who’s laughing?
I know, you’re thinking that this one is really off the mark. Laughter? Affliction? How can you use these in the same sentence? Well welcome to my world.
It’s my mothers’ fault and her mother before her. We both have (or had) that insatiable urge to laugh at inappropriate times. I’m not talking about a nervous giggle at an awkward moment. I am talking about full on hysterical, out of control belly laughing. 
the original offender
My granny once told me a story about how she laughed when her father fell off of a house. Now she loved her father but as a little girl watching as he careened off of the roof, arms flapping like a giant bird..it was just too much. Fortunately he wasn’t really seriously injured and her mother ran her into the backyard so her father would not witness the laughter. There was no malice in my sweet granny’s soul just that inexplicable affliction of laughter.
my mother was another
I came by it honest. My mom had the same sense of the ridiculous. It happens sometimes when people get hurt (not really in the true sense-that would be sadistic) but my Rennie swears that I laugh whenever he hurts himself. And truly when you have this affliction of laughter it can be contagious.
the defensible crime
In my defense you have to understand something. Rennie, when injured in the slightest way can be somewhat of a drama king. But truly, I do sometimes think he should have been a slapstick artist. He will stub a toe, hit his head just minor things but the faces that he makes during the injury are just comedic. He has a tendency to hit his head on ceiling fans (while they are rotating) or walk into screen doors leaving a nose print…It’s just funny.
Have you ever seen Jerry Lewis in the Geisha Boy? People! Yes it is an old movie but it is a must see. https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/geisha_boy
Anyway, that’s my Rennie. He contorts his face into this grimace that looks like his face is melting. All of this from this grown man that looks like a gentle giant. It is just too much. So of course I laugh.
causation or reaction?
The catalyst for this affliction can stem from different things. I once got caught delivering a punch line to a slightly bawdy (visual) joke in a hospital waiting room. That was a little embarrassing as it was my mom and dad’s preacher that walked in at the awkward moment.
But it served its purpose. It made my mom laugh in a pretty dark and grim time. Maybe that is some of it. I always have felt the need to take care of people around me. “Make it better”. What better way than acting the fool and making someone laugh when they can’t find the happy themselves.
laughing at oneself
There have been multiple instances throughout my adult years that the affliction of laughter took over common sense and decorum. Rest assured that the joke isn’t always on someone else. I have suffered as the butt of the laughter a time or two (yep, you guessed it-from my mom, the other one).
A particular instance comes to mind.
I was attending a seminar out of town and my mom and I took the opportunity to meet up for the weekend. The plan was to go out to the bar downstairs for a drink or two and then dinner.
Have I mentioned that my mom was also my best friend? Well as best friends do we were complaining about our physical shortcomings (I definitely blame her for that one as I am built just like her). Anyway, we were looking in the mirror comparing and got tickled over something silly. (Remember the hysterical belly laugh part?) Well I get so tickled that I just lurch forward bending at the waist. What I didn’t count on was the counter and a rather solid lotion bottle.
BAM! I crash my face into into it. Now I saw stars but my loving mother is in hysterics. Laughing! I might mention that I did not have the comical grimaces that Rennie displays but apparently given the nature of the injury, I inspired laughter. I split the side of my nose open and gave up on any idea of looking hot that evening. AND had to explain what happened the next day at the seminar. Sigh…and yes, although it took an hour or so I did find the humor and joined in the laughter. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself then you are in for a rough life.
the ultimate sin
I love to laugh and really don’t have a solid idea or excuse for why I laugh at such inappropriate moments. Thankfully I do recognize that this can be a problem and try to head it off if I feel the need arising. Unfortunately, one such incident came upon me so suddenly that there was no reeling it in.
My mother-in-laws funeral. Now before your mind goes to tacky jokes or shocking behavior let me start by saying that I loved my mother-in-law and her death was a traumatic unexpected ‘event’ for all. So we arrive at the day of the funeral after a lot of drama that we won’t get into and isn’t relevant for this story.
Rennie and his family are from the south. Their roots run deep and are fully ensconced in the southern baptist world.
Set scene: We have all been seated and the service begins. The pastor starts the eulogy and as he emotes there is a sudden shout of AMEN!
After I peeled myself off of the ceiling from the sudden outburst I settled just to be bombarded with more of the blessings that held such fervor I felt like we were going to witness the second coming. I really don’t want to be irreverent but this was a new experience for me. I began to wonder if they were going to break out in tongues.
As the service continued they introduced the family minister. Still reeling from the verbal participation my mind looks as they assist him to the pulpit. My first thought is that he looks worse than Rennie’s mother in the casket! I chastise myself silently and prepare myself for his words.
whose funeral is it anyway?
As he begins he starts talking about the various ailments that he is experiencing. It ranged from vertigo to sore feet. He rambles on (and on) about how he is afflicted with these problems as I am trying to wrap my head around what this has to do about Rennie’s mom. We all listen politely (at least there are no more verbal tics being shouted across the church). By this time I have at least lost the terrible sadness that had enveloped all of us. But what is happening is that dreaded affliction is rearing its ugly head. But I am an adult. I hold it together. Until he starts talking about his boils.
game over!
I lost it! He starts out asking if anyone has ever had boils. And then proceeds to go into detail about how painful this is. Enter hysteria. I hide my face into the arm sleeve of Rennie’s suit. Shaking with the effort to stifle the uncontrollable laughter that has taken over any real sanity I had left. Rennie looks down at me sees the tears running down my face but then, he knows! It is that devil..the affliction of laughter that has me in its grip.
the finish
We make it through the ceremony get home and I explain (and am forgiven). We settle down, talk about the day and the phone rings. It is a friend that attended the funeral. Her husband has insisted that she call. She, her husband and two other friends had sat in the back of the church during the ceremony. She was calling to apologize. Apparently the husband was totally mortified when during the service he had to pick them up off of the floor as they were overcome with uncontrollable laughter. You guessed it! The boils pushed them over the edge.
I guess I am not the only one out there that suffers from the affliction of laughter.
As my granny always said. Might as well laugh as to cry. Not a bad sentiment. As I leave you forever and always
Sassaleeyours…