Raconteurism

Before we begin this blog I want to respond to the anonymous "BD" who asked, "Is there another word for synonym?"  Yes, BD there is and it is synonyme which is French for synonym proving that all is fair in love and semantics.  It also explains why I am antisemantic.

But, I digress.

Raconteurs are people who tell stories well and with great gusto.  Their stories are also interesting.  I'm sure you can count the times you've sat with someone who rambled on ad infinitum and ad nauseum only to get to the point of the story which was, "And my folks came home at the time they were expected and we put up the storm windows, had a sandwich and went to the movies."

The tag line is usually followed by great peals of laughter from the teller and the temptation to do some peeling of their own from the long suffering and burdened listeners.

Real raconteurs savour that which they relate and even embellish the tale a bit just to make the story a tad more interesting.  They can be forgiven for this as they are performing a public service.  If you know any real raconteurs you will know  that sometimes the things they tell you are 100% factual and some are only 10% factual and the rest fall anywhere along the scale.  But the practiced raconteur will never let you know how much is real and how much is not.  And if you love the story or are amused by it in some small way....who cares?

I tell you all of this because from time to time I'm gonna tell you a story...like this one....

Some jokes are based in truth.  Sometimes they cease to be funny when the truth upon which they are based is discovered.

When I was fourteen years old I became interested in photography.  Since I lived in a small town and worked cheap, I was able to get a job as a "stringer" for most of the local publications.  A "stringer" is a person who is paid for a picture only if it is actually printed by a publication.  At five dollars per shot printed, "photo opportunity" meant much more to me personally then than it does now.

I had been listening to the radio when I heard the announcer break into the music and announce that a man was perched on the eighth story ledge of the town's one hotel and was threatening to jump.  I grabbed my Rolleiflex camera and asked my father to drive me to the hotel.  My mother objected loudly saying that it was no place for a boy of my tender years, but was drowned out by the sound of the slamming door and the car pulling out of the driveway.

My father and I arrived at the hotel in about five minutes and were greeted by John Hess the town's only full time newspaper photographer and another "stringer" known only as "Herman the German."  (Remember the 2nd world war was barely over, so this kind of name calling was permitted.)

"Glad you're here, my boy," said John Hess.  This greeting both puzzled and elated me as I thought I was finally being accepted into the ranks of the pros but couldn't understand this largesse from a man who barely spoke to me at any other time.  But my elation quickly turned sour when I heard the explanation for Hess' hospitable greeting.

"We need three," John explained, "You catch the guy when he leaves the ledge, Herman here will catch him in mid air and I'll shoot him when he hits the ground."  (No motor drives on the cameras back then) Only I was relieved when the potential jumper's parish priest arrived and talked the man back into the hotel.

As I said, most jokes are based in truth.  There is a photographer's joke about one photographer telling another about something he saw on his way to work.  He described a man in tattered, but once elegant clothes, lying in the gutter in front of the photographer's studio.  He had his hand extended "just like that of the guy on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel" and was imploring the photographer to help.  His friend then asks his co-worker, "Well, what did you give him?"

"The light was pretty good," was the reply, "F16 at 100th of a second."

Not funny after that time I spent focusing my camera and my soul on the hotel ledge and the man who didn't jump. 

Welcome to the magical misery tour.