My Dad had a sense of humour. When \u201con\u201d he could be one of the funniest people you\u2019d ever meet. His sense of humour was often biting, at someone else\u2019s expense and, therefore, could be offensive. Good humour, this side of Paradise, usually is. There\u2019s the rub: This side of Paradise.<\/p>\n
My Dad, every time we passed a cemetery, would say: \u201cHey, David, people are just dying to get in there!\u201d Did you hear me say \u201cevery time\u201d? Well I meant it. That is, every single solitary time that I can remember riding past a cemetery \u2013 every single time \u2013 my Dad said, \u201cHey, David, I hear people are just dying to get in there\u201d. When you\u2019re a kid, it\u2019s funny. It\u2019s funny the first few times. Then it gets old as you enter adolescence. Forget the teen years. Then about the millionth time, it\u2019s suddenly funny again.<\/p>\n
My Dad had other sayings that, God help me, I find myself saying often \u2013 always attributing the source, of course. (Some of these have been \u201csanitized\u201d for general consumption.)<\/p>\n
When you\u2019re fond of using the word \u201cIF\u201d to justify something \u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well, if a frog had wings we wouldn\u2019t bump his butt all the time.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n If you were basing your goals and dreams on wishes \u2026<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you try wishing in one hand and *&@##@+$ in the other and see which one fills up first.\u201d \u201cIf I had a head like yours that didn\u2019t ache, I\u2019d go see the doctor.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n If you complained of another body ache \u2026<\/p>\n \u201cHow \u2018bout I hit you in the _____ (arm, head, stomach, etc) and see which one hurts worse.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Etcetera, etcetera.<\/p>\n None of these are really funny. They\u2019re biting. The kind of thing a parent might say to neutralize drama. However, as I father I must admit, I\u2019ve stolen some of Dad\u2019s material.<\/p>\n We once had a parishioner whose mother had given her a plaque for her wall that read:<\/p>\n \u201cMirror, mirror, on the wall \u2026 I am my mother after all\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n I resemble that remark. I am my father after all. In other words, the very things I hated hearing as a child, I often find myself repeating \u2013 always attributing the source, of course.<\/p>\n But my Dad\u2019s sense of humour was spontaneous. All my pals and girlfriends loved him. They thought he was the funniest person they\u2019d ever met. He could be. To me, that is, he could<\/em> be. He was happiest when he had an audience. (Family don\u2019t count.) I loved watching my Dad \u201cperform\u201d.<\/p>\n There\u2019s not many stories I can relate here cuz, being spontaneous humour, you had to be there. He just had a way about him.<\/p>\n The other thing is, I look just like him. Growing up in a small town I often found myself being recognized as his son by total strangers. Folks see pics of my Dad and say, \u201cGosh, you look just like him\u201d. I never wore the sort of Elvis-like hairstyle, and was a bit taller and bulkier. But folks say that we\u2019re the spittin\u2019 image of each other.<\/p>\n Mirror, mirror \u2026 Anyway, my Dad, Malcolm Huneycutt, was definitely NOT<\/em><\/strong> \u201cdying to get in there\u201d. He found out that he had prostate cancer 7 or 8 years ago. Did all the stuff they typically put you through, Lord have mercy, and he died today at the age of 64.<\/p>\n Back in the 60\u2019s there was a toy called \u201cMonster Magnet\u201d. It was a brawny piece of plastic, a man-shaped horse shoe, with magnets at each end. It could pick up just about anything. I don\u2019t know how this routine started, but after yelling from my room in the dark house, \u201cI love you, Mom\u201d \u2013 my Dad and I would each yell \u201cMonster Magnet\u201d. Like this \u2026<\/p>\n \u201cGoodnight, Mom, I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love you, son. Sleep well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMonster Magnet, Dad!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGoodnight, son. Monster Magnet!\u201d<\/p>\n When he started working 16 hours a day, which he did for 16 years, the routine stopped. Till the other day. Only one participated, however. My Dad lay dying, looking 20 years older than he should. I\u2019ve watched many people die; studied theology for years; am never at a loss for words. My Dad, by this time non-responsive, just lay there, labouring to breath. Nothing more.<\/p>\n My Dad was a simple man.<\/p>\n I kissed him and said, \u201cI don\u2019t have any words of wisdom, Dad. Sorry \u2026 Malcolm Lee Huneycutt My Dad had a sense of humour. When \u201con\u201d he could be one of the funniest people you\u2019d ever meet. His sense of humour was often biting, at someone else\u2019s expense and, therefore, could be offensive. Good humour, this side of Paradise, usually is. There\u2019s the rub: This side of Paradise. My Dad, every time […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1691,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1950","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
<\/em>
When you complained of a headache \u2026<\/p>\n
<\/em>
Like many kids this side of Paradise, I spent a lot of years disliking the man; wishing he were different; wanting more than he offered; judging him. Looking back, it was probably more me than him. A year or so ago, he and I apologized to each other. It was short, real, needed. As a pastor, I often hear similar tales from males. Dads, sons \u2026 you know. I often weep over my own son, out of his sight, hoping I do better in his eyes. I know my Dad did the same. But this side of Paradise, for many, there\u2019s often a male thing going on with sons and Dads.<\/p>\n
Monster Magnet, Dad. Monster Magnet.\u201d<\/p>\n
May 7, 1941 \u2013 August 4, 2005<\/strong>
May the All-Merciful God grant him a good and welcoming audience inside <\/em><\/strong>Paradise. (\u2018Cuz that\u2019s<\/strong><\/em> the place he was really dying to get into.)<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"