Tongue in cheek

My sense of humour and the ability to laugh at myself have been handed down to me by my father. I seem to have your funny bones dad! In the cellar, I store my old school books which carry teachers’ annotations: “Pogon pretended to be a chicken during the biology class” (signed Ostrich, MA), or “When reciting a poem about Lenin, the pupil made a sound, and it didn’t come from his mouth”. From then on it only got better. My contacts with my disabled Friends have given a new dimension to my “tongue in cheek” character. Anyone who has read and seen “One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest” can picture our relations and methods of communication. I am sure that my namesake St. Peter likes to play a heavenly game entitled: Pogon-Faulty Product, where a small fella gets a new life bonus every time something funny happens in the labyrinth of his everyday life. And that's what I hold onto. After all, we all know that only men in oak caskets do not smile!