squid, shrimp. Small crustaceans. That’s my jam.

Then suddenly -- no, no, no!!!!!! – she’s lifting the white plate!! Yummy fish, where are you going???

Instinctively, I jump up and reach for the plate. Oh, and, yes -- her hand, too. Ooops.

What the hell happened?? She knew the fucking rules. And her big people??? They knew the rules too!

Rules are there for a reason. Without rules… we might as well be just a bunch of scumbag swordfish. Swimmin’ around, no morals, no code. She’s just a little girl, she can’t be trusted to get it right on her own. Why’d her big people leave her? They should have been there too, instead of shooting that kinky video they posted on the internet.

I bet they’ll never let her see me again.

The sting of tears hits my saltwater eyes. I dive under and shake free of the memories.

I think of the little girl. And then I think more about small crustaceans.

I hear noise, and swim up. I remind myself, “Today’s a new day.” From down front, I see another little kid coming at me with his big people. They've got a white plate. Mackerel, herring. Small crustaceans. Just the way I like it.

They don’t know my past. They look right at me, and I feel innocent again. Plus I can smell the crustaceans.

I smile. (…I mean I have no other choice, do I?)

The one holding the plate is a boy. He smiles back. I hone in on the plate and sidle up right in front of him. I start munching.

But this time I keep one eye fixed on the boy and his big people. I hope they’re not gonna be dicks like the last bunch.

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Here is Draft 3 –

ANIMAL ATTRACTION AND OTHER DANGEROUS ACTIVITIES

By Jean Candiotte

It was another hot, sticky day. It started out like any other encounter. Through the crowd, I could hear her saying, “That one is smiling at me!”