“Mother Teresa would NOT think you’re funny.”

Series: Conversations with my Mother

“Mother Teresa would NOT think you’re funny”

That’s what my mom, Diana, said about the header on my “One Funny Mother” website when it first launched in 2010. I wanted the header to have some quotes for legitimacy, since I wasn’t ACTUALLY legitimate. I was in my “fake it til you make it” phase and didn’t have any credits or accolades so I made some up. Not wanting anyone to think these were REAL, I decided to attribute them to famous dead people I admired.

I’d always loved Abraham Lincoln and, my son, Dean had recently dressed as “Abraham Lincoln/Vampire Slayer” for Halloween, so he was at the top of my list. Twelve years of Catholic School cemented Mother Teresa’s spot on my coveted header, just above my name.

Lincoln’s quote read:

“I died laughing.”- Lincoln

Mother Teresa’s quote:

“Dena is the sh*t.”- Mother Teresa

To clarify: Abe and Terry did not say these things.

I figured that was obvious.

Since they were dead.

As a comic this seemed like a funny, subtle nod acknowledging my lack of ACTUAL credits. Di saw it different and that’s when I got the call.

“What’s up with this website you’re building?” she blurts out, when I answer the phone.

“Oh, you like it? I just picked out the colors and I’m still working with the webguy…”

“What’s up with these quote you got on here?”

It took a second to register what she was talking about since I was more concerned about the actual content than these silly quotes.

“Oh, you mean Abe and Mother Teresa? Yeah, did you like that? I just added those.”

Silence filled the space between us.

“They didn’t say this,” she blurts out, like Abe and Terry are standing next to her and she’s defending their honor.

“I know they didn’t say it, Mom. It’s a joke.”

“What’s so funny about it, if they didn’t say it?”

“I don’t know, Di!” I shot back, my mind whirling, wondering if this is the whole reason she called me. “I don’t have any ACTUAL quotes so I made these up. They’re funny. That’s it.”

“But it’s NOT funny. Abraham didn’t say this,” she corrects me.

“Of course, he didn’t say that, Diana. Number one he’s dead. Number two, I’ve never met him. And number three…it’s a joke. The whole thing is a joke.”

Starting to mellow a bit, she concedes, “Well, I guess if you think people are going to know it’s a joke.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll know Di,” I take a beat, “you, know, cause he’s dead.”

I change the subject, happy this situation is diffused when she chimes in one last time, “Well, eh, Lincoln can stay up there, but Mother Teresa has to come down.”

“What?”I whisper.

“Mother Teresa, she didn’t say that.”

Here we go again.

“Diana! I know she didn’t say that!” my voice began to rise, “That’s the point. They’re dead, I’m funny and I’m a loser with no credits- End of story.”

“Yeah, but you got her saying, “She’s the sh*t” and she would NEVER say that, so take it down.” I could feel her crooked, Italian finger pointing at me through the phone.

“I’m not taking it down, Diane,” I kick out, in a low defiant whisper. “You don’t know if she would have said that or not! Maybe if she saw me do stand-up she would have said it.”

“She would NEVER go see your stand-up!” she roars, suddenly evangelical.

“Oh, re-ally Diana” I goad, “maybe Mother Teresa LOVED stand-up!” I snap back.

Indignant and Italian, I can hear her head move side to side as she says, “You think Mother Teresa had time to go see STAND-UP!?”

“I don’t know what she did between miracles, Diana!” (Now, even I know I sound delusional) “I think if Mother Teresa had some down time and got to know me a little bit, she would think I was funny.”

“No, she wouldn’t!”

“Oh! I think she would. And I think she would think I was HILARIOUS!

Without skipping a beat, she said the worst possible thing you could say to a mildly, funny, up-and-coming, Catholic comedian.

“Mother Teresa, would NEVER think you were funny!!!”

Diana cut me deep.

“I have to go,” I relented.

I didn’t take it down but Diana and I were able to move on.

This instance aside, my mom has supported my stand-up career for 24 years. When I recently decided to join Substack, my first post was sharing memories of my dear friend, Sally, who recently passed.

I asked my mom if I could read it to her, before I shared it here. She listened intently while driving and when I finished she thought for a moment.

“That was beautiful,” she began. I nodded in appreciation, looking out the window.

“Now, I know you’ve been taking all these classes and you’re working on your writing the last few years.”

I turn my head towards her thinking, Where is this going?

“Your descriptions are wonderful. I feel like I’m in the room. It’s all real thought out,” she continued.

I squint my eyes, giving the road a side-eye.

“But”, she takes a beat, “it’s too much. You’re just saying too much.”

I take a breath and slowly confirm, “Sooooo, it’s good.

“Oh, Absolutely. Very compelling.

“And..and it’s descriptive. You can see all of it. You’re in the room.”

“Dean, it’s like I’m there.”

I pause a moment, confused, “So, you just want….less of that.”

“YES!” she turns to me, her eyes wide.

She then goes on to tell me about a speaker she just saw at her Senior Lunch Bunch, at St. Maria Goretti Church. The man was a history buff who came to speak about the 250th anniversary of America. She told me he spoke for an hour and “all he said was facts”, to which I replied, “That’s what history is."

She lamented how he could have made it more interesting and, more pertinent to our conversation, he could have “tightened it up”.

“He was real boring,” she finished.

“So, let me get this straight,” I clarify, “Are comparing my eulogy speech to a presentation of last 250 years of America History and saying I should cut it in half, so I don’t bore people?”

“I’m just saying, he probably didn’t think he was boring either.”

I politely thanked Diana for the feedback and explained when I do HER eulogy, it would be thirty seconds long and only include events that happened last Friday. I want to keep it tight.

My mom loves my stand-up but, for some reason, when I write things and read them to her, she’s got a lot of thoughts. I’m sure she’s going to email me with corrections on this piece, but I know she does it out of love.

So, I know three things.

I know my mother loves me.

Abe Lincoln died laughing from my jokes.

And Mother Teresa thinks I’m the sh*t.

Amen.