Laughs at Her Own Jokes

I have an amazing ability to entertain myself. I believe it comes from being raised as an only child in a very small town before daycare, pre-school and kindergarten. My first organized social group was the first grade, so I had years of toddling around by myself followed by  standing alone during recess for the better part of my first grade year, according to my mother who never lied about things like that… plus she had a bird’s-eye view of the school playground from her kitchen window so why would anyone doubt her.

One of the tools I learned to use to connect to other kids was humor. When I was growing up in the 1950s in the somewhat unorthodox household of my maternal grandmother, her two adult sons who were 20th. century pioneers  in the 21st. century phenomenon of grown children who refuse to allow their parents to become empty-nesters; my mother and dad, my dog Rex and me, laughter was the sound heard most often at any time of the day or night in the little Sears Catalog kit house we called home in Richards, Texas.

My daddy was funny. My grandmother was a practical joker and always had a scheme that was designed to end in a good laugh at somebody’s expense. One of my uncles owned a metal detector and spent every day looking for General Santa Ana’s buried gold bullion in Grimes County and the surrounding Texas countryside because he had bought infallible maps that were better than a modern-day GPS for locating them. Needless to say, he was a daily inspiration for comedy.

My paternal grandmother, who lived just down a small hill from where I lived with my other grandmother, was a true Texas storyteller with an amazing gift for mimicry. She could mock anyone in town –  or really anywhere –  if she knew them or was kin to them. She loved to laugh at her own jokes and improvisations. Sitting with her and my grandfather at the little round table in her kitchen was a recipe for laughing so hard tears rolled down our cheeks.

With such a heritage it’s no wonder I became a storyteller myself and slowly recognized the transformative power of humor. As a young teenager, I couldn’t articulate what the gift was, but I had an inkling of how the ability to make someone laugh was a universal connection for me to them. People liked me when I told stories that made them smile, and I also laughed at my own jokes with them…just like my grandmother had done.

Fifty years later I began to write and incorporated humor in my writing.  It wasn’t  an effort to be funny – I never took classes to be funny. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know until recently that there were classes to teach techniques for comedy in writing.  However,  on my Facebook profile I listed my job as “essayist with humorist tendencies.” Since I’m a lesbian, I thought that was a witty play on words.

Two months ago I had an interesting voicemail from a woman who publishes trade magazines here in Columbia.  She was looking for a “local humorist” to write something funny for an upcoming new publication she planned to launch this summer, and someone had given her my name. She researched my Facebook page and my blogs and determined I was funny so would I write something for her new publication. She would pay me for my contribution. I called her back, and we struck a deal for a short short of 500 words. I had an April 30th. deadline.

This became an important learning exercise for me. For starters, I had never been paid to be amusing, and I found I couldn’t think of one funny thing to write about. I panicked. I talked to Teresa who gave me several ideas which I tried to use – but failed to be able to make them work. I stared at my blank computer screen for several days and totally understood for the first time what writer’s block was all about. I freaked out.

Finally, FINALLY I wrote not one, but two, new pieces within her word count and sent them off with my permission to use either one or neither and I would try again. Luckily, she liked both pieces and picked one for the upcoming issue. She and her staff thought both of them were funny. Thank God.  Turns out humor can be a serious business.

I continue to be the only child who has the ability to entertain herself. Blogging gives me instant gratification for my storytelling humorist tendencies, and I love sending my words into cyberspace with the hope someone will identify with them and connect to me.




About Sheila Morris

Sheila Morris is a personal historian, essayist with humorist tendencies, lesbian activist, truth seeker and speaker in the tradition of other female Texas storytellers including her paternal grandmother. In December, 2017, the University of South Carolina Press published her collection of first-person accounts of a few of the people primarily responsible for the development of LGBTQ organizations in South Carolina. Southern Perspectives on the Queer Movement: Committed to Home will resonate with everyone interested in LGBTQ history in the South during the tumultuous times from the AIDS pandemic to marriage equality. She has published five nonfiction books including two memoirs, an essay compilation and two collections of her favorite blogs from I'll Call It Like I See It. Her first book, Deep in the Heart: A Memoir of Love and Longing received a Golden Crown Literary Society Award in 2008. Her writings have been included in various anthologies - most recently the 2017 Saints and Sinners Literary Magazine. Her latest book, Four Ticket Ride, was released in January, 2019. She is a displaced Texan living in South Carolina with her wife Teresa Williams and their dogs Spike, Charly and Carl. She is also Naynay to her two granddaughters Ella and Molly James who light up her life for real. Born in rural Grimes County, Texas in 1946 her Texas roots still run wide and deep.
This entry was posted in Humor, Lesbian Literary, Life, Personal, Random, Reflections, Slice of Life, sports, The Way Life Is and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Laughs at Her Own Jokes

  1. Carol says:



  2. You know, everyone tells me that I’m funny. I am only child as well and brought up without daycare. Both of my parents worked and I was very much a loner. I learned to read and write early. I always learn things about myself when I come over here and read your posts. Kindred spirits, in a way, too. 🙂 and congrats on the writing gig, that’s cool beans.


    • I believe you are very funny, Robin, and a good writer to go along with your humor! Whenever I saw your old blog title Peace, Love and Great Country Music – I knew we were kindred spirits…:)


  3. boblamb says:

    One of your best, Sheila.


    • Thanks very much, Bob – I always am pleased to get your approval!!
      I hope you and Margaret and your sons with two legs and the ones with four legs are all doing well…I miss you.


  4. Isn’t something how being paid can knock the wind out of your creativity?! Holy crap! What do I write, paint, compose, say?/But Sheila, you’ve got the genius, well honed, and I know those two pieces were brilliant. Congratulations!

    Once again I am so glad our cyber connection clicked. 😀



    • Ann,
      What’s funny about the pieces I ended up sending is that they did not pass Teresa’s rigorous standards for my writing! I asked her to read them and she said, well, they’re ok – but I think you can do better!! 🙂
      By that time, I was over it and clicked the send button.
      And I am also once again grateful for our cyber connection…I always hope for the best for you and your gang!
      Much love,


  5. Pingback: Laughs at Her Own Jokes | I'll Call It Like I See It

  6. Dianne Heiser says:

    Congratulations, Sheila😊


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