Blazing Nostrils

There's a joke by a very funny and very dead comedian, Henny Youngman. He was known as the king of the one-liners. It goes (and I'm paraphrasing here):

 

     "I went to the doctor the other day. I told him, 'Doc, it hurts when I do this.' He said, 'Then don't do that.'"

 
     Did I ever tell you that several years back, I was having dizzy spells? Every time I stood up, if I got up too fast, my head would spin and I'd have to sit back down until I got my sea-legs again.
     So I went to my General Practitioner. My family doctor, in other words. He's a good doctor. He's took the Hippocratic Oath and everything. Anyway...
     At the office, I tell him, "Doc, I'm having dizzy spells. Every time I get up, I have to sit back down, because my head starts spinning. I don't know what's wrong."
     So the doctor does what doctors do. He hems and haws, adjusts his glasses, and looks over my file. Then, without asking any questions or missing a beat, he tells me, "Well, don't get up so fast."
     Since I had his attention, I thought I'd ask him another question.
     "Doc, is petroleum jelly flammable?"
     "As a matter of fact, yes, petroleum jelly is flammable," he informed me, "but only when it's heated to a liquid. When it's heated to a liquid, the fumes will catch fire, but not the liquid itself. However, a wick material--like leaves, bark, or small twigs--is needed to ignite the petroleum jelly. And don't call me 'doc'."
     Who knew he'd know so much about petroleum jelly?

     The reason I asked him that was because years ago when my Mom was still alive, she once told me that my Dad's nose used to dry up. Dad, being the medical man that he wasn't, would treat the dryness with Vaseline.
     I don't know why she felt the need to tell me all that, especially while I was eating breakfast, but I just filed it away with all the other odd information she was fond of passing on. Like if you go outside with your hair wet you'll catch a cold and die or if you eat a watermelon seed it will sprout inside your stomach or if you look at a dog go to the bathroom you'll get a sty in your eye. As a kid, I didn't even know what a sty was, so I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
     One day soon after, I'm talking with my Mom and she tells me that she is worried about my father.
     "Worried about what, Mom?"
      My mother tells me she's afraid my father's nose will catch on fire.
     What?

     "His nose will catch on fire?" I ask, wanting to make sure I heard what I heard.
     I also laughed, but to myself.

     She explains to me that my father--her husband--has a jar of Vaseline next to his bed.
     "And?" I ask.
     And he uses it for his nose. When my father's nostrils dry up, you see, he'll put some Vaseline up and all around his nose.
     "What's wrong with that?" I ask her. "I mean, if it keeps his nose, um, moisturized."

     What's wrong with that, she tells me, is that my father's nose could catch on fire.
     What?
     "Vaseline is petroleum jelly," she tells me like I'm an idiot, "and petroleum jelly is made from petroleum. You know, they make gasoline out of petroleum, so I'm afraid that if Dad gets too close to a flame, his nose will catch on fire and he will burn up. Then the container next to the bed could catch on fire and I'd burn up, too. I was told to put the jar in a safe place. and to keep dad away from any open flames."
     "Who told you that?"
     "Somebody."

     Hmmm... I'm thinking to myself... could that somebody have been Smokey Bear?
     I look at my mother. Could she be smoking something one of my younger brothers might have given her for Christmas? Should I have her checked out to make sure she isn't a danger to herself or to my father?

     I asked my mother, "Somebody who?"

     "Well," my Mom said, not really wanting to drop a dime on anyone, "your brother is the one that told me."
     "Which one?"
     "The middle one. He's worried about dad having the Vaseline in his nose and next to the bed. He's afraid that Dad's nose might catch on fire if he gets too close to a flame. Then, with his nose on fire, the jar would catch on fire and spread onto the bed. I would die in that fire!"

     What?
     "Are there any flames near your bed?" I asked her.
     "No," she said.

     I pretty much left it at that.
     I knew it was a subject way over my ability to explain to her that her middle son, who has no medical degree of any kind, was full of crap. I just told her that since Dad doesn't smoke any more and since he doesn't have the habit of holding lit matches up to his nose, everyone, including my younger brother, should be safe.
     I think she slept well for the first time in a long time that night.
 
 

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