For the second time in a row, I was forced to impose on the woman with whom I carpooled to our children’s soccer practices.
I phoned and explained that my husband had the car again, so I wouldn’t be able to take my turn. A few minutes before she was due to pick up my son, my husband showed up. Since it was too late for me to call and say I could drive after all, I asked my husband to hide the car in the garage and to stay inside. I also explained to my son that he shouldn’t mention anything about his father’s whereabouts.
Unfortunately, my husband forgot and was in front of our house chatting with a friend when my carpool partner arrived. When my son returned from practice, I asked him if she had noticed.
“Yes,” he replied, “she asked me which of the two men in front of the house was my father. But don’t worry. I told her I didn’t know.”
In our Anglican church, each service begins with a greeting. The officiating clergyman says, “The Lord be with you.” The congregation used to respond by saying, “And with thy spirit.”
But, with the modernizing of the liturgy, the minister now says, “The Lord be with you,” and everyone responds with, “And also with you.”
One Sunday a visiting bishop went to a church where the sound system was known to be old and unreliable. As he approached the microphone, he tapped it several times and finally said, “There’s something wrong with this!”
Without hesitation, the whole congregation answered faithfully, “And also with you.”
My friend wanted a boat more than anything. His wife kept refusing, but he bought one anyway.
“I’ll tell you what,” he told her. “In the spirit of compromise, why don’t you name the boat?” Being a good sport, she accepted.
When her husband went to the dock for the maiden voyage, this is the name he saw painted on the side: “For Sale.”
The colonel who served as inspector general in our command paid particular attention to how personnel wore their uniforms. On one occasion he spotted a junior airman with a violation. “Airman,” he bellowed, “what do you do when a shirt pocket is unbuttoned?”
The startled airman replied, “Button it, sir!”
The colonel looked him in the eye and said, “Well?”
At that, the airman nervously reached over and buttoned the colonel’s shirt pocket.
“Chow looks wonderful,” I told the mess sergeant, a large, intimidating man. “I’d love seconds.”
“You’ll get the same as everyone else,” he growled as he chucked food on my tray. “Now move it!”
After finishing the edible portion of my meal, I dumped the rest in the garbage, accidentally tossing out my silverware. While leaning into the trash can to look for my knife and fork, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was the mess sergeant. “It’s all right, son,” he said. “You can grab seconds.”
An elderly married couple who were childhood sweethearts and had settled down in their old neighborhood, are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They walk down the street to their old school. There, they hold hands as they find the old desk they’d shared and where he had carved, “I love you, Sally.” On their way back home, an armored car drives by and a bag of money falls out of the armored car practically at their feet. Sally quickly picks it up, but they don’t know what to do with it so they take it home.
There, she counts the money, and it’s fifty thousand dollars. The husband says, “We’ve got to give it back.”
She says, “Finders keepers.” And she puts the money back in the bag and hides it up in their attic.
The next day, two FBI men are going door-to-door in the neighborhood looking for the money and show up at their home. They say, “Pardon me, but did either of you find any money that fell out of an armored car yesterday?”
She says, “No.”
The husband says, “She’s lying. She hid it up in the attic.”
She says, “Don’t believe him, he’s getting senile.”
But the agents sit the man down and begin to question him. One says, “Tell us the story from the beginning.”
The old man says, “Well, when Sally and I were walking home from school yesterday…”
The FBI guy looks at his partner and says, “Let’s get out of here.”