a review of:
An Island Full of Laughter: The Humor of Whidbey Island
Edited by Jerry Mercer, with an introduction by Jim Freeman
Saratoga Design: Box 114, Greenbank, WA
148pp. Paper, $14.95 0-9762196-0-3

An Island Full of Laughter delivers humorous stories, poems, essays, and anecdotes contributed by Whidbey writers, beginning with Jim Freeman’s foreword: “Please note that this particular Foreword, unlike breathing, is strictly optional.”

Many of these writers are active members of the Whidbey Island Writers Association; in fact the idea for this book was born in a WIWA-sponsored class in writing humor. The authors are a typical cross-section of Whidbey residents from retired military to old hippies; their bios alone make interesting reading. (At this point, however, in the interests of full disclosure, I must warn you that the anthology does include an odd piece by one Ude which is probably best avoided and which we will not deign to mention further here.)

There’s a little of everything, including limericks. One of Ann Gerike’s begins:

“A poet, long-haired, in Oak Harbor

Grew a beard that encircled an arbor...”

Some stories capture us from the first line, as does Natalie Olsen’s “Knives.” “The guy on the phone said he got my name and unlisted number from Merry, who up until that moment had been a good friend of mine.” The same is true of Dallas Hanes’ “Portagee Bob’s Chicken Plucker”: “Portagee Bob Prune, of the Booger Cover Prunes, isn’t really Portuguese (he’s just always admired those early explorers) but he is an innovatin’ man. Like when Cousin Claude shot Bob’s prize Pontiac...“

Some pieces explore Whidbey traditions, as does Linda Beeman’s account of crabbing along the shore. Sometimes you catch the crab, and sometimes the crab catches you. Or, as in Fena Gelfand’s “Nature vs. Nurture,” sometimes it’s the raccoon, despite her husband’s “high sensitivity microphone with an FM tuner that picks up everything from here to the next block. All we have to do is tune our clock radio to the same frequency and when he starts traipsing around in the middle of the night we’ll hear it...”

Some tales actually take place off-Island, even as far away as Texas. Donna Hood recounts for us the most complex snipe hunt ever, one arranged by a truly ingenious Texas rancher. The usual snipe hunt ends sooner or later, but this one...

Whidbey people are known throughout the Northwest—well, perhaps notorious is a better word—for the quality of our intelligence. It is only natural, then, that a number of these pieces push back the frontiers of knowledge.

A much-needed contribution to the theories of the universe is Steve Ellis’ theory of the Losting Vortex. Lurking somewhere in outer space is “A gigantic gray eddy swirling in the darkness. Occasionally the rim expands to the Earth, sucking up items at random. Address books, single earrings...”

Occasionally mistaken history simply has to be set straight. Fortunately, Gail Madden’s “If the Shoe Fits” corrects the errors found in most accounts of Ella, that girl with the supposedly glass shoe. The real reason she left the Prince’s party before midnight? “She had forgotten her Prozac dose and she just panicked.”

We also have some genealogical explorations and historical insights, as in Jerry Mercer’s discovery of papers of his Crusader ancestor, Jean Claude Mercier du Husier, Husier being a “Midwestern French province noted for tall corn and fat hogs.” No reader will ever think of the Crusades in the same way again.

We’re even treated to a scholarly explication, Marian Blue’s “You are my Sunshine,” which begins “...well, not my ONLY sunshine. That is, I’m not placing you in a position of responsibility for my well-being and happiness...”

Other essays offer wisdom. “Dog owners see their dogs the same way parents look at their children. ‘Our children are perfect. And other folks’ kids, well... are not.’” Anyone who’s ever walked a perfectly-behaved dog on Double Bluff knows the truth of that one. Cameron Castle, on the other hand, finds insight only after he explores his own possible racism, sexism, ageism as a driver, accusing himself of hating only those groups — until he realizes “I hate all drivers! I’m not racist! I’m not sexist!... I hate anyone who is driving a car who is not me.”

Judy Talbot’s “The Price of Independence” takes another approach to the ubiquitous auto as she explores the dangers of buying a used sports car. There’s always the possibility that “the spark plugs don’t ignite, the carburetor doesn’t eject, and the fan belt doesn’t propel.” When those are the car’s good points, you’re really in trouble.

Some pieces are pure celebration. Nasus (alias Susan) Nunn’s “Days of Dark Chocolate,” an account of both courtship and candies: “bittersweet bits/ dark chocolate chips/ delicious desire/ cordial denial.” Barbara Olszta’s “How I Became a Skier” moves from apprehension, even fear, to its own celebration — with a few pratfalls along the way.

While some of these pieces MAY perhaps be exaggerated or perhaps even made up out of whole cloth (that is, fiction, otherwise known as ‘plain or fancy lying’) some have the ring of absolute truth. One such is Julian Taber’s “The Dishwasher’s Story,” an account of an encounter with the “windshield fairy,” who “before there were windshields... used to get herself stepped on by horses,” but now frightens automobile drivers instead by appearing to smash herself on, of course, their windshields. In another piece Taber will explain the methods he uses to speak with rocks, which in turn are able to convey messages from “Roxanne or, as she is generally known among the stoned, Mother Rock,,, the source of all true rock insight.” I’m not sure whether the title of that one refers to the essay or its author: “The Stoned Counselor.”

Some stories can’t be summarized. Ann Gerike’s “Happy Birthday, Marge,” is one such. Alas, we husbands’ best plans for birthdays, anniversaries, or the Christmas holidays can go so far astray,,, Fortunately, there are no well-intentioned husbands in Dorothy Read’s “Foote O.T.,” a funny and heart-warming account of the stratagems resorted to by a group of Virginia boys in the 1940s to get around adults’ notions that they shouldn’t play with the only black child in the neighborhood.

Whidbey’s sense of humor is as varied as its people, and this book fits right in. Enjoy!

An Island Full of Laughter is available at Kingfisher’s in Coupeville, Book Bay in Freeland, and The Moonraker in Langley.

A reformed fiddlefoot, Wayne Ude grew up in Montana, earned an MFA from UMass-Amherst, directed social services programs in Montana and Massachusetts, taught in and directed creative writing programs on the MA level for 17 years, and has published four books of fiction. Since 1993 he has lived, written, and taught on Whidbey Island.