Today would have been my Dad’s 90th birthday. He died 19 years ago; still I can not believe that he is gone from this earth. My Dad was brilliant,  graduating from McGill University not only as the youngest ever engineering student; but a Jewish one back in the day where Jewish students were restricted.

My Dad loved good food, good clothes and me. He was a terrific raconteur, and loved nothing better than to hold court telling a long convoluted joke that delivered a great punch line. In his honour I am sharing this joke with you. Happy Birthday Daddy, there will never be another you.


A woman went to the only hairdresser in town to get her hair styled for a vacation trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who was of Italian descent. “Rome? Why you go there? He responded.” It’s crowded and dirty. Full of tourists. So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re flying US Airways,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”

“US Airways!” exclaimed the hairdresser. “Too bad. That’s the worst airline. Always late. You should have asked me first. I’m always flying to Italy. So where are you staying in Rome?”

“We’ll be at this little place over on the Tiber River called Teste.”

“Oh, I know that place. Everybody thinks it’s going to be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.” You should not stay in Rome, and you should not visit the touristy things there.”

“But we want to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope!”   Exclaimed the woman

“You and and thousands of other people. He’ll look the size of an ant. Watch out you don’t get your pocket picked in the crowd.” Said the hairdresser

A month later, the woman comes back to the beauty parlor. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome. “It was wonderful,” explained the woman “not only were we on time in one of US Airways brand new planes, but the tourist class was overbooked, so they put us in first class. And the hotel was great! They too were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us a suite for the price of a room!” “Well” muttered the hairdresser “I’m happy for your good luck, but I was right it was a waste of time to try to see the Pope, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, we had a wonderful experience at the Vatican, too. A Swiss Guard tapped my husband on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet visitors, and if we’d like to step into anteroom of his quarters and wait, we would get a brief audience with the Pope. We did and five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and blessed us! He even talked to us a little.”

“Oh, really! What’d he say?”
He said, “Who fucked up your hair?”