Though deeply upset by her “Nanny’s” passing, my daughter Anna, carrying the “funny” gene, retained her unique way of seeing things.
Part of the funeral ritual required me to pin a black, satin ribbon to my suit jacket lapel. “Dad,” she remarked, gesturing to the black ribbon I was wearing,
“It looks like you got 'Last Place' at the horse show.”
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The first time i heard anything funny at a funeral was after my father and an uncle were walking back from being pallbearers for my great-grandmother.
Uncle: You weren't carrying your share.
Dad: That's why I get in the middle.
The Rabbi droned on and on at a family eulogy, especially upsetting since he had no acquaintance with the deceased but was merely parroting dislocated anecdotes related to him the night before by relatives desperately trying to put together a few thoughts for the event. When he began a spiel about how much Uncle Phil had enjoyed puttering in his garden your friend leaned over to me and whispered, "...and now he's pushing up the daisies!"
I had to leave the chapel to regain my composure.
PG
At my grandmother's request, we asked her minister to officiate. He had made several verbal flubs in his eulogy, but the one that had my sister and I clutching each other for support was his reading of the bible at graveside. The verse contained the word immortality which he then read as immorality.
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