I find humor in the oddest places. In fact, I think humor finds me.
Like nervousness, humor sneaks up on me. It replaces my nervousness. I can list all the times where I have giggled uncontrollably in places where I should, instead, have been somber.
Jim’s parents’ Thanksgiving dinners. I’ve now gone to how many years of them? Almost twenty. I have giggled during Grace at every one except for one. The one I didn’t giggle at, I actually wanted to giggle. But I had a good reason not to.
I had had a miscarriage on about November 10. It was close enough to Thanksgiving that I told myself, Think of the miscarriage, think of the miscarriage. And it worked. That one Thanksgiving I did not dissolve into uncontrollable laughter while Jim’s father said Grace.
Nothing very funny about that.
There’s no way to get across how immature I can be. I have laughed so hard that I had to pretend I was crying at three different funerals. Well, one was technically a rosary mass. And I don’t know why.
Is laughter really the flip side of sorrow? Was I grieving something that I didn’t even realize I was grieving? I laughed so hard during John Dunne’s funeral that the whole pew rocked. Jim laughed, too, and Andrew, and the three of us tried to pretend we were sobbing. I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like grief.
John Dunne was a nice man. He died when his bicycle got hit by a car. We noticed the bike on the six-o’clock news. John was the only guy we knew who had a red ten-speed with a white seat. We called the news station and asked if they could tell us who the person was that got killed. No, we haven’t notified next of kin, the man on the phone told me. If I say a name, will you tell me whether it’s him or not, I asked. He agreed. I said John’s name. Yes, I’m sorry, he told me and we hung up.
I laughed in the zendo when L farted. After that I dreaded sitting in the zendo for fear of someone farting. I avoid yoga retreats for that reason. Surely people fart all the time when they’re bending their stomachs the way you do in yoga.
I dread having to go to either Mom’s or Dad’s funeral when they die, not only because I dread either dying. I don’t actually dread them dying. Mom and Dad are both peaceful about life and death. I just dread the funeral.
I will have to take something, an anti-anxiety pill, to make sure I don’t laugh all the way through it like I did when Aunt Barbara died. I sweated so hard trying not to laugh that I could feel the drops of sweat rolling down the sides of my body. I laughed because the priest was dramatic. When it came to the Communion, he boomed up there at the altar, THIS IS THE BODY OF CHRIST!
I find humor in America’s Funniest Videos. I laugh when the big woman boing-boing-boings on the trampoline and boings right off into the hedge. God, I can even feel a physical reaction to the pain she must feel, something that hits deep in my stomach, and still I laugh. I laugh until my girls yell at me, Mo-om!, that’s not funny!!
I laugh until Jim laughs at my laughing. I laugh in bed afterwards, thinking about my laughing, and sometimes I am laughing so hard I can’t even get out the words to say what it is I’m laughing about.
I find humor in the stupidest jokes. I have three from my “brown series,” one of which is, What is brown and floats in the toilet of the SS Enterprise? The Captain’s log.
I sometimes laugh so hard at that joke that I can’t even tell it. Funny, it doesn’t strike me as the least bit funny right now, and I feel as though I’m failing as a writer to convey how funny it is when I tell it.
Humor finds me, I tell you. It’s like a gremlin, creeping up on me when it should be sleeping. When more appropriate emotions, like sadness or empathy or disgust should instead be by my side. Inside of me.
Humor resides somewhere deep in my nerve system, and I no longer know if I should even call it “humor” at all.
-Related to post WRITING TOPIC – A LAUGHING MATTER
I loved this one yb. I love you for telling it! Laughter is so important to keep ones head on straight. People are way too serious…they need to laugh more…
When my Dad died, my 2 sister’s and I were all sitting on the edge of his bed. I remember each of us turned, with tears in our eyes, to look at our Mom. She was in one of her blue plastic chairs…sitting there flossing her teeth, proud as you please.
She has Alzheimers now, but has always had a “thing” for dental floss. We just looked at each other and said “well….”. It was a silly moment and a good laugh among alot of tears…and no doubt he would have loved it and laughed too.
We recently took our Mother to the funeral of her sister-in laws. It was already tough enough to keep a straight face because she died the oldest bowler in the county….her entire bowling team was there (the Groovey Grama’s) and her bowling ball was center stage. The preacher was also a “dramatic” one and this was an echo chamber church. We never know what’s going to come out of our Mother’s mouth, but she said “Oh B— S—! right in the middle of his eulogy…that broke the dam for my sister and I. I finally had to shove kleenex inside my mouth.
Now you’ve got me wondering just how many people at those funerals are really laughing, not crying… I’m going to start watching better..
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This was wonderful. This post made me think that you’d be a great person to know. The whole laughing at inappropriate moments thing reminded me of going to church with my mother. On Christmas eve, we’d have a candlelight service… everyone in the congregation had a small white candle, that we’d like somewhere near the end of the service. Until then, my siblings and I would hold our candles and they would get warm and pliable. We would make silly shapes with them. Then when we lit them and held them up toward the cross, everyone would see how silly we’d been. One time, my poor mother, a devout church goer, started giggling when she saw all the shapes of our candles, and she couldn’t stop, even started crying from trying to stifle the giggles. It’s a memory I hold onto now that she is gone.
