The Laugh Is On Me

Generally, I would say that there is nothing funny about ignorance, especially my own. If most people are like me, they have embarrassing memories of things they wished they could erase from time and memory…but it can’t be done. Only time can heal the hard ones, but finding humor in the others can turn those memories into stories you can share and laugh at. This is one of those stories.

I have heard a number of stories like this one, but with different circumstances. Most of them were making fun of fictional characters, and with just enough truth to them to make them believable, but not quite. This story has to do with certain practices that we grow up with and do not think of them as unusual until…well, until we find out that they are. This one has to do with family practices concerning treatment of average sickness, like a “bad cold.” I want to stop here for just a moment to make a point. For all my life I’ve called a cold a “bad cold.” It wasn’t until my stepmom asked in a rather heckling tone, “Is there such a thing as a good cold?” I must admit, she had a point, but that has not stopped me from saying, "I have a bad cold." In the case I am about to mention, I have changed some of my ideas and practices, but not completely.

My dad enjoyed hunting with my brother and me. When we were younger, we stayed in a green, canvas tent, but by the time I was a teenager, dad had purchased a used camper for the truck. It could easily sleep 4 or 5 people, so we would often take a friend with us. This particular year we took a new friend that had just moved to our town. He had done very little hunting growing up, and this was a new experience for him. Being the experienced country boys we were, we had already taught him about things like using a red handkerchief instead of Kleenex, carrying a pocketknife, and shooting a rifle. This would be another great experience for us to show off our knowledge, and him to learn from.

It was late in the fall and a lot of people were dealing with bad colds. Our new friend was one of them. By the time we reached our hunting site, it was getting late. We made camp, cooked and ate supper, and started setting up the sleeping arrangements. There was a place for all of us. Unfortunately, our new friend’s cold had made him pretty congested. Here comes our next lesson. I took out a small jar of Vick’s Vapor Rub and handed it to him. “Here, use this.”

He sat down on his bed, opened his shirt, and started rubbing this Vicks on his chest. My brother and I could not believe it.

“What are you doing?”

“Rubbing this on my chest.”

“You’re not supposed rub it on your chest, you stick it up your nose!”

“That is not what it says on the bottle.”

I took the bottle from his hand, looked for the application instructions. Well, needless to say, Vicks Vabor Rub is for rubbing on your chest, not stickin' it up your nose. My original thoughts seem so funny now, but at the time I did't even question them. I laugh at that story everytime I tell it, and I've got a few miles out of it. I will not make any further comments about reading the instructions on your medications, even the over the counter ones.