I was reading a book today that had me laughing so hard, I was wiping tears. That may not be so unusual, but when I returned home earlier in the day, I was upset enough to be in tears, but not the 'joyful' kind. It made me think how important laughter is for our well-being. There are so many things in our world to cry about, we lose all sense of perspective if we don't add a little humor. To that end, I am going to tell you about an event that happened this summer. I was saving this for a speaking engagement some day because it is so much better with facial expressions, but you will just have to use your imaginations, okay?
I came downstairs to the sight of many official cars blocking the street 2 blocks from my front door. There were unmarked police cars, state, county and city police cars, and a large white van; all in front of an apartment building. As I watched from my front porch (this kind of activity is worthy of a Mrs. Cravits rubbernecking), I saw men in haz-mat suits carrying boxes from the apartment building to the van. Ah-ha. Must be a meth lab. There has never been that kind of activity anywhere close to my house on PUTNAM STREET, (it's important to this story that you remember my street name) but there is a first time for everything and meth has no socio-economic boundaries.
I went back in the house. Thirty minutes later, Kalisha finds me and says, "Mom, there's a couple policemen on the porch and they want to talk to you."
My thought was 'Well, crap, what do they want?' One was in a city policeman's uniform and the other was still in his haz-mat suit, minus the head gear. This is our ensuing conversation:
"Do you live here?"
"Yes." (I wanted to say, No, I just thought I would hang out here for a while and answer the door when you came.)
"We have a report that a man from that apartment building came to this house today." (Now I wanted to say, Sir, I have been divorced for a very long time and I assure you if a man was in my house, I am pretty certain I would know it.)
Instead, I said, "No. There has been no one here today except the people who live here."
"And who lives here?"
"Me, I'm Gloria Doty, my daughter, Kalisha Doty, my granddaughter, E.S.(I gave him her full name) and her girlfriend, who is staying here for a few weeks."
"And what is the girlfriend's name?"
"Megan, ummmm, I don't know her last name."
"You have someone living in your house and you don't know their last name?" he said rather unbelievingly.
"Well, give me a minute. Oh, wait, yes, I do know her last name. It's Putnam."
Now, he looks at me like I am a doddering old fool and says, as condescendingly as he can, "LADY, that's the name of the street you live on."
I wanted to say, 'No S---, Sherlock.' "Yes, It is, but it also happens to be her last name."
There is more to this story (nothing bad) but I won't bore you with it. I was laughing so hard by the time they left, I was about to wet my pants. First, I want to say there is nothing funny about using meth or meth labs and these officers were doing their duty. The whole scenario was hysterical to me and the fact that I never even thought about her name and my street being the same until he acted as though I was too senile to remember either one.
Laughter is good for us even in non-funny circumstances, sometimes. If we don't find a little humor in everyday things, we turn into sour old prunes.
I came downstairs to the sight of many official cars blocking the street 2 blocks from my front door. There were unmarked police cars, state, county and city police cars, and a large white van; all in front of an apartment building. As I watched from my front porch (this kind of activity is worthy of a Mrs. Cravits rubbernecking), I saw men in haz-mat suits carrying boxes from the apartment building to the van. Ah-ha. Must be a meth lab. There has never been that kind of activity anywhere close to my house on PUTNAM STREET, (it's important to this story that you remember my street name) but there is a first time for everything and meth has no socio-economic boundaries.
I went back in the house. Thirty minutes later, Kalisha finds me and says, "Mom, there's a couple policemen on the porch and they want to talk to you."
My thought was 'Well, crap, what do they want?' One was in a city policeman's uniform and the other was still in his haz-mat suit, minus the head gear. This is our ensuing conversation:
"Do you live here?"
"Yes." (I wanted to say, No, I just thought I would hang out here for a while and answer the door when you came.)
"We have a report that a man from that apartment building came to this house today." (Now I wanted to say, Sir, I have been divorced for a very long time and I assure you if a man was in my house, I am pretty certain I would know it.)
Instead, I said, "No. There has been no one here today except the people who live here."
"And who lives here?"
"Me, I'm Gloria Doty, my daughter, Kalisha Doty, my granddaughter, E.S.(I gave him her full name) and her girlfriend, who is staying here for a few weeks."
"And what is the girlfriend's name?"
"Megan, ummmm, I don't know her last name."
"You have someone living in your house and you don't know their last name?" he said rather unbelievingly.
"Well, give me a minute. Oh, wait, yes, I do know her last name. It's Putnam."
Now, he looks at me like I am a doddering old fool and says, as condescendingly as he can, "LADY, that's the name of the street you live on."
I wanted to say, 'No S---, Sherlock.' "Yes, It is, but it also happens to be her last name."
There is more to this story (nothing bad) but I won't bore you with it. I was laughing so hard by the time they left, I was about to wet my pants. First, I want to say there is nothing funny about using meth or meth labs and these officers were doing their duty. The whole scenario was hysterical to me and the fact that I never even thought about her name and my street being the same until he acted as though I was too senile to remember either one.
Laughter is good for us even in non-funny circumstances, sometimes. If we don't find a little humor in everyday things, we turn into sour old prunes.
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