Did He Die?

I have more than once been complimented for my humor – which is really too kind – but though I am in my second semester in learning accounting, I don’t quite know how to account for any ability I may have to make people laugh. However, I will tell you a short but completely true story that may settle the question of whether my sense of humor is hereditary. Read carefully – and you be the judge.
I repeat that this story is true, and that none of the names have been altered as in past writings. My Grandpa Boley, who is to be 89 this July, greatly enjoys humor himself, and he often expresses it by way of telling jokes. In September of 2003, my mother and sister and I journeyed to the Washington, D.C. area, where my grandparents live in the suburb of Annandale. We were gathered in their small old house in a small old neighborhood, and we were all sitting at the table after a small dinner. My Uncle John, who lives in Maryland, had joined us for the repast. As is his custom, my grandfather spontaneously broke out in a joke, which I will relate to you just as he told it that evening.
“So there were these two old pals, Jack and Sam. They were baseball players in their youth, and had played on the same minor-league team for years. Their friendship lasted over the decades until finally Sam died. Jack was heartbroken over the loss of his friend.
“One strange night, Jack awoke and felt that someone was in his room. He sat up and sleepily looked around him. To his surprise, Jack saw none other than the ghost of his old friend Sam standing very near his bed.
“’Sam!’ he cried. ‘Is it really you?’
“’It is, I, Jack’ returned the ghost (it was Sam, all right – the same old voice). ‘It’s Sam, your old pal.’
“’Tell me, Sam,’ inquired Jack, ‘What’s it like in the afterlife? Is there baseball in heaven?’
“’I’ll tell you what, Jack,’ said Sam slowly and thoughtfully; ‘I’ve got good news and bad news for you.’
“’Oh, dear’, said Jack; ‘I don’t like bad news – give me the good news first.’
“’All right’, said Sam. ‘Here’s the good news. There is baseball in heaven.’
“’Truly?’ gasped Jack. ‘Just like here?’
“’Just like here, but better,’ replied Sam. ‘You wouldn’t believe the fields they have – so crisp and well-kept every game. And there’s never a rain-out. What’s more, they sell out every game up there. The crowds are tremendous.’
“’Wow!’ whispered Jack in awe. ‘You certainly are in a better place now, Sam. I don’t think I’ll be so sad anymore.’ But then Jack’s face fell. ‘You said there was bad news, too?’
Sam nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, Jack, I have bad news. You’re pitching tomorrow.’”
Well, of course, all of us chuckled as we sat around that table, just as you no doubt chuckled a second ago – all of us, that is, except my Uncle John. He may have smiled just to be polite, but he was also strangely silent as he sat in his chair. After the last chuckle had died away, we all turned to my Uncle John, who piped up:
No, really, this is exactly what he said, and I’m not making this up:
“So did he die?”*

*Author’s Note: It is my sincere hope that none of my readers are as humorously-challenged as my Uncle John. But just in case there are one or two, I will explain. We all know that Sam died. To paraphrase Charles Dickens – “Sam was dead – there is no doubt whatever about that.” The question to be settled is whether or not Jack died. Yes, Jack died. How could he not have, if he was pitching tomorrow in the baseball league in heaven? If you still don’t get it, please email me or chat with me when I’m online, and we can straighten it out without anyone else having to know you don’t get the joke. Furthermore, let me say that I am very aware of the theological problems inherent in this joke. My grandfather is not a theologian.