In the South, family stories are passed down from generation to generation.

No one told Southern stories better than the late Jeanne Robertson.

She was Miss North Carolina in the 1963 Miss America pageant, where she was named Miss Congeniality. With her constant smile, it’s easy to see why. Robertson retains the title of the tallest contestant as she was 6’2” tall.

Many of her shows are now on YouTube, and Robertson is warm and friendly as she weaves her stories of how Southerners handle life.

Some of Robertson’s videos have millions of views because she is so relatable. Her most viewed video is “Don’t Send a Man to The Grocery Store,” and it’s worth every minute of listening time. You’ll particularly enjoy the segment if you’re a right-brained person married to a left-brained person.

Southerners have a particular way of telling stories that put them in their own special category, and Robertson was an outstanding humorist. Perhaps it’s her beautiful Southern drawl, but it’s also in the way she sets up a story and then closes with an unexpected zinger.

One of my favorites is “Don’t Mess with Teenage Hussies” – the punchline at the end is priceless.

Her talk about her Grandma Freddie’s trip to the Holy Land rang true for me. Her grandmother was a public speaker who gave speeches to church groups about a trip to the Holy Land.

After her grandmother passed – bow your heads here, Robertson would say – Robertson found out her grandmother had never been to the Holy Land.

She’d bought a box of slides with scenes from the Holy Land and told stories to groups like she’d been there. The punchline at the end is totally unexpected yet makes sense if you’re from the South.

My grandmother also told stories with flair and drama. I would beg her to tell them over and over. She obliged, and every time, the story became a little grander.

My favorite was about a relative who was reaching out on her death bed for her long lost love. The story was dramatic, filled with lost love and longing.

My mom called foul.

“I was in the room when she died,” mom said. “No reaching, no gasping.”

I much prefer my grandmother’s telling and, as far as I’m concerned, my grandmother’s story is the one I believe to be true.

Robertson’s mother told her early in life to choose a humorous lens through which to look at life. I’ve found if you choose that path, mistakes in life are a lot easier to accept.

When I visited my son in Taiwan years ago, we went to a spa separated into sections for men and women. The last thing my son said to me before he went to the men’s side was “By the way, it’s a nude spa.”

It took me about 20 minutes to get up the courage to get in the inside heated pool. After a bit, I was okay with being au natural.

There was also an outside pool and, frugal person that I am, I wanted to get my money’s worth. So I went outside, in my birthday suit, and saw women sitting around the pool.

In their bathing suits. All staring at this naked American.

I could’ve turned around and run back inside, but with my chins held high, I walked straight and proud to the end of the pool area, looked around, nodded, and then walked back into the dressing area. I tell that story at family reunions, not with embarrassment, but with laughter at myself.

I choose humor, just like the late Jeanne Robertson did, to remember life. Do yourself a favor, find her clips on YouTube, and enjoy some down-home funny stories told by a master humorist.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.