Her little voice across the phone last night:
“I saw your picture in the paper. Nice!”
(My writers’ group, one afternoon of white
snow, candy canes, hot chocolate, gave a slice
of literature with readings, workshops, sales
of our own books before the Christmas rush.)
And then my granddaughter asked, voice in trails
of hope, “Can I come over?” In a hush
of happiness how I agreed. “I’ll bring
my books and I could have my lesson.” Yes!
She plays piano. I, the richest king,
anticipated her arrival, press
of long brown hair against my chest. And soon
I saw her lime-green coat. She ran to me,
“Hi, Memah.” O, that sweetened perk. The moon
last night shone brighter than the stars. To be
with her is treasure. How this charmer brings
me joy with laughs and smiles tucked in so tight
that every polished moment like this clings
with stubborn happiness and makes dark light.
When can we be children again and giggle and laugh at silly things?
When can we be children again and play hide and seek in the dark?
When can we be children again and play on the slide and the tyre swings?
When can we be children again and skip a huge rope in the park?
When can we be children again and hop in and out of a puddle?
When can we be children again to run and laugh when we play?
When can we be children again and just want a friend to cuddle?
When can we be children again and race all our friends in a relay?
So when can we do these things without being stared at or pointed to?
Whenever we want is my answer, there’s no need to analyse or think it through
To bring out that fun and enthusiasm like a child that is hidden in our heart
We can be the child if we choose once again and that’s the amazing part
If you hear good music that fills you with joy then do a little dance – doesn’t matter where you are.
Laugh out loud if you want to. Swing and slide down that slide without a care. Skip rope and jump in puddles. Giggle and play hide and seek. Do what brings you joy and not what you think you have to do, for there’s no fun in that.
And if people stare and point and think you’re a little crazy, well maybe it’s just because the child that is hidden in them can’t return.
little girl with your dotted bonnet
won’t you
tell me the secret
you hide in your smile…
the thoughts that
surround your silent laughter…
and the dreams that
fuel your desire for life -
to devour every second…
to live…to love…to be free…
tell me…won’t you?…
no, won’t you show me instead?…
let me share your secrets…
let me drown in your thoughts…
let me embrace your dreams – as my own…
and maybe then
i might be able to weave
dreams of my own…and
see life like you do…like i used to -
with hope…and color…and sunshine -
like a child…
Listen, and hear the laughter of the crows
Their song a raucous chorus in the trees
Drunk on honeydew left behind by bees
Listen, and hear the laughter of the crows
at hapless souls living beneath the trees
Alas! I think it might be you or me’s
Listen, and hear the laughter of the crows
Their song a raucous chorus in the trees
Maggie … How did I do? This is the most counting I’ve done in WEEKS. – M.
Update: I was confused about why the pope picture kept coming up on my search…I figured WordPress was goofing with me, or misunderstood what my post was all about. HOURS LATER, I finally get the Pope picture..I used the words child molester in the title..Sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose..lol. I don’t think all priests are child molesters…..OMG!!
Unimpressed with my witty diversions in our conversation, she point-blank told me that I
Pope Benedict XVI (Photo credit: Wikipedia) -- Evidently, WordPress thinks this pope uses humor to divert..Every time I ran search terms related to my article on humor, comedians, suicide -- this guy's picture showed up in the first frame. LOL...
hide behind my humor. I made some quick-witted retort, and promptly left her office, but I knew she was right. In the past, the more unhappy I am, the more hilarious people around me have thought I was.
What is this phenomenon that causes the broken-hearted men and women of this world try to make others laugh? You got me. I have no idea why. I only know that it is true, because I’ve watched it happen time and again in my own family.
Hands down, my father is the funniest man I know. He sugar coats absolutely nothing, and he is irreverent, crass, bold, and given to the darkest forms of humor I’ve ever known. And believe me when I say, I have laughed at some raunchy stuff. I can’t help myself…I know, I know. Somethings aren’t funny. But in my dad’s world, nothing is off-limits. If you were to look at his life, though, you would think this man should have been living his days in the fetal position in someone’s basement. A physically abused child, he became a criminal before puberty. The one time he tried to change his course in this life, and join the Marines, he was unable to fully assimilate to the life. He married my mom, a beauty queen, who left him high and dry for a guy who made more money. She hid his kids, bankrupted him in court and emotionally as well, and, in my perception, never gave him a second thought. His only son changed his last name to his stepfather’s name, and refuses to this day to even have a conversation with him. All he has is me… (personally, I think he is lucky, because I’m clearly awesome..but who knows?) His life has been filled to the rim with pain and hardship, and yet he makes every one around him laugh, even if it is somewhat nervously. Hands down, he had the hardest life of all of us. Does his pain decide what level his ability to make others laugh is at? I have a feeling that it does.
My brother Mike was raised in the same home as I was, but his journey involved different problems. He is very close-mouthed about our childhood, choosing to focus on his future instead of sorting through his past. Yet, as a fellow survivor of that household, I see the scars on him too. He has built for himself a successful and happy family, and he is a pastor of a pretty impressive church in Colorado. He even wrote a book called How To Knock Over A 7-Eleven and Other Ministry Training. You should read it if you ever get a chance, even if you have no interest whatsoever about churches or church building. The things that have happened to him are hilarious. The guy can tell a really good story. Again, I have to ask, would he be so funny if he had had a Noodle Salad life? Don’t know what a Noodle Salad life is? Read this: Noodle Salad People.
I am told I’m funny too. I have my moments, I guess. The more nervous I am, or the more I am trying to divert your attention away from something I find uncomfortable or painful, I am pretty damn witty. The difference, though, is that I am generally a happy, peaceful person. Yes, I bear the scars of childhood sexual abuse, neglect, and a ton of other painful experiences. But, those scars are healed up, and I find that when I get rolling, I’m genuinely happy to make others laugh, and in turn, I enjoy the happiness I am feeling because they are laughing. When depression rears its ugly head in my life, I generally ride it out by sleeping or coaxing my mind to pursue happier thoughts. I hope that is what Dad and Mike are doing to. Again, same question. Did my past have anything to do with this?
It is an interesting diversion to life’s pain — humor. Does everyone, to some degree, use this tool for coping as well? I’d be really interested in hearing your thoughts on this subject.
I worked in an accounting department for a really large oil company, along with almost 30
Keyboard V (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
other people. We’d recently merged with another company..or was taken over..depended on how you looked at it, and spirits were pretty low as people wondered just how secure their jobs were.
Being a person who enjoys practical jokes, I laid awake half the night trying to figure out a good practical joke to make people laugh, but something that wouldn’t get me in trouble..like before. Yeah. That’s a post for a different day.
Finally, in the middle of the night, I got up to scope the internet to see if I could come up with something. I sat down at the computer…and something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it…Ah, the keyboard was missing. My cat had knocked it to the side of the desk, and in the dark, I hadn’t seen it. I laughed because it took me a minute or two to figure it out.
The next morning, I went to work TWO hours early, and disconnected every single keyboard in the department and hid them in their file cabinets. All except mine of course. As people trickled in, I sat innocently at my desk typing away. (Trying not to laugh….)
As people noticed, they started chuckling, and then watching as other people came in, to see their reactions. Of course, they knew right away who had done this, because I can’t keep from laughing to save my butt! By the time everyone had been pranked, the atmosphere felt a lot lighter.
And I only got a verbal warning for wasting company time… Win / Win.
