Our family budget was stretched to the max so at one time, our vehicle was a red Volkswagon Bug.  Daddy was acutely aware of the humor involved in seeing a big man and his family of seven stuffing themselves into a Volkswagon and wanted to avoid it at all costs.  He was still smarting from one of the deacons embarrassing him by quoting Hunt’s Tomato slogan, “How do you get those eight great tomatoes in one can?” We had instructions to come straight out of church and get in the car so people would be deprived of that particular pleasure.  One Sunday morning, we had a visiting preacher and dinner on the grounds after church.  Daddy lingered after lunch, waiting for the crowd to clear hoping people wouldn’t hang around just to watch us as we loaded into the red bug.  Little Connie had gotten sleepy and gone to take a nap in the small cargo space behind the back seat as time dragged on.  Eventually, Daddy waited everyone out and told us to load up.  Mother was horrified to find Connie missing from the car.  Who could have taken her from a busy churchyard with dozens of people around?  We searched the church, the grounds, and the area close enough for a four-year-old to wander to.  Just as Daddy was about to raise a search, a red Volkswagon Bug came screeching back into the churchyard.  The visiting minister hurriedly pulled a tiny weeping girl from his car.  Connie had gotten into his car by mistake and he had gotten nearly home before she woke and started wailing.

Another visiting preacher came home with us one for Sunday dinner. He had a just gotten a new car that week and spent most of Sunday dinner talking about it.  His wife had a bad heart and lay down for a nap after lunch. He whispered “She could go anytime.”  This did nothing to lighten the mood.  It was clear the new car was the only bright spot in their lives. It would look nice at her funeral.  They were from out of town so were stuck with them until time for the evening service.  The afternoon looked long and hopeless. 

All us kids escaped outdoors as soon as possible.  Our house was on the edge of the farm, sitting inside a larger fenced area where Daddy raised hay and grazed cattle, horses, goats. The long driveway was several hundred yards long and fenced separately, enclosing several pecan and fruit trees, and space for parking.  As goats will do, the goats had slipped through the fence and gotten in the drive.  Brother Smith had parked his nice new car under the mulberry tree in full bloom.  Goats love new vegetation and as it turns out, new cars. We saw several hop agilely to the roof of his new car.  Before we could get to it, several more joined their friends standing on their back legs to reach the tree branches.  There was a big metallic “Pop!!” and the hood caved in, leaving the goats in a bowl.  They were little bothered and continued jockeying for position on the concave car roof. Mother heard the racket and ran out just in time to catch the whole disaster.  Her eyes were huge as her hands flew to her mouth. 

We hadn’t had a new car for years and now we’d be buying this preacher one.  Not only that, his wife would probably drop dead on the spot and he’d have to drive a goat-battered car to the funeral.

God smiled on us.  As soon as we shooed the goats off, the hood popped back in the shape.  This time we enjoyed the sound.  We flew to inspect the roof.  No apparent damage.  Mother got the preacher’s keys and pulled the car to the safety of the yard.  Mrs. Smith lived through the day, and as far as I know, Brother Smith had a fine new car to drive to her funeral a couple of weeks later.  All’s well that ends well.

Another Sunday morning several years later, Connie provided the entertainment for the service. Sitting proudly near the front of the church with her new fiancé and his little niece, Amy, she was lovely in a beautiful yellow, spring dress.  As the worshippers stood for a hymn, little Amy stood behind Connie, grasped the tail of Connie’s dress, and raised it as high as her tiny arms would reach, giving most of the congregation something truly inspiring to consider, for which God made them truly grateful.

I guess when I look back on all this, I did sometimes enjoy church.

While reading an article last night about fathers and sons, memories came flooding back to the time I took me son out for his first pint.  Off we went to our local pub only two blocks from the cottage.
 I got him a Guinness.  He didn’t like it, so I drank it.
 Then I got him a Kilkenny’s, he didn’t like that either, so I drank it. Finally, I thought he might like some Harp Lager?  He didn’t.  I drank it.
 I thought maybe he’d like whisky better than beer so we tried a Jameson’s; nope!
 In desperation, I had him try that rare Redbreast, Ireland’s finest whisky.  He wouldn’t even smell it.
 What could I do but drink it!
 By the time I realized he just didn’t like to drink, I was so off my face I could hardly push his stroller back home!!!
 
 
Irish Confession
 
I went into the confessional box after many years of being away from the Catholic Church.
 Inside I found a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap.  On one wall, there was a row of decanters with fine Irish whiskey and Waterford crystal glasses.  On the other wall was a dazzling array of the finest cigars and chocolates.
 When the priest came in, I said to him, “Father, forgive me, for it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to confession, but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be.”
He replied, “You moron, you’re on my side.”
 
 
Some Light Dublin Traffic Humor
 
A car full of Irish nuns are sitting at a traffic light in downtown Dublin when a bunch of rowdy drunks pull up alongside of them. 
 “Hey, show us yer teets, ya bloody penguins.” shouts one of the drunks. Quite shocked, Mother Superior turns to Sister Mary Immaculata and says, “I don’t think they know who we are; show them your cross.”
 Sister Mary Immaculata rolls down her window and shouts, “**** off, ya…. $X@!# …before I come over there and…..$X@!#….”  She then rolls up her window, looks back at Mother Superior quite innocently, and asks, “Did that sound cross enough?”
 
 
AN IRISH BLONDE IN A CASINO
 
An attractive blonde from Cork, Ireland arrived at the casino.  She seemed a little intoxicated and bet twenty-thousand Euros on a single roll of the dice. 
 She said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I feel much luckier when I’m completely naked.”
 With that, she stripped from the neck down, rolled the dice and with an Irish brogue yelled, “Come on, baby, Mama needs new clothes!”
 As the dice came to a stop, she jumped up and down and squealed: “YES! YES! I WON, I WON!”
She hugged each of the dealers and then picked up her winnings (and her clothes) and quickly departed.
 The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded.  Finally, one of them asked, “What did she roll?”
 The other answered, “I don’t know – I thought you were watching the dice.”
 
MORAL OF THE STORY:
Not all Irish are drunks. 
Not all blondes are dumb. 
But all men…. are men. 
 
Irish Fun
 
Mick says to Paddy: “Close your curtains the next time you’re shagging your wife. The whole street was watching and laughing at you yesterday.”
Paddy says: “Well the joke’s on them stupid bastards, because I wasn’t even home yesterday.”
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Paddy was driving home, drunk as a skunk, suddenly he has to swerve to avoid a tree, then another, then another. A cop car pulls him over as he veers about all over the road. Paddy tells the cop about all the trees in the road.
Cop says “For God’s sake Paddy, that’s your air freshener swinging about!”
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Reilly went to trial for armed robbery. The jury foreman came out and announced, ‘Not guilty.’
‘That’s grand!’ shouted Reilly. ‘Does that mean I can keep the money?’
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Murphy told Quinn that his wife was driving him to drink. 
Quinn thinks he’s very lucky because his own wife makes him walk.
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Finnegin: My wife has a terrible habit of staying up ’til two o’clock in the morning. I can’t break her out of it.
Keenan: What on earth is she doin’ at that time?
Finnegin: Waitin’ for me to come home.
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