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Those are both wonderful stories, and they make me feel less goofy. Sometimes it feels like an illness, especially when that feeling comes over me as I walk into the church. Something about the smell of the church, the music, the singers who always seem to be off-key, the people in the pews who when they give the responsorial psalm always do so in such erratic ways.
Speaking of, did you hear about the skunk who went to church? He sat in his own pew.
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What a fun post. I really enjoyed the situations where humor helped you through a tough time. I love to make people smile and laugh and I hope that at my funeral there is more laughter heard than tears. I think have considered writing my on eulogy to help take the sting out of my death and to put things into better perspective. I know it would be full of corny jokes and funny family stories.
Hum, maybe it will be my Opus Magnum and I will have my children read it in a stentorian way (word of the day).
I leave you with this – Did you hear about the elephant with diarrhea?
-It was all over town.
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getting the cosmic joke ought to be the first step in all religions.
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I knew it! We must have been separated at birth.
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Funereal humor reminds me of my favorite epitaph:
“I told you I was sick.”
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ybonesy, even though I’m not one much for jokes, the Captain’s log IS pretty funny!
Funeral humor had never occurred to me. It makes sense that laughter is a way people express grief. I’d never thought of it before. I’m more likely to be the one that never stops crying.
I do love America’s Funniest Videos, I laugh out loud at those every time I watch them. And I’m thinking it’s what R3 pointed out in his Comment 10 (LINK) on my humor practice post right before this one – my humor is around dancing, singing, and things that are physical. Words don’t often do it for me (with the exception of David Sedaris books that crack me up). It’s a good thing to know about myself!
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R3–my kind of humor exactly. Go to the Writing Topic post that prompted the humor writing practice, and you’ll see the elephant-with-diarrhea joke there.
Being as how you like poop jokes, here’s another from my “Brown series”:
What is brown and sits on a piano bench?
Beethoven’s last movement.
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bloomgal – let’s not go to any funerals together, eh? And we’d probably better stay away from weddings (I have two of those where I almost lost it), or just plain ol’ mass.
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My wife and I were watching figure skating with her parents once. One of the skaters did a jump too close to the wall and plowed through a door. Her skate actually sliced through the wood like a buzzsaw. Two boots were dangling over the ice until she scrambled back up and completed the program.
My wife and I were rolling. My father-in-law thought we were horrible/nuts.
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I just posted on this topic. I sound like Eyore compare to you.
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Oh, and giggling doesn’t replace nervousness. It IS nervousnesses, so if you are ever going to a funeral where you must not giggle, get a mild sedative from your doctor. I guarantee if you don’t get anxious, you also won’t giggle, you silly girl.
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Eyore is a wise donkey. I love his voice.
Yes, I have a prescription of Larazapan (sp?) that I keep just for my puke phobia (oops, I let the cat out of the bag) and am thinking I could also use for my inappropriate giggling.
I don’t use it often, and in fact I didn’t use it last year when two of my aunts died and one uncle.
For Aunt Barbara, first I started giggling right at the beginning of mass when one of the singers who was singing in Spanish started to hit some major off-key notes. Then the priest turned out to be an actor — I mean, he was getting into his lines! I smelled like a sour washrag by the end of the mass. It was horrible.
So for Aunt Sophie I sat in the back of the cathedral. With Jim. And although I almost lost it once or twice, I cried so much that I drowned out my nervousness.
For Uncle Isaac, I somehow had myself in check. I think by then, we’d lost so many of my mom’s side of her family that it absolutely hit me, they’re almost gone. It was shocking.
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I have an agreement with a friend of mine that if I do first, he will perform Puff Daddy’s “I’ll Be Missing You” at my funeral. This friend is white, nerdy, and flaming gay. I anticipate lots of laughs.
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Make sure he wears black mink for good contrast ; – ).
I have to tell you, since going to three Catholic funerals last year, I’ve been wondering if I’d want a Caholic funeral when I die. I mean, there is something beautiful about all the ritual. Plus, for people like me, there’s all that laughing. Hmmm, I better give this some thought.
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Oh ybonesy! I have to send Captain Corky of Corky’s Log over here to read that joke. He will just D-I-E!
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Strangely, I thought of Captain Corky after I did this post. ; – )
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LOL 8)
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I could relate to your funeral fits of laughter. It made me think about the fine line between laughter and tears. Maybe they’re wired to the same place in the brain or the heart.
I lwas in my brother’s wedding, a bridesmaid in a gaudy purple dress, when I looked at my sister in the congregation. Our eyes met, and the laughter began. Just like you, I could feel the sweat from the tension of trying not to laugh.
And then something switched, and I saw my brother standing on the altar in his tux, and I started to cry! No tissues, just mascara running down my face. What a day.
Thanks for writing this piece. It got me thinking about all those crazy moments, when we’re not supposed to laugh. Those really are the worst!
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ybonesy, Liz and I watched America’s Funniest Videos tonight and we were rolling on the floor. There were all kinds of Halloween boinkers and bonkers. But our favorite was the Motorcycle Mama’s, a couple of women in their 70’s (I’m guessing) who were videotaped on a virtual motorcycle ride. They really played it up and it was hysterical. Gosh, it felt good to laugh!
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