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Show house/ 446 The after-dinner joking had begun. My father began withhis favorite pun, the one about the court jester whose life is threatened by his liege for his relentless punning. It was an especially applicable joke, since the family sense of humor takes the form of punning - even during religious meetings. I have always expected someone to crack a pun while praying , counting on the Lord to laugh. Anyway, the jester is trussed on the gallows, with one last chance to save his own life. A page has come into the courtyard, saying, "The king has promised clemency if only you will refrain from punning." "No noose is good noose," the jester replied. Before the infuriated king could give command from his window that the trap door be opened, the jester cried out, "0-pun the door!" There was something about this jester I admired, although it certainly wasn't his sense of humor. I loved him, silly creature, for his unconquered spirit, that he remained true to himself in the face of death. And I suspected that my father admired him for the same reason. But my father was no jester. He did not laugh at himself. He had been condemned to perpetual seriousness by his calling, his way of life. He was the stuff of tragedies, a man of Principle. His kingdom of wives, children, grandchildren was regarded with a remote and regal eye. The subjects clustered around, touching a lapel here, a shoulder there, receiving his kiss with reverence, all wishing to pierce the shield of nobility, to know their leader, to unearth their 0rigins. Anft always, thoy had left without revelation |