On Humor – Intro (Well-timed humor’s power)

I had lunch with my father yesterday.

Have you ever been part of a conversation where one person suddenly strikes upon a deep and unpleasant truth – unpleasant because it’s the truth?

The room freezes, it seems, suspended in stillness as the false silence of truth permeates the air. False because while vocal chords cease productive movement, internal voices rage on, hustling to prepare for conflict and defense should it become necessary.

Sometimes it never does.

The last thing my father said was “I don’t give a shit.”

Then silence took over, and save for a few brief exchanges with the waiter, it maintained hold.

I kept waiting to defend my assertion, but the need never arose. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t care to either.

At moments like these, everything in the immediate vicinity seems fucking stupid. Irrelevant. Mere trivialities.

The distinct hues of Buffalo Wild Wings décor. The practiced courtesy of waiters and waitresses. Vacuous commentator talk on the flatscreens hanging from the restaurant walls (shoutout to the Australian Open).

All bullshit in relation to your world, in relation to the gripping of a nascent truth on your conscience.

Then my father, uncharacteristically, broke the silence. He, again uncharacteristically, told a funny story. (Will is my 6-year-old brother)

So the other day Will was really mad with me. I couldn’t figure out why. Then finally he said to me, “Daddy, I had a really bad day…I told my friend my secret – I told him I peed in my pants – and he told everyone. He is a bad person. He can’t be trusted.”

Six-year-old drama is hilarious. (Sorry, Will, for immortalizing yours)

After that story, I heard a bit more, something about how a girl has a big crush on Will, and how she always wants to sit next to him in class, and how she keeps asking him if he’s Jewish…

At all of this, I laughed in spite of myself. I stopped being righteous and just let go.

The thing about humor in these kinds of situations - it doesn’t change anything.

But it softens the harshness, and sometimes pain, of unpleasant truths. It creates brief moments of joy to fill the silences.

Call it a defense mechanism, a distraction, a weakness – call it whatever the hell you want.

Humor works. It helps you keep on keeping on.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided to start a series of posts on Humor, of which this is the introductory post. I guess I have a lot of room for expression in this one…

Check back in for more!

-David

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