Growing up, I likened my father to Bill Cosby. He could tell these glorious stories about every day life that innately made you laugh. And if they didn't make you laugh, his own mirth over his story (imagine that closed & teary eyed laugh that is completely silent, head thrown back and no sound coming out until the laugher gasps for air) would infectiously make you laugh, until you had no idea what you were even laughing at to begin with. Jerry can spin a yarn (albeit the same yarn 15 times over in his old age) that was so magical, you felt you were a player on the stage - even though you knew no one in the tale.
Over the years, I've come to wear my "Jerry's Daughter" badge proudly. I've perfected my righteous indignation for any time someone tells me that I'm exaggerating. I'm not! I'm merely ad-libbing to enhance the storytelling purpose. Tell me, are you not entertained? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?
What was I talking about? Oh, right. Jerry. His lavish stories....His GRANDAUGHTER. That's right folks. His beautiful little tow-headed granddaughter. And the apple tree she fell from.
This pint sized little imp, at the ripe old age of four is already casting her magic with a velvet tongue; stories told with the utmost seriousness that the unsuspecting listener may just take for fact. Let me explain.
Yesterday, I got to spend an unexpected day with my children. That means, I got the older two on the bus, and hung out with 'the baby' until her bus came to take her to afternoon kindergarten. As I was brushing her hair she began to tell me about the horrors of bees and why she hated them so.
"And so yesterday, Mommy...I put my finger in my ear and I did it because I felt something HUGE go in there...so I put my finger in and I pulled out a bee! There was a bee in my ear."
"I'm thinking you're confusing a bee with ear wax, lovie. There wasn't a bee in your ear. Your ear isn't big enough."
"You're wrong. It was a bee. A teeny tiny bee. (Remember a few moments ago it was huge?) This itty bee was trying to sniff me to see if I was a flower and I hate that. It makes a loud buzzing sound when it is in your ear, and I was like 'GET OUT BEE, GET OUT!', so that's when I stuck my finger in and killed it. Even though it stung me in the inside my ear first..."
Apparently, this was her story and she was sticking to it. So, I rolled. "I hate when bees fly into my ear."
"I know. It's terrible. All this buzzing and then sometimes [her eyes get wide at this point and she whispers while cupping her mouth]...sometimes they pee in there too! And when they pee in there, it all oozes all over the place. And, it stinks!"
Jesus...who knew bee pee was such a vexinig issue? By the end of her wonderful little tale, I was in tears. She's good. Knowing her as well as I do, I knew not to believe a word of it, but I'll bet $5 that my mom would have looked in her ear to treat that 'sting'...I know her brother & sister would have been mesmerized into awe and dumbounded wonder over her great experience.
So, the next time you encounter a gifted story teller...just ask yourself, "Is this Jerry's kid? Maybe a grandkid..." Shake your head, sit back and enjoy the ride.
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