Saturday is National Let’s Laugh Day

The war in Ukraine, two years of COVID, $5.00 gas, out of control inflation, the very existence of Vladimir Putin, a completely polarized America…there’s really not that much to laugh about out there right now. And that’s exactly why it’s necessary to find reasons to laugh, no matter how depressing the world around us looks.

Laughter, truly is, the best medicine. It triggers numerous beneficial physical and mental responses within our bodies. It gives us a sense of community, is a wonderful stress reliever, improves our immune system, is a great mood booster as it releases endorphins, allows you to re-focus, inspires hope and lightens your burdens. In fact, there are studies out there that link laughter to a longer life span. So, with all that in mind, let’s turn off the news for a while and laugh a little (or at least smile).

The Grocery Store

When my family first moved to America from the UK in 1968, my mother had a rather humorous experience at the local grocery store (although she didn’t think so at the time). Other than having difficulty finding what she wanted, her shopping experience went fine until she went to check out. This particular store had rather unique method to deliver your purchases to your car. After your groceries were bagged, they were then placed on a conveyor belt (think airport luggage conveyor belt) and transported outside where you drove your car up, popped the trunk, and employees then kindly loaded your groceries within.

Well, needless to say, my mother was a bit confused as to where her groceries had disappeared to. She was then informed how the system worked. There was only one problem, she did not have a car. She, of course, was too embarrassed to inform the cashier of this fact. She then proceeded to wander outside and stand in line, with the cars, to retrieve her purchases like a person walking through a fast food drive thru. She then proudly walked up to the workers and retrieved her purchases without saying a word. Luckily, she hadn’t purchased a large amount and our apartment was just around the corner.

The Streaker

During the 1970s, my family discovered an affordable way to vacation every summer: camping. We initially began with tents and then graduated to a pop-up camper. There were no additional graduation ceremonies. The pop-up was the height of our camping luxury. I have very fond memories of those camping trips, but one stands out from the rest.

We usually camped with friends and/or neighbors and the adults sometimes drank more than just soda around the campfire. One particular campsite had a large pavilion that hosted dances. Think disco party in the woods, complete with mirrored disco ball. The year was 1976 and I had just turned 10 the previous winter. I never much cared for disco music, but with a 14-year-old sister, I was daily tortured with the sounds of Donna Summer; Earth, Wind and Fire; the Bee Gees; KC & the Sunshine Band and the Bay City Rollers. I often wonder how I survived.

Since we were at this campsite over the July 4^th holiday, the 200^th birthday of America, the campsite hosted a major firework display with disco blowout to follow. That being the case, alcohol was flowing freely that evening. Being curious and with having nothing else to do, I wandered over to the pavilion to continue my torture sessions and to keep an eye on my sister and her week-long campsite romance.

So, there I was on a sultry July evening, standing on the sideline as the floor emptied when Barry Manilow’s Mandy (“Mandy, you came, and you gave without taking.” Sorry, couldn’t resist) began to play and dudes scrambled to find a slow-dancing partner. Suddenly, a male figure paler than freshly poured milk and wearing knee-high tube socks, a pair of Chuck Taylors and nothing else, streaked across the pavilion floor. Women screamed and averted their eyes (except my sister), men retched, mothers covered their children’s eyes and people stumbled around in shock. All I remember initially thinking is, “Man, that’s a lot of pubic hair.” I then looked at the streaker’s face and realized that he was a member of our camping group.

After the commotion and horror dissipated, I wandered back to our campsite to inform everyone that some dude from our group just ran naked across the disco blowout party. However, word travelled faster than me, and our site was in quite the uproar. While I was not sure of the streaker’s identity, it seems everyone else was aware. It turns out he was the vice principle of our local middle school. It goes without saying that by the time I got to middle school, he was no longer part of the administrative staff.

Happy National Let’s Laugh Day, and I hope I got your weekend off to a good start!