My old school
The board of education in a nearby town sold off a building that had been a one-room schoolhouse. The buyer converted it to a tavern. One day an elderly man was walking by the place with his grandson and pointed to the building. "That's where I went to school when I was your age."
"Really," said the boy. "Who was your bartender back then?"
"Where's my Sunday paper?!" the irate customer calling the newspaper office loudly demanded, wanting to know where her Sunday edition was.
"Ma'am," said the newspaper employee, "today is Saturday. The Sunday paper is not delivered until tomorrow, on Sunday."
There was quite a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a ray of recognition, as she was heard to mutter, "Well, that's why no one was at church today!"
"Hello Mrs. Frobisher" said the bearded guy behind the counter at the bagel shop.
My husband and I looked at him but drew complete blanks. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?" I asked.
"Yeah, you was my English teacher."
Leaning over, my husband whispered, "Good job, Honey, good job."
On a spring break trip to Italy, my friends and I were standing just inside St. Peter's Basilica, the second largest church in the world. The tour guide explained, "This church is so large that no man on earth could hit a baseball from one end to the other, not Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, or even Mark McGuire."
My group stared in silence at the beautiful marble sculptures, intricate paintings, and glorious mosaics all around the enormous building. Then one girl interrupted the silence with an astonished question: "You mean, they actually let them hit baseballs in here?"