For months, Leah had been nagging her husband to go with her to the seance parlor of Madame Sadie.
"Cyril, Madame Sadie is a real gypsy and she brings the voices of the dead from the other world. We all talk to them. Last week, I talked with my mother, may she rest in peace. Cyril, for only $30 you can talk to your Zaida who you miss so much."
Cyril could not resist and at the next seance, there was Cyril sitting under the colored light at the green table, holding hands with the person on each side of him. All were humming.
Madame Sadie, her eyes lost in trance, was making passes over a crystal ball. "My medium Vashtri, who is that with you? Mr. Himmelfarb? Cyril's Zaida?"
Cyril swallowed the lump in his throat and called, "Grandpa? Zaida?"
"Ah, Cyril?" a thin voice quavered.
"Yes, yes," cried Cyril, "this is your Cyril, Zaida, are you happy in the other world?"
"Cyril, I am in bliss. I'm with your bubba. We laugh, we sing, we gaze upon the shining face of the Lord."
Cyril asks his Zaida many questions and his zaida answers each, until...
"So now, Cyril, I have to go. The angels are calling. Just one more question I can answer. Ask. Ask."
"Zaida," sighed Cyril, "when did you learn to speak English?"
The scene is sometime in the old era when cockpits had round dials plus flight engineers and navigators. The crusty old-timer captain is breaking in a brand new navigator.
The captain opens his briefcase, pulls out a .38 and rests it on the glare panel. He asks the navigator, "Know what this is for?"
"No, sir," replies the newbie.
"I use it on navigators that get us lost," explains the captain, winking at his first officer.
The navigator then opens his briefcase, pulls out a .45 an sets it on his chart table.
"What's THAT for?" queries the surprised captain.
"Well, sir," replies the navigator, "I'll know we're lost before you will."