Jeff. The Continuing Adventures.: July 2014

I've written before about my camp directing days and working with the Soviet Jews who had recently arrived. I mentioned Ruslan who threw a rock through the temple window. and Alex who stole the keys from the piano during a recital. But the all time godfather of the boisterous Russian kids was Gregory.

I first met Gregory on my first day as a counselor; a very green counselor who had never worked with kids. We were thrown into the deep end and not given a lot of instruction what to do with the kids. I'm one of those people who come off as very competent and self sufficient and I guess I have some strong leadership qualities so despitet my lack of experience I was given a group the assistant director jokingly called the dirty dozen. I barely knew where to pick up the milk crate for lunch let alone how to deal with 12 boisterous kids, half of whom didn't speak English. I was supposed to have a Russian speaking co-counselor but somethign happened to his funding and he never showed up on the first day of camp.

The first day of camp is always a confusing blur of misplaced kids, crying parents and short tempers. My very first activity was swimming which meant taking this group of kids I didn't know into the changing room. Almost as soon as we got into the locker room this terrified looking kid named Dmitry started crying. I tried asking him what was wrong but he just kept screaming the word "polotense" over and over. This was long before the internet so I had no way of figuring out what he meant.

Finally, this large, muscular kid, turned to me and in a thick russian accent said "He cries because he has no towel." I asked him his name and he said Gregory. I asked him tell Dmitry that it was okay and I would get him a towel. He said something in Russian and instead of Dmitry calming down he started to scream louder. By this point another one of the Russian speaking counselors had come in and gave Gregory a stern look. Gregory started laughing hysterically. He said something to Dmitry and he calmed down instantly.

The counselor said to me exasperatedly "Gregory has quite an odd sense of humor. I asked what he had said and the counselor said "Ehhm. he told Dmitry that you were very mad at him for not having a towel and you were going to spank him." Gregory was on the floor laughing hysterically.

(To be continued)

Anyone whose either met my dad or heard me talk about him knows that he has a very funny, but odd sense of humor. He's never met a pun he didn't like or a one liner he wouldn't tell. He'll tell a joke and then say "These are the Jokes. These are the jokes" which I think is something that an old vaudeville comic used to say when he was bombing.

My sense of humor, for good or bad, is the product of years of watching Marx Brothers and Three Stooges Movies with him. My mom would cringe when we'd spend a whole Sunday watching Ma and Pa Kettle, Francis The Talking Mule and Abott and Costello. You never knew when he'd break into the old Three Stooges routine Niagra Falls.

But more than anything he loved playing practical jokes on me and my brother...Somehow my sister managed to avoid the frivolity. For years my dad had my brother convinced that he wasn't really our dad but an alien from mars named Klatu who had taken over my dad's body to observe humans. My brother was maybe 6 or 7 and was pretty convinced it was true. If somone touched my dad on the back of the head he'd wince and say "ouch those are where my Martian eyes are." He'd launch into Martian talk for a minute or two. He'd often run stick pipe cleaners in the back of his hair and say they were antennae. It finally bugged my brother so much that my dad made up a story that he'd managed to come back from mars and take over his own body again.

One time I was in the living room and I heard my brother run down the hall screaming "I shot dad. I shot dad. he's bleeding." I took my brother by the hand and led him back to his room where they'd been playing. My dad was laying on the floor with his eyes barely closed trying not to laugh. There was red stuff on his chest but it smelled familiar,Ketchup. When my brother "shot" my dad with his finger my dad had grabbed his chest with Ketchup I guess he had on his hand already, said "you got me" and fell to the ground. Freaked my brother out.

We used to watch a show called Creature Features which was one of those shows where a local TV host would show old horror movies, mostly Monster movies like Frankenstein and Dracula.It was on late on Saturdays and my parents let me stay up to watch it. This particular night The Mummy was on, not the newish one with the Rock, but the creepy old black and white one with the guy withe disfigured face running around in bandages choking people.

We were in the dark watching and my dad got up and left the room. This wasn't unusual since he'd often go to his little office to make notes or go to the bathroom. There weren't any DVRs back then so you couldn't stop a show. The movie got to a really scary part where the monster was killing everyone and moaning. Suddenly I thought I was hearing moaning from the back of the room. I looked around and didn't see anything and it stopped. But then it started again and got louder. Finally it was louder than the movie. But then it became a tortured voice saying "I'm coming to get you." I started to think that maybe it was someone outside trying to get in. I ran down the hall to my dad's office to tell him I was hearing something scary. When I went in he was on one of our toy walkie Talkies laughing; the other one was in the TV room.

These are the jokes. These are the jokes.

Here are some of the comedy sketches that my dad introduced me to.

Three Stooges - Niagra Falls(Slowly I turn)