Now here’s an interesting metaphor. Our annual trip to Shryock’s Corn Maze took on an intriguing theme: the U. S. presidential election.
I suppose as we have to chart a course through the maze, progressing through many obstacles and making decisions at every intersection, we should also ponder the presidential election as we, the people, chart a course for our country, keep our nation progressing through many obstacles and choose someone who we think will be making the right decisions at every intersection.
Or at least for this year, making the right decisions much more often than the other candidate.
So we got some tickets to see Bill Cosby in concert down in Branson….
My first exposure to Bill Cosby’s standup humor came, of all places, in high school. Yes, I had an English teacher/coach, who, as English teacher/coaches go, was good at what he did. Quirky, but good. He actually read to our class a self-published novel he had written. Of course, his idol was Stephen King, so most of the teens in his novel died by the end. Like I said, he was quirky. As a reward to us near the end of the term, he showed us Bill Cosby: Himself.
I know, I have digressed somewhat.
But then again, so does Bill Cosby. Maybe not quite as rambling as me, but more like your favorite old uncle who always tells you stories. That was what watching Bill Cosby in concert is like now. He starts stories, moves on to others, then comes back to the first one in a way that made me feel like he’d invited us over for dinner and we were now enjoying some after-dinner conversation.
He spun his humorous stories from a chair in the middle of the stage. He was wearing a casual sweatshirt, and it looked like he was fighting a cold by the way he went to the tissue box at various times during his performance.
Though still autobiographical, his humor has changed from Bill Cosby: Himself. Of course that was over twenty years ago. Then, he talked about his family, being a father, his kids, his childhood. Now, at 71 years of age, his jokes are more about the challenges of getting old, trying to swap recipes with fussy neighbors, and visits to the doctor and dentist.
I particularly enjoyed some of the stories about him and his wife Camille. I “get” that he’s taken some liberty with the “grumpy” exchanges he describes in his routine. The deep love and understanding that makes a 44-year marriage happen always sneaks in between the lines of his jokes.
“You get to my age, you can sit like this in a room, no TV, no radio, just sitting in a room, and you can get into trouble.”
“My wife will say, ‘I just straightened up in there!’ Well, I must be the mess.”
I hear you, Cos. And Angie and I really enjoyed you having us over last night.
I like to surprise Angie with “extra destinations” on our annual birthday trips. (The first corn maze we went to in Columbia was a big birthday surprise.) This year was no different. The fun we had in Springfield would probably have been enough (Japanese Stroll Garden, Braums, Battlefield Mall), but I wasn’t finished yet. I took her down to tour the 417 Idea Home in Branson.
We’ve been talking about building a home for some time now. The Idea Home was a collaborative effort that took four years to complete. The home featured the best of what local architects, designers, builders, and suppliers had to offer. It was meant to be an inspiration for people who want to build their own homes using the latest materials and technology. Something that you can actually touch and walk around in. And, best of all, Angie had never heard of it.
It was great fun for both of us, and it fueled another round of design plans and revisions. One day, one day….