My dad had three puns that were so bad, they were only permitted on his birthday–and one was pretty challenging to employ on June 28th.
Jim Walsh would have been 76 years old today. He came from a long line of punsters and its with mixed emotions that his grandchildren also subject unsuspecting audiences to his legacy.
At his funeral, 19 years ago, we passed around two leather-bound green books for folks to jot down their favorite memories of my dad, a precurser to the amazing testimonial strings found on Facebook at the passing of a loved one.
My college buddy Dan added two of his favorite groaners from my dad’s visit to campus on his tri-state route, often in the South Bend area selling windshields to … Read More…