Snap, Crackle, Pop!

Sister Wendy Beckett found here

I was new in town and didn't have any friends yet. Michael, one of my new colleagues, whom I thought was rather a prig, invited me to go over to St. Mary of the Woods and meet Sister Marilyn. She was 87 years old and could out walk a mule, he said. We would have lunch with her and then she would show us the convent's art collection. It would be a lovely escape from the monotonous anonymity that I couldn't seem to shake.

Sister Marilyn was waiting for us at the door to the dining room. She welcomed us warmly and took us inside for a wonderful Sunday brunch. Honestly, I've never enjoyed a brunch more ever since. Everything delicious was laid out and people swarmed around white linen covered tables. We had a wonderful visit and terrific breakfast.

I quickly learned that Sister Marilyn was as deaf as a stone. Michael and I shouted above the din of the brunch crowd into her ear all through the meal. One nun was playing show tunes on an electric piano by the door. It was odd to see a nun in habit playing "Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly, I'm gonna love that man till I die; can't stop loving that man of mine."

Sister Marilyn was pleasant enough, smiling and nodding even when she couldn't get everything we said. Would we like to get the tour? And so we were off across the grounds of the convent. We saw the Shell Chapel, the Hermitage made of straw bales, the graveyard of sleeping nuns from the early 1800s, and the stations of the cross bronze sculptures. It was a most impressive place and I was so happy to finally be in a spot that felt more like home than the flat, grassy area where I was living.

How about seeing the paintings now? We headed down one of the many long halls in the building. All along the walls were oil paintings of various sizes and different themes. We stepped up to the first painting--a vivid floral oil painting.

"This one was done by Sister Theresa Bernadette." Sister Marilyn leaned closer to eye the signature at the bottom of the painting. Pfffft!! A loud fart coming from Sister Marilyn almost made me jump. Michael and I both stepped back. His eyes were wide and he seemed to suddenly have something wrong with his pocket, as he was fumbling around with it.

Sister Marilyn didn't even pause, but plunged into an explanation of the brilliant paint colors used in this painting. Ktchppppptt! She exploded again. I suddenly realized that being so deaf, she couldn't hear herself. We shuffled on to the next picture, both Michael and I trying not to let on that we'd heard anything.

"You'll notice that the Madonna in this picture is much more active than how she is typically depicted." Pfoofph! "She has such a more youthful expression on her face than I've seen her have elsewhere." Plght! I didn't think I could contain myself, but that's how it went, all the way down the hall--cracks and pops punctuating her every comment. I don't know how she did it, but I thought I'd laugh myself silly if I could just get out of there.

Not once did I visit Sister Marilyn thereafter, but that she sounded off throughout our whole visit. I became quite adept at ignoring what I heard, but it always gave me a twinkle in my eye to think of this woman of God, full of hot air in this way.

It reminded me of Betty--a British friend who cannot bear impropriety. She had to have X-rays taken at the hospital so she called on her friend, Rita, another Brit, to help her. Rita worked in Volunteer Services and offered to take Betty around the hospital in a wheelchair.

Betty has real trouble with her back, so a wheelchair would be very helpful for her. In she plunked and off she went, propelled by Rita. Down the hall they went. But what's this? Rita, looking very dignified, was a walking percussion section, only she acted as though nothing was happening. When people in the hall heard a loud fart, they naturally, looked at Betty--the patient in the wheelchair. Betty was utterly scandalized.

The walk to radiology seemed to go on forever. They got into the elevator and there, with several other people standing inside that small space, Rita farted again, loudly. She looked unconcerned and maintained a stiff upper lip. Someone tittered, and Rita started talking to Betty about family members in the U.K. The doors to the elevator swung open and Rita rolled Betty, now apoplectic, out of the elevator and into the hall. Betty could not contain her outraged sense of proper conduct any longer.

"I say, Rita! You have a problem!" she whispered angrily.

Rita looked surprised. "Have I?"

Betty had a full head of steam now: "Yes, you need to get help for all that noise you're making--even in the elevator." She grimaced as Rita let out another popping sound as if in retort.

"My giddy aunt..." Betty stiffened. "You need help!"

Rita's lips went from a smile into a straight line. "Perhaps you'd rather walk to radiology."

Betty's eyebrows lifted at this suggestion. "Yes, perhaps I would." And she struggled up from the chair and without looking back, hurried away from Rita and the parting blast that echoed in the elevator foyer.

Betty was telling me about this one time and began laughing and wheezing. "The Lord has a sense of humor!" she choked out between gasps. "When I get to heaven I'm going to look for Rita and tell her that I understand and I'm so sorry I was cross with her! Now I can't help myself!" And right on cue, as if to prove her point, she let fly with a drum roll of her own.

"Oh!" she threw her head back on the couch, her mouth open in a silent howl of laughter, only a long quivering wheeze audible. "Terribly sorry!"

These are some of life's funniest little jokes ever.