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