Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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Daughter of Ishmael by Diane Stringam Tolley

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by Diane Stringam Tolley

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Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Funnier Than a Sack of Hammers

Grandma and Grandpa Stringam. Where the humour comes from . . .

My Dad has a great sense of humour.
He came by it rightly.
Let me explain . . .
Dad was in Lethbridge, running errands, shopping.
He stopped by the local hardware store.
There, in a bin just inside the door, was a pile of hammers.
Ordinary, wooden-handled hammers.
He stopped.
He was a rancher.
Hammers were in constant use.
Building.
Repairing.
And they were just as constantly disappearing.
He could always use another one.
He reached out, picking up the one on top.
And made an important discovery.
These weren't normal hammers.
They were light rubber.
But painted so perfectly that they could easily fool even the most scrutinizing (real word) glance.
The only way to tell was to actually pick one up.
Dad picked up several.
In fact everything the store had.
On his way home, he stopped off at his parent's comfortable house near the center of the city.
His father, George, a man past eighty, was seated in his recliner in the front room.
Sounds and delicious aromas were emanating tantalizingly from the kitchen.
Obviously, Dad had come at a good time.
He walked in, tossing a greeting to everyone in general, then entered the front room.
And whacked his father on the knee with one of the hammers.
Grandpa jumped.
"Oh!" Then he chuckled. "I thought you had lost your mind!"
Dad laughed.
Grandpa reached for the hammer. "Well. Isn't that remarkable!" He turned it over and over in his hands.
Then he leaned back in his chair. "Vina!" he called.
My Grandmother bustled in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. "What is it, George? Dinner's almost . . ."
That's as far as she got.
As soon as she came around the corner, Grandpa threw the hammer at her.
"Oh!" she said as the soft rubber bounced off her chest. She put one hand to her chest. "I thought you'd lost your mind!" she gasped, unconsciously repeating Grandpa's words.
Grandpa chuckled as Grandma picked up the trick hammer and threw it back at him.
Yep. Humour is inherited.

8 comments:

  1. What a great bunch. I can just picture rubber hammers flying through the air on Christmas Day. Beats a rubber chicken every time.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love It. Wonder if the hardware store had your dad in mind when the order was placed.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ya rubber hammers. Generally used not to hurt things lol
    Nice story :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. I think I would fit right in with your family. We have similar kinds of humor in our family as well. My dad always has a new joke to share every time we see him. He even started a blog a while back to keep track of all the jokes he came across, but it didn't last very long. He didn't keep up with it... :)

    This is such a fun story!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I love your title and the hammer story .... its great. My family was always so serious.
    I have made it a goal to have more fun and it has worked.
    I wonder if they still sell rubber hammers.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Haha! Where do I get me one of those?!?!

    ReplyDelete
  7. What a great story! I had a good chuckle over that one. And, you're right, humor is inherited! Thanks for sharing with NOBH. Smiles -

    ReplyDelete

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