Don’t be Obstreperous

It is said the gift of tears is a curse. Being afflicted by this I would have to agree, but say that being clever is also a curse. More specifically, being quick-witted.

There is power in words and no one knows this better than a comedian. Saying just the right thing with just the right timing is a gift.

Back in the day, George Carlin was a master at this. His monologues were thought-provoking and he often challenged us to see what we were saying. One skit that sticks out in my mind is called Words We Use. He focuses on oxymorons; two words linked together that have opposite meanings. 

Pushing the hair out of his eyes, and scratching his chin through his ragged beard he says two words: jumbo shrimp. He pauses, and lifting his eyebrows scans the room to see the audience's reaction. This seems to humor him more than his punchline. He goes on to mention a few other combinations and ends his skit with plastic glass. Hilarious!

Present day, Jim Gaffigan has the same type of humor. His Christmas skit really makes one wonder about our customs. In his shrill voice, he talks about cutting a tree from the outdoors and bringing it inside the house while at the same time, we take lights from inside the house and put them outdoors. My laughter is interrupted with thoughts of “hunh, that does sound silly”

In the first few minutes of the Carol Burnett show she fields questions from a live audience. This segment is unscripted and often the funniest part of the show. One night, a guest star was with her during one of these segments and said, “I wish I could be that funny. Carol just hears things a little off.” And as she says that, she turns an imaginary dial.

The way Carol responds to the audience is a testament to her brilliant mind. Her timing is perfect. There are no lags, nor pauses, she comes right out with something absolutely hysterical. She thinks funny, therefore she speaks funny. No translation happens in her mind, comedy is her first language. 

While in no way I would compare myself to Carol Burnett (although she does have a great first name), I think funny. This has gotten me into and out of more trouble than I would like to admit! 

One example happened over thirty years ago. My ex-husband was in the National Guard and had to report to the Air Force Base at all hours of the day and night. On one Sunday, his superior called me at just past five o’clock in the morning. He could not see my husband and wondered if I knew where he was. I told him he was at the Base. His superior repeated that he was not there. Unsure how I could help him, I answered, “He’s wearing his camouflage. He is there, you just can’t see him.” That was the last time I received a phone call from his superior.

This quick-wittedness comes with practice, lots of it. When I was younger I couldn’t help myself, if I found something funny I had to say so, almost like it was my job. My parents were not thrilled. As a result, I was probably the one child who communicated the most with my father, albeit one-way.

“Don’t be such a wise guy,” and “Don’t be obstreperous,” were the two lines Dad would say to me. Hey, we were talking! It got to be that when Dad heard my voice (you couldn’t miss it!), he responded with either of those lines. Most of the time he had a reason to answer in that way, but not always. It just got to the point that it was a reflex, like watching someone get hit on the kneecap with a rubber hammer. Bang, kick…bang, kick.

Dad and I shared something else unique to us, a bond of faith. All of us siblings are professed in our faith, but Dad and I shared something just a step above. He could talk to me about those things and know I would understand. One day, as we passed a portrait of the Holy Family, he stopped and pointed at it, “That’s what I want on my card.” I nodded. He didn’t need to say anything more. We both knew he meant the card handed out at wakes. 

Many times he told me his favorite passage in the Bible: 1Corinthians 13:1-8, God is Love. I placed that on the back of his card. One day at church, when I noticed him wholeheartedly singing a song without looking at the words, I jotted down the title on the bulletin, and saved it. That would go in the file and a good thing it did. 

It was early November 2019 when I returned to my pew at St. George’s after receiving Communion. Perched upright on the hard pad of the kneeler, I watched each person as they walked by. Usually, I spend this time in prayer, but I knew almost all of the people, and I was in the front row. This was Dad’s funeral.  

Taking our seats, the church grew silent as the vocalist sang a chilling rendition of Be Thou My Vision, the song Dad sang all those years ago. It was then that I searched for my father. Begging the Holy Spirit for some type of communication, I heard three familiar words, “Don’t be obstreperous.”

Really? That’s what I get? You have got to be kidding! But then I quickly realized Dad was speaking only to me. He knew I would recognize him in those words. It was him talking. He was speaking our language. 

Then, with just the right timing, like a comedian with a punchline, he said three more words, “Keep in touch.”