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How do you get a Polack into a bathtub? Simple, throw in a nickel.
These and about another hundred jokes survive from my childhood growing up in the Chicago area. Later, I would run into many of the same in Iowa, only recycled as “Bohemie” jokes.
In my youth, long before the age of political correctness, I told the jokes in ignorant innocence of the terrible discrimination the Poles faced from the German and Russian empires. There was nothing funny, for example, about the ethnic slurs guised in the form of humor Nazi Germany perpetuated to make ethnic cleansing more palatable.

Carol and I “broke up” soon after our first kiss, but I can’t really remember why or how.
I do remember that the split occurred on a Sunday morning before church, and during service she suddenly burst out sobbing. I didn’t have a clue about what to do, but then that’s fairly typical for me.
The angst sent me into another bout of celibacy, not that I was beating girls off with a stick. The truth is that I was very shy around girls.