The Comedy in Everyday Life

By John Zurn

My book, The Comedy in Everyday Life chronicles many of my experiences that span from childhood through retirement. Since the stories are all autobiographical, they have a sincerity that the reader may recognize and enjoy. With no vulgar language or objectionable themes, the book offers an opportunity to attract a wide audience. Some examples from the book include “Medicare with the Stars” that describes the questionable expertise of sports legends pitching plans for the Medicare system. Another story called, “The Breath of a Bear,” talks about tent camping that involves a leaky air mattress that is mistaken for the breath of a black bear outside. Finally another story, “My Wife isn’t the Boss of Me” portrays a husband’s misperceptions about his relationship with his spouse. The story also demonstrates that the author can laugh at himself.
A number of friends and family have “test driven” some of the stories from the book, and they described many as having a “laugh out loud” quality to them. In fact, some of them have encouraged me to create this book. To tell the truth, I really enjoy the conception and actual composition of humorous nonfictions, and I delight in making people laugh. Over the years, I have published, poetry, short stories, and a novel, but I believe writing articles devoted to humor, may actually y be my niche.
An added charm to The Comedy in Every Day Life includes its flash fiction appeal that allows stories to be read in one sitting. I believe if readers take a little time to peruse one story, then most lovers of comedy will be drawn to continue reading. I certainly have faith they might.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Zurn
• Release date: Dec 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005442934

John Zurn

John F Zurn has earned an M.A. in English from Western Illinois University and spent much of his career as a school teacher. In addition, he has worked at several developmental training centers, where he taught employment readiness skills to mentally challenged teenagers and adults. Now retired, he continues to write and publish poems and stories. As one of seven children, his experiences growing up continue to help inspire his art and influence his life.

Book preview

These humorous stories are not long, but I believe quite engaging. They strongly suggest that everyday life has many opportunities to experience humor. They are wholesome without being foolish. Many of these stories have been read by friends and relatives and they have strongly encouraged me to gather them together for this book.

Chapter 1: The Return of the Hummingbirds

My wife and I rarely go out to dinner or visit relatives. Instead, we could be considered stay at home seniors since we spend much of our time gardening in our yard. Donna, my wife, grew up on a farm that raised nursery stock and flowers, so she usually supervises while I play the role of assistant supervisor.

One of Donna’s favorite hobbies in the garden has proved to be assembling the feeders for the hummingbirds that arrive in our backyard every summer. She even strategically places the feeders some distance apart in order to discourage bickering among the birds

Nevertheless, the hummingbirds constantly clash with each other because they are very territorial around the feeders. For example, one hummingbird often perches inside our Japanese Maple Tree, and then ambushes any competitors. Sometimes, one hummingbird will swoop in from some invisible vantage point to harass another bird. At other times, one bird will bob up and down next to the feeder watching for some inevitable enemy to attack.

Donna felt strongly about her tiny responsibilities despite their dispositions, so she regularly checked and filled the hummingbird feeders, and regularly dumped them when ants invaded or even if the sugar water appeared to be stale.

However, after a few weeks this summer, it became obvious that our hummingbirds were not returning each day, and we finally attributed it to leaking feeders. Every day, Donna would faithfully refill them, but the next day, they would be empty. So, we eventually bought new feeders, but they both leaked as well.

In desperation, we agreed to give up on the project for the summer. We were both deeply discouraged and a little irritated that we had purchased inferior feeders. We felt we should get our money back, but then something astonishing happened.

That very night, about eleven o’clock, I woke up and shuffled over to our second floor window that overlooked the garden. One of the feeders seemed to be blowing wildly in the wind, but it was so dark, I couldn’t really tell for sure. I stared at the feeder as my eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness. Then, to my amazement, I witnessed a huge raccoon upside down drinking from the hummingbird feeder. The thief was at least four feet off the ground, and so intent on the sugar water that it didn’t see me at first. Then I turned a flashlight on it, but that had no effect either. Finally as I began noisily opening and shouting the window, the raccoon leisurely dropped to the ground and strolled out of our backyard.

Then - assuming the role of the brilliant detective - I explained the hummingbird mystery to my wife. The very next morning, we placed the feeders so high that we could barely reach them ourselves. Fortunately, the raccoon never returned and the hummingbirds resumed their antics at our bird feeders. Ironically, we’ve never seen a raccoon in our yard before or since then, and I got to be honest with the reader, I’m not disappointed.

Chapter 2: Escape Down the Bright Angel Trail

In my early thirties, my impatience and pride led me to hurry through undertakings while often ignoring the aspirations of others. This propensity became very evident when my wife and I together with my brother-in-law and his wife, traveled to the Grand Canyon. Since I had almost no insight into my flaws, I perceived my relatives as procrastinators or even dawdlers. I insisted on hiking down the Bright Angel Trail while they preferred to snap photographs of signs, views, and mule deer.

