All posts by Jerry Godsey

Taking A Beautiful Woman To Dinner

I took a beautiful woman to dinner the other night. Anybody watching would have seen us holding hands across the dinner table, laughing and joking. In short, we were having a great time. I looked into her eyes and felt things that only a man infatuated with a woman can feel. I must tell you, she was a real knockout. On a scale of one to ten, she was at least a fifteen.

Who was this wonderful woman, you ask. My wife, Lanette. Continue reading Taking A Beautiful Woman To Dinner

The Screen And Ladder Fiasco

I was a third grader and I had forgotten my house key. The only way to get in the house was to climb a ladder to get in through the side window. I forgot to put the screen back on and didn’t think anything about it. I went about the rest of my afternoon doing whatever thrilling stuff I did at that age.

My mom called after she got off work and said we were going to get something to eat, so we piled in our 65 Chevy Nova and went to McDonalds. As we returned home I remembered that I had left the screen off the window and my mom was going to be angry. So I ran ahead of my family and climbed the ladder to put the screen back on. Here’s where it gets weird… Continue reading The Screen And Ladder Fiasco

Bees In My Fountain

A few years ago I gave up trying to grow a lawn. The combination of my front yard’s alkali ridden soil and my total lack of gardening expertise hastened the decision.

My grandfather had what is known as a green thumb. He could grow roses on a brick. I on the other hand, have a bIack thumb. If killing plants was murder I would be the most prolific serial killer in the world. So I took out all of the grass and replaced it with river rocks and a nice fountain. Now, instead of trying to water and mow every week, I pull weeds three or four times a year. Continue reading Bees In My Fountain

Independence Day

When the founding fathers met in those back rooms to lay out the government for a new nation so many years ago, I wonder if they had any idea what their new country would become?

I wonder if they knew that their framing of the right to privacy would someday be interpreted to include the killing of unborn children?

I wonder if they could comprehend that the freedom of speech would include pictures of men and women being degraded and abased in pornography? Continue reading Independence Day

Praying By The Fishsticks

Have you ever prayed by the fish sticks? I have. Well, I should have.

While youth pastoring at my grandfather’s church in Beaumont, CA, I went shopping at the local Alpha Beta. As I turned down the frozen food aisle, I noticed a woman of about fifty looking into the frozen fish sticks and weeping. Continue reading Praying By The Fishsticks

Shaving It All Off

Don’t get me wrong, I like Walter Mathau. He was a fine actor. I just didn’t want to look like him. So imagine my shock when I looked in the mirror, and instead of my face, Walter Mathau stared back at me.

Maybe I need to explain myself. It all started with my grandpa…

“Why don’t you shave off your beard, Jerry? You look like a criminal.” Hardly the kind of support you look for from your grandfather, but his true thoughts nonetheless. His simple statement sent my head spinning. “What would I look like without my beard?” I wondered. So a few years ago I just shaved it off. After twenty years with a mustache, over twelve years with a beard of some sort, I shaved it all off. Continue reading Shaving It All Off

Soren Pooping

I never thought that pooping would be considered cute. And, for most people, it probably isn’t. But my grandson, Soren, is not most people.

He groans and his whole body shakes, then he grunts hard. All the while, his grandma and I laugh like hyenas on a bender. We make cooing noises and say things like, “You’re pooping, aren’t you? What a cutie! He’s so cute.” And we mean it. He’s pooping, and we think it’s the cutest thing in the world! We really need to get out of the house more often… Continue reading Soren Pooping

The Polygraph Test

There I was, trapped in a small room. There were no pictures on the wall, and my “host” was behind me, out of sight. The technician wound cables around my chest area and attached sensors to the tips of my fingers. As he strapped on the last of his sinister torture devices, I thought I heard a maniacal laugh escape from his throat.

“The test will now begin,” he said in a low voice. Over the next few hours (okay minutes), I struggled to answer his questions. My mind raced, my heart pumped faster, my palms and armpits began to sweat. Finally it was over. Continue reading The Polygraph Test