Droll

My brother liked the word droll. Such words were known well in my family. My brother and mother would pass witticisms like passing food around the dinner table, tit for tat and the like. I can be too serious sometimes. All the same I do prefer word humor to physical humor.

Laughter is a needed element of living long, that and being able to let go so I have learned. They are all gone now, my brother the poet, my father the scholar poet, and my mother the mother. She was also a T. S. Elliot scholar. Originally I went into music I think to not compete, but words have always been a wonderful tool for me. I was always the smallest in my classes, but the oldest. If someone said I couldn’t do something, I found a way to do it. (I was told I was too small to play viola, heh, I learned to anyway!) There seems to be no droll humor here though. Here is something for the season coming up – maybe.

Back in the day when everyone was still alive we had Christmas together, my mother, my father, my brother and my nephew. We were opening presents and there was one for me from my brother. He had a grin on his face. I opened it and it was a purple skirt suit likely from one of the local thrift stores. I tried it on (over my PJ’s) and it fit! My father looked at my brother and asked, “How did you know it would fit her, I can’t …?” and my brother quite as a wit replied “I tried it on.” — well — it was funny then.

My brother died March 16th 2004. I was in Ireland at University there and had that purple suit. March 17th is St. Patrick’s day and to honor my brother I wore that suit. My Irish friends asked why, and I told them, and they approved, but gave me a green pin to put on the lapel.

Droll, funny in a weird way, and my family with it’s poets and musicians, was definately weird. (oh, and the dogs too).

 

 

5/4   12/8   7/4   6/8   13/16  84/4 – these are difficult times!

 

Musical Joke there that is kinda droll

 

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