We were traveling one summer in the Pocono Mountains and, like a good Presbyterian family, attended church while we were on vacation.
One lazy Sunday we found our way to a little Methodist church. It was a hot day, and the folks were nearly drowsing in the pews. The preacher was preaching on and on, until all of a sudden he said, "The best years of my life have been spent in
the arms of another man's wife." The congregation let out a gasp and came to immediate attention. The dozing deacon in the back row dropped his hymnbook.
Then the preacher added, "It was my mother."
The congregation tittered a little and managed to follow along as the sermon concluded. I filed away this trick in my memory, since it was such a great way to regain the congregation's attention. The next summer, on a lazy Sunday, I was preaching and the flies were buzzing around and the ushers were sinking lower and lower in their seats in the back row until I could hardly see them.
Then I remembered our experience in the Pocono Mountains, and I said in a booming voice, "The best years of my life have been spent in the arms of another man' s wife."
Sure enough, I had their attention. One of the ushers in the back row sat up so fast he hit his head on the back of the pew in front of him. I had them.
But you know something, I forgot what came next . All I could think to say was, "And for the life of me , I can' t remember her name! "