Finding My Laugh

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.” E. E. Cummings

I used to laugh. At lot. Uncontrollably. And usually at inopportune times. I didn't mean to. It just happened. And I couldn't stop. You know, those belly laughs when you lose all control of your muscles and fall over? Over things that aren't even funny. Yeah, that was me. The control freak who lost control at the drop of a hat.

Once in high school, Alex took me to one of the art museums in Bal Boa Park. We were in the section with abstract art which neither of us understood. It was just so bazaar that we decided to make up stories to explain each work. Some stories were boring and some were really silly or stupid. It was one of the boring explanations that got me giggling. And before I knew it, I had to hold onto the wall before I fell on the floor. Once I regained control of myself, we moved on and I was okay until something in his next story alluded to the one that had set me off, and there I went again. The guard in the museum glared at me, and I stifled my laughter. But he kept watching me, and Alex made a joke about him which set me off all over again. The guard finally approached us and told me if I couldn't control myself, we'd have to leave. Oh boy! That wasn't funny, but I could feel the laugh rising in my chest and out it burst like a snort! I so didn't mean to! I swear I wasn't laughing at the guard! I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. I just couldn't help it! But he made us leave anyway. Alex never let me live it down that I got kicked out of an art museum.

Another time, Jeremy and I were walking around Old Town and Persidio Park. This was the date when he kept bringing up the subject of kissing. I was thoroughly frustrated and kept changing the subject because I was not interested. But he persisted. We were sitting on a picnic table under a tree, and he pointed up where I saw he had conveniently picked a spot directly under some mistletoe! The little sneak! Didn't he get it? Why wouldn't he quit? So I scooted away 2 feet to make it known that I was not going to let him kiss me. Like something in a movie, a white blob dropped right where I had been sitting! I told him it was a sign; we were not meant to kiss. And I started cracking up. Oh, I know I shouldn't have. I was not trying to make fun of him. I just thought it was so ironic. I don't even know how he reacted to that since I was crying from laughing so hard, I couldn't see straight. Fortunately, I was already sitting down, or I'm sure I would have collapsed. Much later, he offered me his hand to help me up some steps, but before I could take it...I am not kidding...a bird pooped right in his palm! I just about died laughing. The poor guy must have felt totally humiliated and I was surely making it worse. It's a miracle Jeremy persisted and even made it to boyfriend status, only to find himself dumped when the kiss turned out to be bland and devoid of any kind of spark.

After I returned home from college, I ran into Nathan who had lived in my apartment complex in Utah and was staying in San Diego for the summer. He drove a stick shift, and I was looking to buy my first car and preferred a standard. But it had been several years since I'd driven one, so I asked him to reteach me. Nathan was a very quiet and serious kind of guy, but very kind and patient. Even so, the amount of times I stalled in heavy traffic probably would have frustrated him if it wasn't for the fact that I kept laughing. People would honk, and I would just laugh. Someone even flipped me the bird; I smiled and waved. That was fun!

Rex remembers meeting Nathan. He was easy-going and courteous and everything, but he was just...dull. Then I met Rex and he was like a constant stream of standup comedy. My laughter finally found a proper place. Well, most of the time. I remember in church after he'd been silly, I was trying to suppress my laughter during the prayer. I was doing a pretty good job keeping it silent, even if my shoulders were shaking with my inaudible snickering. Beside me, Rex let out a little snort and it set me off into loud giggles. I was so embarrassed. He later told me he hadn't really laughed, but made the noise just to spur it out of me. The punk! Sometimes, in the year or two that followed, I think he'd make me laugh just to see me fall over (or wet my pants when I was pregnant with my first).

Apparently, I inherited this curse of laughter from Mom. Like her, I would get in trouble at school for laughing without cause. And I know Sarah has the same affliction. But before you go thinking it's a blight and a nuisance, remember that even if it feels like you are weak and powerless, it actually makes you strong and vigorous. It's a well-spring of happiness.

Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced my laugh. As I've gotten older, I think I've grown out of it. Like Peter Pan's lost shadow, I am determined to find my laugh. It gives life character and lightness. Sometimes, life is so heavy, it just needs a little mirth to give it a boost.

“Laughter is the sound of the soul dancing. My soul probably looks like Fred Astaire.” ― Jarod Kintz