Sometimes you just have to laugh...

...

A good morning laugh is so good for your soul. My grandson graduated fifth grade last night. His mother tells me the teacher read this about him... no doubt written by him: "He plans to play basketball at either KU or Hawaii and... he is good looking."

Now, he IS good looking. And he does have a pretty good jump shot for fifth grade. But that must have been one of those moments for his mother... one of many 'oh-my' moments. You know what they say: What goes around, comma, comes around. Let's just say he and his mother have more than DNA in common.

Here's another chuckle. Tuesday night we're playing softball. Doubleheader night. First game we get our butts kicked but we're doing better in the second game. We might even be ahead. It's about the third inning and right in the middle of the pitch, the sprinklers come on in the outfield sending everybody running.

Crash Davis: "You want a rainout? I can get us a rainout."

What I loved was the banter before the game. Remember, we're all at least 60 years old. Well, the guys are all gathered around in the dugout putting pine tar on their bats, rubbing analgesic into their knees, backs, shoulders, calves et al., lacing up their spikes, working over mouthfuls of sunflower seeds, bending and twisting muscles and joints that have suffered from a half-century or more of swinging bats, throwing pitches and running bases.

But the conversation isn't about baseball or softball or politics, or even grand children. It's about urologists. We're like fifth graders telling fart jokes. We've got wonderful tales about being surprised the urologist was a woman ("This just ain't happening!"... "Hey, that's exactly what I said when she walked into the room..."), or when the urologist has particularly short fingers ("You have no idea...") -- a story which set everyone to squirming--, or stories about a wide variety of other wonderful happenings when latex gloves have been snapped on and the position assumed.

At homeplate, the umpire and our skipper are trying valiantly to get us to take the field but nobody can hear them for the laughter. The ump finally has to walk over and order us onto the field.

Sometimes you just have to laugh in this life. Thank god for my wonderful grandson. He has no idea how many times he has lifted my spirits when the whole world seemed to be raining.

--Lofflin