Gotta Laugh

Somebody probably just farted.
Wasn't me.

One of the therapists who has helped our family used to exhort us to, "Find the funny!" It was his way of saying how important it is to be able to laugh in life.

This is especially true if you have any Eeyore tendencies. Or Rabbit, Kanga, or Piglet tendencies for that matter. (Poohs, Tiggers and Owls seem to be okay as they are. Especially Tiggers.)

But I knew long before that that humour was very important to me. It has long been one of the most attractive traits in anyone I work with or, oh, marry.

My dad started it all.

His favourite weapon in the battle of laughter was fun with words. This included mispronunciations of common words. I've already told you about co-inky-dink, but there was also kuh-niff-ee for knife, and mercy buckets for merci beaucoup. Okay, so he wasn't exactly David Letterman, but he kept us laughing and that's what mattered.

He also introduced the more challenging game of Puns-Around-the-Table where dad and my four brothers would see who could top the previous person's pun the fastest. I chimed in when I could, but my brother Andy almost invariably won those battles.

It left a lasting legacy: love and laughter go together like diarrhea and toilet paper. You could undoubtedly have one without the other, but ... they're SO much better together.

I can't imagine going on a vacation with someone who couldn't laugh at a calamity. Vacations are fraught with potential for disaster!

Or having children with someone who didn't see the lighter side of bleeding nipples, diarrhea down your shirt (from the infant perched on your shoulders), projectile vomit (from toddlers or pregnant wife), and even 2:00 a.m. calls from the police. [Took a while before we laughed at that last one.]

And I have to say, at my age? Sharing a bed with someone who couldn't laugh - or make me laugh - or join me in laughter - while, um, fluffing the pillows ... THAT would be sad at the least and humiliating at the worst.

*shudder*

[I realize this is late for Father's Day. My dad, who died of a heart attack in 1990, has been on my mind all week, but I didn't think I had anything particular to say about him. I was wrong.]

[Plus, I didn't even start this post consciously thinking about my father. I was thinking about laughter and how I have worked with some people who don't seem capable of genuine laughter, and I find them very difficult to get along with.]