The Family That Pranks Together

Some families pass down heirlooms. Some pass down recipes. Mine passes down pranks.

My brother and I grew up in a household where mischief wasn’t just tolerated — it was practically a family value. And honestly, we’ve both embraced the legacy with enthusiasm that probably worries our neighbors.

Take the porch skeleton incident.

I had a perfectly normal skeleton on my porch — as one does — minding its own business, greeting visitors, scaring Amazon drivers, the usual. One morning I walked outside and it was gone. Vanished. No ransom note, no clues, just a missing bony friend.

A few hours later, I drove down the hill and there it was: sitting on the bridge, holding a fishing pole, looking like it had decided to retire early and spend its afterlife catching catfish.

My brother had stolen it in the night and staged the whole scene. He even positioned the skeleton’s head like it was contemplating life choices.

This is the same brother who loves zombies. So naturally, after gifting him a book titled Why Garden Gnomes Are More Dangerous Than Zombies, I bought several gnomes and placed them strategically around his yard. One peeking in his window. One lurking behind a bush. One standing on the porch like it was about to ask for a cup of sugar.

He didn’t scream, but he did call me. And the first thing he said was, “Please take the gnomes back” he did keep one. The one he kept is standing by one of the cannons my father made (yes working cannons that he taught me how to load)

We come by it honestly. Our father was exactly the same way.

This is the man who once set off fireworks outside his sister’s window — not on the Fourth of July, not during a celebration, but simply because he thought it would be funny. And it was. Eventually. After she stopped yelling.

Growing up with a prankster father meant we came by it naturally. I should mention that after my dad’s passing and he was cremated… he wanted to be scattered on the farm, so my thought was let’s shoot him from a cannon. It was a great excuse for a family party, and everyone loved it. I really think he would have loved it too. Every time we would attend a family party he would announce, always leave with a better coat than you came with. Really his entire branch of the family was the same…. Every year my cousin would throw a fourth of July party that always involved the cannon being shot off. Us children would run around looking for fun things to shoot from it, which even included a frog one year. This was the same cousin that borrowed the cannon for a grand opening of a bar and was shooting corn cobs from it across a major road (I’m sure alcohol was involved). I honestly am still amazed we survived childhood.

And now here we are, the next generation of chaos.

My brother steals skeletons and stages elaborate scenes. I deploy gnomes like tiny ceramic spies. And somewhere, I’m sure, our dad is laughing.

It’s strange, but these pranks — these silly, harmless acts of mischief — feel like a thread tying us together. A way of saying, “I’m thinking of you,” without actually saying it. A way of keeping joy alive, even in the middle of everything life throws at us.

In a world that can be heavy, sometimes the best inheritance is laughter. Even if it comes with skeletons and gnomes.