The Pen may be mightier than The Sword…
But, comedy, in all its glorious forms, trumps them both… Written, spoken, physical, bawdy. All forms of it have the ability to slice through the thickest of situations.
Comedy can be a person’s salvation because levity has the ability to diffuse the most painful of memories and experiences. At least, that’s how I’ve utilized that tool to make the arduous trek through life an amusing one. At the very least, my approach has given me something to laugh about.
Case in point, when I was little, I was not immune to the occasional stinging insult. Admittedly, I was thin and tawny as most kids whose ancestors hail from the subcontinent of India are. And, to this day, I will be the first to marvel how long my arms are in relation to the rest of my carcass. Maybe it was my otherworldly quality Kelly Tueller was commenting on when she told my ten year old brother that I, at 8, looked exactly like ET, that lovable rogue of an extra terrestrial. I remember bursting into tears and wondering if my distended belly from a diet of chocolates and sweeties had confused her blonde brain. Oh, that I was a towheaded blonde like Jeremy and Jemima from Chitty Chatty Bang Bang nobody would comment on anything but how cute I was. Surprisingly, so many years later, I can remember this ET insult incident vividly and wonder if the memory is so sharp because I was encouraged not to forget and bury it, but to own and laugh about it.
And I do I laugh a lot about it. Raucously. And, to be honest, I see Kelly’s point sometimes when I’m brushing my teeth. Did that poor guy from another planet even have teeth? Suppose it’s better he didn’t, considering the amount of Reese’s chocolate he consumed. But, I digress…
If my family wasn’t both a joyfully dramatic one, I don’t think I would have that genetic trait to crack myself up. And I don’t think I would have gotten through the toughest of times. Case in point, when my father was shot as a warning from The Mafia in the goombah ridden Las Vegas of the 1980s, I am surprised at how quickly my brothers and I were able to bounce back from the horror. My mother made sure that we were not denied one single smile through our precious childhood as she knew that time was fleeting. She succeeded by making us believe that life would go back to normal since dear old Dad hadn’t died from or for his principles. His stance kept him alive after the bullet entered his stomach and exited his side, enough so to facilitate him practicing medicine in Sin City for an additional 40 years…And he was shot with a rifle!
Palisades High, affectionately nicknamed Pali, would not have been tenable if I hadn’t found something to smile about when my cohorts suffered the agony associated with teenaged, privileged addiction that left too many dead or maimed. During my era there, Pali became the first high school in the country to have an active chapter of Alcoholic Anonymous. And as scared and saddened by it as I was, I still worked diligently to laugh about whatever mundane conditions could make us smile. We won’t beat ourselves up about alcoholism, we will laugh at our foibles while reaching for sobriety!
I will be the first to recognize that my seemingly sunny disposition can be annoying as hell to those who rather live life in a morose and defeatist way. And, to that, I say live and let live, laugh and let laugh. Judgment is reserved for a higher being, the same one who constructed all of our flesh and bones, yet some He denied a funny bone! I get it!
We all have different coping mechanisms and mine has always been found between a wide smile.
I am reminded of a day in the recent past when a new but instantly dear friend, Patricia, came to visit. I was lamenting a pending divorce and whether or not I would ever find my own personal eternal surfer boy. (I’m from The Palisades, is there any other kind of fantasy guy?) Walking from Antioch to pick up necessary supplies for my elderly father, Patricia was encouraging, insisting that I need only to keep myself open to the possibilities of forever love and, if I did wholeheartedly, a romantic opportunity would present itself. I was mulling over this assertion while reaching for cleaning supplies. We were discussing the endless possibilities as we got into the long line one can expect at CVS on a Friday afternoon.
As I began the check out process with the affable Paul (I never do well with self check out, but that’s a story for another time) Patricia leaned in slyly and whispered,
“What did I tell you? Don’t look now, but there is a very cute guy in the line checking you out.”
I turned my attention casually, laughing loudly while offering, “I’m sure he’s just interested to see why I hadn’t picked up paper products and the array of ointments on the list. That, my friend, is my brother!”
Paul must have thought us mad for how we laughed uproariously. And even now on a day that started out well, but who knows how the tide can turn at the beach, that memory unpacked still brings a lightness to my life.
Levity is life for me. I highly recommend….At least try it. You won’t know if it’s delicious until you do.