My wife and I stood with a young man at a wedding Saturday night, as he lamented the lack of turkeys to hunt at his camp. There were no gobblers, he said, and he was a bit down in the mouth about it. “Why?” my wife asked.
“In the spring,” he said, “the hens move to a different place where they like the environment for nesting. The gobblers follow, and wherever those hens go, it’s not on our property. I wish there were something about our place that the hens liked, but every spring they move away, and the gobblers go with them.”
“Sounds a lot like the bars I used to go to in college,” I said. No reaction.
Then my wife joined in. “How about making your place more romantic? Some mood lighting in the woods, and you can play Sade and Lou Rawls. That’ll make the hens want to stick around. Make it so romantic they can’t bring themselves to leave,” and she began singing “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine” and doing a little shoulder dance. She and I laughed at the idea. It was funny! Both of us were imagining two turkeys doing a sensual dance around each other in the middle of the woods to Lou Rawls or Sade under some soft lights. We were wiping tears from our eyes. It was hysterical, and we kept the joke going. It was good stuff!
The young man’s expression was, well…he was either pitying us, worried for us, or worried for himself. He thought none of it was funny. He didn’t get the joke. He looked awkward because he felt awkward. Two people standing in front of him mopping tears from their eyes to something that he knew flew way over his head. Lou Rawls? Sade? Who were they? Should he offer us a nervous, sympathetic laugh? Should he excuse himself and quickly get lost in the crowd? The poor young man stood there uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. We stopped laughing and an awkward silence hung.
It was the age gap. It reared its ugly head and stared all of us in the face. Was the key to getting the joke knowing who Sade and Lou Rawls is? Was the key to getting the joke hearing the song in your head and picturing the turkeys dancing? Was the joke something only old people like and when I was in my twenties would have felt sad for me, too? Does humor, like wine, age and change its complexity and then, like wine, go bad?
I could chalk the whole incident up to my wife and my shared odd sense of humor. I’m not gonna do that. I could chalk it up to our humor having gone bad. That’s not it. I’m going to chalk it up to kids these days. Imagine two turkeys dancing in the woods to this music and try not to smile. Try, I dare you. You can’t not smile. It was funny!
I worry about the future of our nation.
I’m Cam Marston, and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
