My husband and I have been married for almost thirty-nine years. My
mother–in–law once told us we laugh too much. And then she frowned
at us. It’s okay. I understood. Pipe down with the happiness! Don’t get
me wrong, we raised five kids, owned a business, and had our share of
stress. Who doesn’t?
We just choose to have a bit of fun.
My husband, Scott just recently became a Eucharist minister. He gives
Communion at the10:00 mass every week. He is very proud and
honored to do this. I usually sit in the back of the church where he first
serves the choir, then comes to our area. When he walks down the aisle in his flowing white robe,
he looks like a big altar boy. He gives me a smile and a wink as he passes me. I wink back and give him a
smooch face. I love this man!
One Sunday we went to the beach after church and my daughter Jamie
came along. She was visiting us for a month so we dragged her to the beach.
We were sitting in our chairs soaking up the sun when a young woman came
over and asked Scott to help them with a game. He said no at first, but she
assured him it was harmless good fun. Off he went four beach towels over.
They had an area marked off with sandcastles and there were four beach
chairs set up in a row. Each chair had a big set of cards with numbers on
them: 7.5, 8, 8.5, 9 and 10. They were grading women as they passed by! A few
women were posing to raise their score.
A woman next to us came over and asked why she wanted my husband to
go with her. When we explained, she laughed. I leaned in closer and I asked
her to do me a favor. “Just go over and ask him if’s the one who gave her
communion this morning.” The three of us were chuckling. Jamie and I
watched her walk to the judging area. She tapped Scott on the shoulder and
said, “Should you be doing this? Aren’t you a Eucharistic minister?” Well he
sat up straight like someone had put a rod up his spine. His head spun to the
east then to the west. We can see her chat with him then he scampers back to
our chairs. “Oh my God! You’re never going to believe this! Someone
recognized me! I gave her communion this morning! This is not good.” Jamie
and I giggle under our breath. “She recognized you?” Jamie asks. “Yes !!!’ he
said, “Can you believe it?” We both respond “No! What are the chances of that
To make things even better, my new found actress went for an academy
performance. He asked, “How did you recognize me?” She says “I recognized
your mustache and broad shoulders. You look like a football player coming
down the aisle.” I whisper to Jamie that she needs an award for this
performance. He doesn’t know whether to say thank you or run home. Now
you have to know Scott. When we go out dancing, he will engage conversation
with strangers all the time. He usually dances with a few people as well. So, a
little good behavior check is not always a bad thing.
A friend of ours, Tracey, joined us that day and she played along beautifully.
She said she was quite shocked that a Eucharistic minister would behave like
that too. “Scott, what were you thinking?” Jamie is now smirking in her beach
towel. I just sit with a look of wonderment on my face. “Pass the suntan lotion,
please” I say. “I don’t want to be as red as your father when he burns in hell
for his actions”. Now we are all rolling laughing. He doesn’t see any humor in
this at all.
The next morning he rolls over and says, “I had the worst dream! The
church called me in and fired me.” I pretend to cough. My chest is jumping in
suppressed laughter. He then proceeded to tell everyone we know what
happened. He told people at work. He called family up north. He is so upset
with his behavior. I overhear him telling my aunt, “The good news is they also
had Fake and Real signs to grade women’s chest. I never used them and I gave
every woman a 9 or a 10.”
“Scott, I’m not sure if that’s really enough to get you into Heaven,” Aunt Helen
told him rather seriously.
Every time I started to tell him the truth Jamie or Tracey would say, “No!No!
It’s too good! We got him. You can’t tell him.” So I carried my Catholic guilt for
ten days. I knew I had to tell him. When he was going out of town, he said, “I
am having nightmares about that woman on the beach.” I felt so bad. I ran out
the door after him and I told him he got punked. His face was priceless.
His mouth was wide open, he stepped back three steps and then started
laughing. “You got me! I can’t believe you got me! Who else was in on this?
My own daughter knew?!?” Good thing I told him because he was just getting
ready to call the church to see if there had been any reports on his behavior.
He wanted to plead his innocence.
So yes, we do laugh too much.