My dad considered a sense of humor a survival skill. His left arm and hand were crippled when he fell off a horse when he was three. He learned to do everything with one arm and hand, including taking great care of his family. He survived the taunting and cruelty shown him at school by making them laugh. It worked. Everyone liked him because he saw things through very creative, sensitive eyes and always added a humorous twist.
When he would compliment my dress, though, it meant my dress was too short, too ‘something,’ and he wanted me to change. It took me years to NOT look in someone’s eyes when they compliment me, looking for the ‘dig.’ I have learned to just enjoy it and say a grateful, “Thank you!”
I loved listening to his stories. He would have me rolling on the floor laughing by the end of some of them. There was one he told of he and his friends going camping by the river one night. None of them had the first idea of how to ‘camp,’ though my dad and one of his friends helped with a boy scout group. They prepared for bed, getting out sleeping bags, etc. One man started digging a hole. He explained he would use it to make sleeping more comfortable, measuring it carefully to mold to his butt. The others followed, thinking it sounded like a great idea. They all settled in for the night. Suddenly, one of the men started cursing – finally getting up and moving his sleeping bag, saying angrily, “I sleep on my STOMACH!”
My healthy sense of humor has saved my sanity my whole life. Sometimes it allows me to stand back and see a situation as if it were a movie, and I’m able to see the humor in it. Many times I laugh when it is really not a good or appropriate thing to do. I got in trouble at school because a friend and I would lock eyes and then simply collapse with laughter. Even now, I avoid eye contact when I’m amused and it is NOT the time to laugh. DON’T LOOK AT ME! :0)
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