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HUMOROUS ANECDOTES
From the dawn of civilization in Newfoundland humorous anecdotes have been told and retold. Perhaps it is significant that an insular people should be gifted to a large degree with a ready sense of wit and humour. Before the advent of newspapers, radio and television the story teller was a very important person in the community, especially in the smaller outports where entertainment of any type was practically unknown. It was in such an environment that the story teller really performed in good style. Their existence might be likened to the comedians of our time. Through the medium of radio and television modern jokes and stories are brought right into out living rooms and halls of entertainment. Whereas, in the olden days the self-styled entertainer was content to squat on the floor in the corner of some kitchen or sit on a box behind the barrel oven of a wood-fired Waterloo stove and regail his audience with numerous anecdotes which he or she had acquainted during their travels. What is most amazing about these entertainers, the greater majority of them had never entered the portals of a seat of learning, yet their stories were interesting and full of adventure. Through our modern means of communication and our all- out battle against the evils of illiteracy, it is quite noticeable now, and particularly so in the outports, that an awful lot of our ready wit and humour has passed from the scene. The ability to laugh in the midst of adversity, seemed to be interwoven in the character of our people, who down through the years have always been able to crack a joke and laugh heartily when the whole world seemed to be caving in around them.

And here I am reminded of a story I heard sometime ago from one of our outport story tellers. It would seem that the winter of eighteen-forty-four was an unusually frosty one, with strong northeast and easterly gales which brought the northern ice floes on the coast of Newfoundland early in February of that year. Placentia Bay which is an almost ice free bay, was blocked solidly with northern ice late in February of the same year and as a result, the sea, the highway at that time, was closed to them. Some adventurous people did manage to haul small boats over the ice and reach other communities in the bay when supplies of food and other necessities forced them to make this perilous adventure. But apart from those daring episodes travelling was almost impossible in any direction because of the rough ice floes. During troubled times like these old people are bound to die and it was at this unfortunate period in history that grandmother Picco’s demise occurred. Everyone in the community of Gallow’s Harbour (now St. Joseph’s, Placentia Bay) knew Grandmother Picco. She was everybody’s Grandmother, from the age of nine to ninety. In addressing her as Grandmother they thought they were paying her a mark of respect, because of her great age. Legend tells us that she was well over one hundred and twenty years old when she died. She raised four generations of Picco’s during her lifetime. However, it was when the bay was solidly blocked with the northern ice floes that the unexpected death of Mrs. Picco occurred. Her demise at this time posed a great problem for her two great-great- grandsons, with whom she had lived. There were no stores or shops of any type in Gallow’s Harbour at that time and any purchases of material suitable for the lining of a coffin had to be bought in the stores on Oderin Island, about four miles or more away.

The Picco boys were really in a quandary over their great-greati- grandmother’s death. They wanted to give her the best coffin possible, but under the circumstances there wasn’t much that they could do to rectify matters without endangering their own lives by trying to get to Oderin Island at this critical period. After much deliberation, the oldest of the two great-great-grandsons, said to his younger brother, “go down the harbour, Jim and ask Maurice King if he has anything suitable that he could sell or lend us to line the old ladies coffin with. We’ve got to put a lining in her coffin, regardless.” With the instructions fresh in his mind the young lad hurried off to see the person in question. Mr. King was very apologetic over the fact that he was unable to help them in any way, as he was practically in the same boat as themselves, but on second thought, he said: “I have a new foresail belonging to my bait- skiff down on the store loft, I brought it home from St. John’s last fall, it was never used, and if that is any good to you, I’ll gladly let you have it but you must replace it in the spring.” The young lad thanked Mr. King for his kindness and hurried home to tell his brother about the suggestion that Mr. King had made. “It seems to be the only solution to the problem at this time,” said his brother, “so go back to Mr. King, Jim, and get the foresail and take it up here. We’ll see what we can do with it.” In due time the lad arrived with the foresail on his back and together the two of them spread it out over the coffin and pushed the slack canvas down into the box as much as was required and then taking the old lady, who by now was frozen solidly. Gently they laid her into the coffin and began to throw the excessive canvas in on top of her. Then they took the cover and tried to fit it in place, but despite their best efforts they could not get the cover to fit. Taking off the cover they hauled out the loose canvas and the younger of the two boys said, “get a knife and cut off what is not required.” “We’ll do nothing of the kind,” replied the older brother, “we’re not cutting an inch of this foresail. Here spread it out, we’ll tie a double reef in it, that should take care of the matter.” Silently they proceeded to tie the double reef in the sail and when it was finished they threw in the canvas and when they tried the cover this time it fitted perfectly. Now that all was ready for the funeral they nailed down the cover and retired to await the following morning, when the burial would take place.

The next morning the men folk of the community gathered for the funeral, and the two great-great- grandsons being the chief mourners, walked next to the coffin, which was being hauled to the burial grounds on a catamaran. But as they were wending their way to the churchyard, the younger of the two boys was greatly amused and despite his best efforts to be serious and respectful, he repeatedly broke into great fits of laughter, much to the embarrassment of his older brother who scolded him about his behavious and exhorted him to be respectful of the dead but it was all to no avail. Finally in desperation, he asked, “what’s so funny about this funeral that you can’t help laughing?” Looking at his brother the young lad said, between fits of laughter. “I can’t help thinking about what great-great-grandfather is going to say when he sees the old lady coming in with a double reef foresail on her.” Here a humourous note struck the older brother and he laughed also and said: “All the old boy can say is that the old girl must have had a rough time making port.”