Not everyone finds me as amusing as I find myself, but that’s OK. Sometimes I laugh so hard at the stupid things I do that I really do bray like donkey.
Was talking to my daughter last night and we started talking about stupid things we’ve done, funny movies and just life in general. We ended up laughing so hard that we could barely breathe. At the end of the phone call she announced that her head ache was gone. Proof that laughter can be the best medicine. I have sore stomach muscles this morning as a result of this over the top seizure of laughter. A lot more fun that torturing myself with an ab cruncher at the gym.
Even painful things can be funny, usually not at the time of the incident, but later on. I remember a time at a family reunion when my grandmother allowed one of her great-nephews to get her on the back of a dirt bike and ride up a hill. She managed to hang on for a good bit, but right at the top she fell off the bike and did an extraordinarily spectacular log roll all the way down to the bottom of that hill and landed in a cloud of dust, at feet of her entire clan. We were shocked speechless and then burst out laughing until we doubled over, gasping for breath, and cried. We did manage get grandma up, brush her off, and made sure that she was OK, laughing the whole time. She was not amused. Unfortunately, this happened at a time before everyone filmed everything on their phone.
Sometimes crazy and/or painful incidents can be the foundation for major life changes. I think part of my decision to migrate from paper books to eBooks was the result of an incident involving a paperback book lying on the floor. I tend to scatter my possessions hither and yon.
One day I was walking across the den, coffee cup in hand and stepped on a paperback book. The book and my foot shot out from under me like they were greased with mink oil. I swooped into a split that could rival the antics of a true contortionist. Right then, lying on the carpet writhing in agony, convinced that I sprained every muscle and tendon in my groin, a love of eBooks was born. At least I can’t trip over them. My groin turned out to be undamaged, but not for lack of trying.
Many years ago my family was on an outing. My brother, who had been hit by a truck while riding a bicycle and was in a near full body cast, happened to be with us. I don’t remember how he was ambulatory, but he was. An elderly woman screeched to a full stop in front of us and began laughing so hard that she had lean over on her knees to keep from falling over. Finally she managed to say “Boy, you really did a number yourself, didn’t ya!”
Looking back on this, it seemed like an extremely rude reaction to another person’s suffering. But, my brother laughed and said something along the lines of “Yea, I really need to watch where I’m going.” He learned this lesson the hard way, and was not permanently injured. So in hindsight it was a good thing.
I don’t why we put ourselves though so many hard learned lessons in life. I’m not always that philosophical, either. Sometimes when life gives me lemons, I am just as likely to quirt lemon juice in someone’s eye as to make lemon aid. I guess that’s why we’re born with the capacity to laugh.
Reading a blog I follow started my day off with a good chuckle. That’s the best way to start a day, in my opinion. The post was I’ll Drive The Getaway, You Bring The Glue. It was a quickie with a good laugh at the end. What could be better on a roasting hot Texas morning?
But it got me thinking about death, dying and humor. Approaching the whole thing with humor is better that the alternatives, fear, trembling, screaming, hysteria, etc. I know I will cross that thresh hold someday. Better to laugh about it than fear it everyday until that fateful day. It’s a waste of brain function and adrenalin better used for other things.
Gallagher’s post reminded me of a joke I heard. Don’t remember where or who to attribute it to..so hear goes. “When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep….not screaming in terror like the passengers in my car!” I snort every time I think about this, and of course hope that if I go in my sleep that I’m in bed or on the sofa, not driving a carload of friends. I’m perfectly OK with going it alone. This is one journey that I don’t want to take anyone with me. Unless of course, they are the cause of my demise. Then they are welcome to join me.***evil grin***
But on a semi-serious note. It is a kindness to loved ones to express your final wishes. Especially when it comes down what to do with your remains. Don’t make grieving people decide. Never did get my grandmother to tell me what she wanted done, where she wanted to be buried or anything relevant to her impending death. As a result she’s in a container from the crematorium wrapped in a blue velvet bag on the top shelf of the amoire in my office. Mother gets a kick out of it. She says it looks just like the bag Crown Royal bourbon comes in. I agree with her and Grandmommie would be spinning in her grave, if she had one. But she doesn’t and it’s because she wouldn’t tell me what she wanted, dammit!
I am reasonably sure I want to be cremated with one condition. I must be dead first! Then I want to be in a pretty cloisonne urn with pink roses on it. The jar can reside on the mantel, shrine or other place of honor for a limited time or until someone gets tired of dusting it. Then send it to where ever it is that one sends funeral urns for the rest of eternity.