I sometimes wonder if there is any such thing as Ozark humor, although I talk about it all the time. Ozark humor, to me, has always been the way mountain people look at things in the first place; expecting everything to have a funny side and if it doesn't, making one.

Like the old lady who hated having to stay in the root cellar for hours every time the sky looked black. Her husband was mortally afraid of tornadoes, and for 40 years she had to go with him down there and hide out until he thought it was safe. And every time, the storm had gone around or the tornado missed them and everything was fine. Then, last summer after four damp hours in the "fraidy" hole, her husband got up nerve to look out and there wasn't a building standing on the farm . A tornado had leveled the place. "Finally!" said the old lady, "Now this is what a body is supposed to see when you crawl out of a storm cellar!"

Now I'm pretty sure that's Ozark humor and in case you're not convinced, here's one I know is:

Forty years ago, when the lead mines were going full blast, I heard this story from a Dent County woodcutter, turned miner.

"Well now, these two fellers from Arkinsaw was workin' down below, and they got to wondering how come us Missoura boys got to work up above ground, loadin' the ore, while they had to work down there where it was black as the inside of a tire. One says to the other'un, 'I aim to ride the next load up,' he says, 'and ask the foreman why us Arkinsaw boys has to do dirty work down here by hand, while Missoura boys gets to operate machinery up there in the sunshine.'

"Well, sir, so up he comes, and goes right to the foreman and asks how come Arkinsawyers is discriminated against. And the foreman says, 'Well now, it ain't discrimination, it's mainly a matter of hand-eye coordination that you'uns lack. But I can illustrate it better'n I can explain it to ye. I'm gonna put my hand up against this here wall and you hit it hard as ye can with your fist.'

"So the Arkinsaw boy winds up. WHAM! He comes down at the foreman's hand but the foreman jerks his paw out of the way and the Arkinsaw feller mashes his fist against the wall.

"The Arkinsaw boy comes back down on the cage and his buddy runs right over to see what the foreman said. The first feller tells him, 'Well it ain't discrimination, it's a matter of hand-eye coordination,' he says, it'd be easier to illustrate than explain it to ye.' He held his hand up in front of his face and says, 'Now you take a lick at my hand, hard as you can, with your shovel.'" n