Life is too important to be taken seriously.
My husband and I got married when we were eighteen years old, having decided it would be an interesting thing to do. A few weeks after we were married, Jack asked me to do an errand for him. Being newly married, I was happy to oblige. His exact words were, “Go…and sin no more.” Right then, I knew I was married to a ripper.
To a ripper, everything is grist for the humor mill. A new work uniform, the red light on a telephone, or even a banana (don’t ask) are all deadly fun in the hands of a ripper.
The problem is that after so many years of living with this man, I have been infected with rippery. Now if I had remained quietly at home, minding my own business, and had avoided public gatherings, the rip syndrome could have been managed and gone largely unnoticed. However, I have somehow always been in the public eye.
For over twenty years, I was a high school mathematics teacher, which is a magnet for rippery if there ever was one. Now I am on social media, which only intensifies the desire to rip.
I write a blog—a mostly non-serious blog that has attracted a few followers. It makes me wonder why they follow me? I feel like I have nothing to offer, just “nonsense, whims, and follies”, to borrow from Jane Austen.
I am serious about social justice and will not hesitate to call out injustice, abuse, misogyny, racism, sexism, ageism, and ableism. But I just don’t have the chops to write about Sturm und Drang sorts of things. I blame Jack for that.
As I said, my husband gave me the ripper virus soon after we were married, and I have never recovered. For example, the other day at El Patron, we ordered two bean burritos. I searched through my coins for the exact change and thought I was one penny short. Then I found it hidden under the other coins. I told the girl at the counter, “Here is the other penny; it was just shy.”
Jack said, “So you were shy a penny.” We both cracked up and repeated the joke to ourselves, you know, to get another laugh. The girl at the counter merely smiled.
Jack said, “It’s an old-people joke.” And then we laughed again.
So I ask you, coming from this sort of home environment, how am I to handle all of the serious stuff I read on social media? If someone posts a serious blog, I do not want to disrespect him or her by responding with levity in the Comment section.
So if you other bloggers out there think that I am ignoring you, I’m not. I respect your writing; I enjoy reading what you write. It’s just that I cannot think of something serious in response. I am under the influence of Jack the Ripper.