Memorial Day has always meant more to me than just the unofficial start of summer.

Of course, I enjoy the bar-b-ques, the baseball games and the extra day off. But I also take time to remember those who sacrificed their lives for this country. I take the time to reflect on what the day really means.

This Memorial Day felt a little different than those I remember from years past. Instead of the respect and appreciation that I normally feel for those who died. I felt a sense of deep sadness.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that a picture I innocently posted on Facebook started an argument. But all I did was post a picture on my page that showed the price of gas.

Now I suppose Freud, or some other psychiatrist, would say that I posted that picture subconsciously to start an argument, but I swear I just posted it out of frustration without saying a word.

If you’ve been to a comedy club more than once, there’s a good chance that at some point the comedian and the crowd have had to deal with a heckler.

Now, sometimes the heckler can be used for comedic fodder. They say something, the comic strikes back, the crowd laughs, and hopefully that’s the end of it.

But sometimes the heckler just keeps it up, and it loses its appeal. The crowd starts to turn on the heckler, and in extreme cases, the disruptor is removed from the club.

Sometimes the comic can get the crowd back, and sometimes they can’t.

During the late 80’s and early 90’s, I spent five years of my life traveling the country as a stand-up comedian. I had some great gigs where I opened for people like Jerry Seinfeld, Sam Kinnison, Lewis Black and the band Chicago.

I also played some hell holes in small towns where there weren’t more than 8 people in the audience.

I learned a lot during that time. I learned that America is a vast, diverse place. I learned that comedy is very subjective and that jokes that worked in Seattle, Washington, might not get the same response in Mobile, Alabama and vice versa.