... where family is the source of humor!

And the Thump-Psssh Goes On [Part 2] by Rudy Wilson Galdonik

Rudy shares, for Humor Is Relative's readers enjoyment, an excerpt from her new book "Take Heart!". Her parents tried to find an activity to help keep her, as a child, occupied. Problem wasn't in keeping the child occupied as much as that the activity couldn't be strenuous due to Rudy being born with a heart defect. Add in car rides, a piano and a flute, pair of roller skates, swimming lessons, and a sibling to have - well, humor [plus one occupied child] as the end result of her parents' efforts!

Part 1: And the Thump-Psssh Goes On!

When it came time for swimming lessons, my Mom enrolled me just like the normal kids, but as each session began, she would quietly whisper in the lifeguard's ear. At the end of those conversations the swim instructor's eyes would lock onto mine with a silent message: Ohhh, I see. Yes, I'll be careful. As the lessons progressed, we kids would regularly line up at the edge of the pool waiting our turn to demonstrate our newly mastered strokes. Whenever it came to my turn, I would push off, fully expecting to streak through the water with the skill and promise of a potential Olympian. Instead, after my third or fourth kick or pull of the arms the lifeguard would start clapping, thanking me with way too much enthusiasm for my effort. I was still in water up to my knees and I was already done. It didn't take long for my fellow swim mates to hate the fact that I could somehow excel in this class without even getting my face wet.

All this helped fuel my love of car rides. Going for a drive was far from an ordinary outing, even though the ultimate destination would be the same driveway from which we had left. No, this drive had a name: it was a Looking in People's Houses drive. Not to be confused with a Looking AT People's Houses, this activity had to be performed in the evenings so household lights could best illuminate what we were spying on. At Christmas time this activity could be slightly altered to a Looking at People's Lights drive. Occasionally, my family would find itself in the car at night with an actual purpose - we had someplace to go - and it was only a matter of time before some member of my highly creative clan would pipe in with, "Hey, why don't we look in people's houses?" Those evenings counted as both exciting and productive.

On those special evenings, my family would board our 1950s Ford that looked like a Mallomar on wheels, and my sister and I would bounce around in the back seat, pressing our noses against the glass as we oohed and aahed at the houses we passed. My father's sole responsibility was to navigate us slowly through neighborhoods far and wide, eyes on the road, hands at the wheel in the 10 and 2 o'clock position. My mother, who was also seated in the front, had a special role. She had the advantage of being taller in addition to older and wiser than us kids, so her assignment was to call out particularly interesting sights that we were about to pass. "Oh, look at that! See how pretty that living room is," or perhaps, "Can you believe the color of those walls? My, my." I have often thought that if our family included a son, he would have grown up to be an interior designer named Bruce.

If, on occasion, a car ride was the pastime of choice but conditions did not enable a Looking in People's Houses drive, (i.e., it was daylight, thereby rendering interiors in-eligible for examination) an alternative drive would be employed. A Let's Get Lost drive added the thrill of realizing that, if done correctly, my entire family might never be seen again. What my parents didn't realize was that during these very same drives my fragile heart would pound wildly as my entire family would squeal, "Oh, my God, I really don't have a clue where we are now." As I look back on the adrenaline rush of all this, I suspect that we may have never even left the confines of our small town. Yet, perhaps I am wrong. My parents in their retirement years always insisted on well-orchestrated, highly scheduled, well-supervised packaged tours for vacations, which may have been a direct result of their own adrenaline rush and sense of being out of control while behind the wheel.

My eccentric aunt, never to be outdone, devised her own car ride with us kids that matched her need to live life a touch over the top. Whenever our small town's volunteer fire department would blow its whistle, she would come racing to our curb with the same dedication and focus as the volunteer firefighters. Time was of the essence as my sister and I jumped in the back of her Thunderbird for a Let's Chase the Fire Trucks ride. Of course, as luck would have it, the only two fires in the history of my town, when something actually burned down, happened while we were fast asleep in our beds or while we were out of town looking in people's houses.

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
Take Heart! True Stories of Life, Love, and Laughter
[Rudy Wilson Galdonik; 197 pages]
Rudy was born, as she shares in the excerpt "And the Thump-Psssh Goes On", with a hole in her heart but also with a marvelous gift for finding humor in her life. Readers will giggle, laugh, cry, feel the heart strings being tugged, and then finding themselves laughing out loud while reading this memoir. I enjoyed this book and oh-so-could relate at times. Can you relate?

The trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more.
-- Erica Jong

Humor Is Relative
WebSite Primer
... or Search The Web

Children always assume the sexual lives of their parents come to a grinding halt at their conception.
-- Alan Bennett - Getting It On

Think you have a funny story about your family, or moments in parenting, that our readers may enjoy? Review Humor Is Relative submissions guidelines & submit your story! Who knows, we just may like it!

Meet Humor Is Relative's contributing writers!

Friends are relatives you make for yourself. -- Eustache Deschamps

I never see any home cooking. All I get is fancy stuff.
--Duke of Edinburgh