Tears and Laughter

Watching your children convulse themselves with laughter is one of a parent’s cherished moments. The fact that they were laughing at my self help book library added a bit of edge to the humor but I delighted in their wit.

With lightening speed, they fired off fake self help book titles, first my son, then my daughter, then back
again. The favorites that were remembered: "Scary Loving; Lasting Love" and "Loving Your Own Self-
Discipline". Actually, until I verified the title with them, I thought it was "Loving Your Unselfdiscipline" which I thought was best seller in the making.

I would like to defend myself. Unlike many who needed a parent manual for raising children, I needed a manual for knowing and being myself. Although my daughter calls my generation of women ‘Whiny man
haters’ and declares she wants to neither ‘burn my bra or give away my ovaries’ ( they made her take
feminist literature this semester), the truth is we middle aged women were just given two different sets
of directions when we were young. At birth, they told us to stand by our man . When we were well on
our way to doing that, they told us to be all we could be. Well, good grief, who wouldn’t need a manual
for that lane change?

And after my ex husband’s response to my question “Will you ever be able to perceive some of my needs without me having to tell you everything?” was “Huh?!” followed by the smoking of a very
long cigar while taking a two hour walk (him, not me), it was anybody’s guess how to sort it out. Why not read some books? I like it that I can laugh about stuff I cried about before. Like the time I walked into the kitchen and my daughter, then two, was sitting underneath the table happily dipping into a bucket of Country
Crock buttering the legs of said table as carefully as Picasso ever painted any canvas.

I have this tape of Candid Camera episodes I keep for certain occasions. My favorite piece of research is the one that found that people who were severally depressed weren’t suffering cognitive distortions; they were seeing life more realistically than anyone else. So, when I’m seeing life really, really realistically, I
remember the episode where the Candid Camera plant gets into an elevator and turns to face the rear wall and everyone coming in after follows him. So you end up with this elevator full of people facing the rear. Do you know, right now while I’m typing this I’m laughing out loud with a big grin just thinking of it.

 It’s followed by the stunt where another CC plant asks a stranger with help driving a car forward a few feet. Only they don’t know the car is sawed in half, so when they drive it forward the back falls off. Again with the LOL! I’m going to have to pull those out tonight.

One of my favorite photos taken on a trip to Vancouver one time is a sign that says: “Boy Scout Manure
Sale”. Maybe in addition to the Christmas tree sale? They could have a contest....... Nah.....better not
go there.

Want to know my simple anti war plan? We have to laugh more,together. Big belly laughs. Laurel
and Hardy trying move a piano. Brett Butler (remember her?) doing a whole routine about her sister
who insisted on speaking French dealing with her child who picked up a doll displayed in a mall as the baby Jesus and the head falls off . It rolls under a bunch of dressing rooms .Her sister starts running after her yelling in French with a southern drawl chasing the head of Baby Jesus crawling under the curtains.

Personally, I miss Erma Bombeck more than I can say. Laugh till we cry. That’s what we need to do. More international puns.

Oh, let me tell about the time our dorm in college was asked to be the dance partners for a French
Embassy party =again with the French= for this ship that had just spent seven months at sea. Free party at Charles in San Francisco. So all dolled up in my size ten Rudi Gernrich (remember him?) orange, purple and red chiffon number , I say ‘yes I’d loved to dance’ to a gallant officer and when we get to the middle of the floor, I realize that my ever so cute ,small patent leather handbag is wrapped around my ankle. And the officer is trying to pretend he doesn’t notice, and I just keep kicking it out of the way and drag it all the way back to my seat afterwards.

Yeah...good times

If you haven’t laughed till the tears roll down your cheeks and your sides ache, then you’re too intense.   Toxins building. Red warning light on…Go find something funny. Better if it's just plain silly. Smile. Right now, smile. See?????
Your heart wants to follow.
Love,
Deborah

Know Courage

The young black men sit on stools while people pour ketchup, milk, and sugar on their heads deriding them for their color. It is1961 and they are being trained by fellow African Americans to be“strong enough to be non-violent” when they will forcibly integrate a Woolworth’s soda fountain counter. Hundreds died in the effort to register voters in the South. The right to have our vote count has never been more important.

Then John was shot. We were losing our cultural definition of apartheid. The real and pretend worlds we lived in were collapsing.Kitty Genovese changed our lives forever. Maybe you remember her. In 1964 she was killed at three in the morning, screaming for help,in her apartment entrance while thirty eight people looked out of their windows and did nothing. We began to have to face ourselves. Meanwhile, people of courage were beginning to be the mainstage event instead of living in the shadows of worlds we refused to acknowledge.

It’s 1966. The Cultural Revolution in China has started. Nien Chang, the wife of a former Shell Oil executive, has been taken prisoner by association. It will be 61/2 torturous years before she is released. She will be told her daughter committed suicide, only to find out she was beaten to death when she would not say her mother

was a spy. At her lowest moments, she would find the creativity to craft a needle out of a splinter and

embroider with threads taken from her hem. They could not imprison her spirit.

It’s the seventies and Karen Silkwood dies in a car crash. She has been gathering information to take

to the Union about plant safety regarding plutonium exposure. Because of her activity, death and the resulting autopsy, new standards were set for plant safety. We begin to face the reality of chemistry and the world.

Mainstream concern starts to form. Can recycling trucks and water purifiers be far behind?

The eighties arrive and with them a host of childhood victims of sexual abuse. The definitive book was called The Courage to Heal. It’s still the unmentionable. It’s still a plague. But the therapists don’t call women hysterical anymore. Apparently Mr. Freud, they weren’t just making it up. Next stop, domestic violence.

The nineties bring a new awareness of clergy and political leaders initiating horrendous offenses of sexual misconduct. Wasn’t that just a right that came with the territory? Didn’t she make ya do it? The survivors learn that, as one woman who blew the whistle on a particular senator said, ‘First they’ll say you’re crazy and then you’ll think you are.’ 

Most of the world gets up in the morning needing a double dose ofcourage. Atticus says to Scout and Jem, in To Kill a Mockingbird , “ I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.” Some people are fighting to live beyond the limitations of their bodies. Others are defying the odds set against them by oppressive regimes. Corporate executives struggle to live with integrity. People with mental illness claw their way to reality. Moms and Dads live in the eddies of intimacy and responsibilities that no one ever told them they would have. Educators cover the gap for others who have dropped the ball. Blue collar workers do the jobs no one wants to do for a pay that doesn’t equal their efforts.

I’m involved you say, and we are. Go a step further. Tell the story of your own courage to someone who needs to hear it. Go ahead. Break the facade. We’re all wounded ducks learning to swim with one wing. It’s the best part of you that can be offered. Share when you were strong in spite of yourself and the odds. We do a lot of good for others and well we should. But that story of yours.......wow.........that’s Gold. The dream is kept alive when people connect about their moments of courage. Story by story the human spirit is kept alive. 

You don’t have a story, you say? Go stand beside someone who’s oppressed, or speak a truth no one wants to hear, or face something you’ve never faced before. Somebody gave their life for you to have the dimension to your life that makes the world a better place. We’re told a lie when we’re told to keep our tragedies to ourselves. It’s a lie because the world needs to hear as many stories of courage as can be offered. If we don’t, we conscript courage to those who would go on Jerry Springer or Dr. Phil. 

Courage is not a commercial venture. 

Dignify courage and honor the gift those who died have given you by sharing your courageous moment with

someone. Soon.

Love,

Deborah