My daddy was a master story-teller, as was his father, my grandfather, whom we called Poppy. For daddy, every event was a story. There are people who thought his stories were ‘tall tales, but in fact, his stories never changed. They didn’t get bigger or more outlandish with time. The 20th time was the same as the first, and equally as funny as the first time.
He saw humor in everything. Our house was often filled with laughter because Daddy had seen a commercial on TV that he thought was funny, or he made a wry comment about something that happened to him that day, or he teased my Mama and made her blush.
I remember one night he came out of the bathroom holding his hand and wincing. When Mama asked him what was wrong, he said, “I cut myself on that tiny sliver of soap.” Then he showed us that he wasn’t cut at all.We all laughed.