So, in one of my impulsive moments, I confiscated all our canteens, and really began my march to the trailhead in the early afternoon. Beginning a grueling hike in the afternoon under the Arizona sun was obviously a rookie mistake. However, my self-confidence was sky-high even though I had no clue what was ahead of me.

Before long, however, the heat felt unbearable. Worse yet, the seemingly infinite switchbacks on the trail to the canyon floor were daunting. By the time I reached the foot of the trail, I knew I might be in trouble. Exhaustion and dehydration had begun to set in, but I stubbornly decided to continue moving forward. I understood that the Venetian Garden water station had to be close by, but when I reached a trail thermometer that read 115 degrees Fahrenheit, my self- assurance wilted.

Fortunately, a young British tourist from Manchester befriended me, and we hiked together for a little while. He was great company, but before long I felt so fatigued, I decided to rest under the shade of a scrawny bush. This was another rookie mistake. As my British friend disappeared around a turn on the trail, my imagination conjured up rescues by pack mules and airlifts.

To my surprise, my friend had reached the Venetian Gardens which was actually close by, and then he came back to rescue me. I followed behind him like a frightened puppy until we reached the water station. After quenching my thirst and refilling my canteens, it appeared the other hikers remained adamant about continuing on the trail to the Colorado River. I attempted to sound disappointed because my time proved to be limited.

When most of the skilled hikers had continued their journey, I turned around and began my return trip to the trail head. I reached the bottom of the zigzagging switchbacks and panicked. To ascend to the top seemed impossible. My intense anxiety led to my now recurring thoughts about pack mules and airlifts.

However, after several apprehensive moments, I recovered somewhat and considered the ways other hikers were faring on their way up the trail. These hikers were all employing the same strategy. They’d hike up a couple of turns and then sit and rest before climbing higher. Seeing their techniques, I felt remarkable relief. This could be my method of climbing as well. Naturally, I began my ascent immediately although I’m certain I looked nothing like a true hiker. After a six hour elopement, I finally reached the trial head of the Bright Angel Trail and then found my relatives irritably waiting on a bench nearby. My relatives appeared to be glad that I hadn’t fallen off a cliff or died of thirst, but they also seemed distant and irritated. Their stern expressions led me to suspect that their displeasure with me might endure for the entire trip.

It was then I decided to employ my only reliable defense. Having been married for over ten years, I realized that the only thing I could do to make things right was to render a sincere apology. By simply saying, I’m sorry, with genuine sincerity, I had always avoided explosive arguments. I certainly did feel guilty, and fortunately my latest apology eventually led to forgiveness in a couple of days.

Now I can’t say for sure whether I’d ever explore Bright Angel Trail again especially since I now recognize the physical stamina needed for such a hike. But I do believe the Grand Canyon has been a journey through nature like no other. It remains one of my fondest memories. Would I ever consider secretly hiking the trail again? No, I doubt I possess an apology persuasive enough for a second disappearance!

Chapter 3: The Last Present

Growing up in the fifties, I cherished the Christmas season like most children of the time. Our innocence about the rigors of life, and our seasonal self-indulgence created a sense of hope and exhilaration. This feeling of anticipation would gradually intensify until we finally scooped up our presents from under the tree.

This spirit of Christmas seemed especially apparent at school with our teacher, Miss Williams. We sent letters to Santa, read Christmas stories and practiced for the annual pageant. It sometimes seemed that our class would become stimulated by school activities while being told to settle down simultaneously. Young teachers often seemed to enjoy the season as much as their students and their enthusiasm was often contagious.

Nevertheless, I did experience a specific problem at school, and it continued right into the Christmas party that year. Miss Williams possessed the annoying and unfair practice of framing tasks by employing the alphabetical order protocol. Whether it meant reading my report last, going to the bookmobile after everyone else, or even getting my hearing tested, I always had to wait until the end. Since my last name is Zurn, it created the certainty that I had to patiently wait until the end for nearly everything.

Initially, I believed that Miss Williams’s system represented a subtle kind of cruelty because she didn’t like me. Later, however, it seemed more likely; the alphabetical order structure helped her insure that no one was skipped or forgotten completely. But it remained rather irksome to me especially when Miss Williams would quip, Let’s try something different and call your names in alphabetical order. I silently accepted the situation, but it proved difficult to bear sometimes.

But the class Christmas party clearly crossed the line. Miss Williams sent notes home asking (requiring) all students to bring a gift for the big event. She placed a large decorated box in the back of the room, and then the students eventually filled this container with wrapped gifts of various sizes and shapes. Then on the last afternoon before vacation, the party officially began.

Incredibly, the alphabetical code of progression again returned. However, this time much more appeared to be at stake. Instead of patiently waiting to get my hearing tested, this time I’d be choosing my present after everyone else had picked over all the others. As each of my fellow students picked a