The Prison

Tales from the backyard…When I was in my early teens, my cousin Clint married a beautiful Native American from the Chippewa tribe of northern Minnesota and moved amongst them.  He began associating with a bad group who thought the day should be spent drinking and to cover the costs, began writing bad checks.  For this he was sent to prison on several occasions.  One day my aunt asked me to ride along for her monthly visit, and with my mother’s urging, I said I would go.  It was out of her way to come down and get me and in reflection, I think mom and her had thought a trip to the prison may do me some good.  Kind of shock therapy and I guess it worked, for out of prison I have stayed ever since.  While visiting I could here in the background different prisoners shouting out different numbers, after which they would all laugh.  After awhile I asked my cousin what that was all about and he said that they had heard all the jokes so many times they gave them numbers and when you heard a number you recollected the joke and if funny, laughed.  Could I try, I said, and he said okay, so I yelled out 27.  Nothing, not a single response, confused  I asked my cousin what happened, was that a bad joke?  He said, no, It’s just some people can tell them and some people can’t.  Alright, the last part is an very old bad joke but being a story teller I have always seen the humor in it.  So sue me…