A conversation with a bookstore owner reminded me that some folks don’t think the way I do. It’s a good thing, I guess, but it’s quite a shock to learn I’ve been swimming out of the current most of the time.

The store owner and I were talking about various types of books (humor, travel, cookbooks, etc.) when the book man said, “Humor doesn’t appeal to everyone, but cookbooks do.” I agreed with him verbally, but my mind was churning.

Humor doesn’t appeal to everyone? How can that be? Where I grew up, humor was a way of life. I grew up in a farming community, and you won’t find many farmers who don’t have a keen sense of humor. They have to.

Many of the things that happen on a farm are so totally unpredictable, the only thing folks can do about them is laugh – or cry. It just doesn’t seem right for a grown man to spend most of his life crying, so farmers try to find some humor in everything they can.

I remember going to school when I was a kid and seeking out the funniest kids to sit next to. The worst thing that could happen to a farm kid was to get stuck next to some bug-eyed chemistry fiend or a  sour-faced Shakespeare fan. We did everything we could to prevent such a disaster.

Even the teachers had a sense of humor in those days. They had no choice: Losing your sense of humor was a short hop from a nervous breakdown for a small town schoolteacher. There were exceptions, though.

The one I remember best was Miss Barker (not her real name). Miss Barker began teaching in the days when schools wouldn’t hire a woman teacher if she was married. Then, when she got married, she had to quit teaching.

Most of these young teachers didn’t last very long. They found a nice bachelor farmer, got married and had to quit teaching. But the school board knew they had a deal with Miss Barker. Everybody could see she was in this thing for the long haul.

The thing I remember most about Miss Barker was her penchant for denying the humor around her. We did our best to cheer her up, but it never seemed to help. One of the students would pull something we thought especially amusing, and she would say, “You may have thought that was funny, but I certainly didn’t.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Barker,” we’d tell her. “You just hang in there, and you’ll probably catch on right away next time.”

I often think of Miss Barker when I’m browsing around a bookstore and notice their skimpy little humor section. I know it’s kind of silly, but I can’t help looking over my shoulder, expecting to hear Miss Barker saying, “Humor doesn’t appeal to everyone. Maybe you’d like one of these cookbooks over here under the cat?”

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.