Laughing Matters

How often do you laugh? Five, 15, 25, 100 times a day?

It’s a funny question (excuse the pun) but I was forced to ask it when my 5-year-old son said something that got me thinking.

“What does daddy’s laugh sound like?” he asked my wife, one day when I was at work. My wife told me about his question when I got home.

“You should laugh with your children more,” she said to me.

Trying not to get defensive, I said, “I laugh with them all the time … for the most part.”

What I meant was, I am with them a lot, take them places like the library and museums and playgrounds, explore things, talk with them, tickle them, do all the fun things a good father should do with his two boys, and we laugh a lot. Or at least they do.

But what about me; am I short on laughter?

A little context is in order. My wife has a fantastic, full-bodied laugh that breaks out more times than I can count a day, and even in situations that many would find not too humorous. She is very intelligent, and can be very serious about life, and very strict with our children – as the occasion warrants – but her tension-breaking laughter is never far off. She can make even the saddest heart smile.

She comes from a family of laughers who come from a culture of laughter in the Philippines. My wife says the hardship of life for many Filipinos has forced them to make a choice between laughter and depression, and most choose to laugh. I saw this firsthand when my wife and I flew to Manila last October a few days after the devastating floods that covered the capital city and entirely submerged low-lying communities. Hundreds died, thousands were rescued from roofs and left homeless. My in-laws made a miraculous escape from the rising waters, a tale that I wrote about here.

When my wife and I sat with her family in a temporary apartment, they spoke with gravity about losing the home that her father helped build, and digging through the sludge to salvage warped wooden furniture, and personal items like books, diaries and photographs. Then they laughed. They cooked, ate, talked, lamented and laughed. It struck me as a perfect recipe for mental health. “Laughter is the Best Medicine,” says the old Reader’s Digest column that has probably been the periodical’s longest-running department.

Which brings me back to my youngest son’s question: “What does daddy’s laugh sound like?” Well, I come from an Irish dry-humor culture, the kind that thrives on irony, the little twists and turns of life, the funny things in everyday life that may go unnoticed. The main element in the Irish dry-humor tradition is –- get it? –- to tell a joke without laughing! Or to throw a little dark humor into a crowd that just seems to be laughing too much. After all, the song says “when Irish eyes are smiling.” If you want to know what we really think, look at our eyes.

Some years ago, when I arrived alone in Ireland for the first time to meet my dad’s distant family, I was greeted with hugs and back slaps and laughter as we got to know one another. After everyone settled down and the conversation thinned out, my uncle John broke the silence with a trademark Caulfield comment spoken with a rich brogue: “So you’re here. I guess your plane didn’t go down.” I knew I was among family.

My wife says that when I do laugh, it is a wonderful, joyful, innocent sound like something released from a child’s heart. “You should laugh more,” she says.

“Why use up a good thing?” I reply, with my Irish eyes smiling.

Comments

[Seamus]

I'll remember this one when I watch the St. Patricks Day parade. The luck of the Irish is in our way of dealing with the world. A little irony, a little laugh, a little sip of what bit ya.

[Finbar B]

The rest of the song says "When Irish eyes are cryin', they can steal your heart away." The Irish have always had a dual enotional life - the laugh leads to crying, and vice versa, because nothing in this world is perfectly good or wholly bad. It comes and goes like the Irish rain.

[Arlotti Armani]

Did John Wayne laugh much in the Quiet Man movie? Don't think so, yet he was a great comic actor because he evoked that sense of humor that befits the Irishmen of righteous anger.

[Gerry J.]

I always thought the Irish had a lilting laugh and a wee bit of a smile. What a great blog to contemplate as we come to St. Patrick's Day.

[Joan B.]

You good old Irish lad you!!

[Dave Pearson]

Do cackles count, Brian? I'm more of a loud cackler than a belly laugher.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

See?

Fun piece, btw. Thanks -- we needed that!

[Zachary Caro]

I have a 4 month old son, my wife and I laugh a lot, but this article reminds me of my father in law. I think most if his humor is the Irish kind though he doesn't have any Irish background. Good article.