One of my students could not take my college seminar final exam because of a funeral. "No problem," I told him. "Make it up the following week."
That week came, and again he couldn't take the test due to another funeral.
"You'll have to take the test early next week," I insisted. "I can't keep postponing it."
"I'll take the test next week if no one dies," he told me.
By now I was suspicious. "How can you have so many people you know pass away in three weeks?" I asked.
"I don't know any of these people," he said. "I'm the only gravedigger in town."
A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Ohio town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.
Upon being denied, in the 1950's, membership in the exclusive Hollywood Country Club, because he was a Jew, Groucho Marx (whose father was a Jew, but whose mother was not) wrote a letter to the club's membership asking to be admitted.