When I was younger, I was quiet, somewhat shy, and very serious. I didn’t reveal my true personality to many people. I bottled myself up inside. Then I went through a season of tears which made me even more introverted.
As I got older something changed. I snapped. All of a sudden, not only was I a lot more outgoing, but the giggles that had been suppressed for so long seemed to explode from my person. I discovered a very revealing truth. I would rather laugh than cry. For starters, laughing is a hell of a lot more fun, and second…too much boo flipping hooing is not only depressing but it tends to give you a snot nose for the rest of the day. Who wants that?? After a while, I decided I didn’t. I no longer wanted to sweat the small stuff. I am having an uphill battle trying to instill that into my kids. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Only get worked up over the big stuff. I mean really, did anyone die?? I found out first hand when my parents died that of all moments in life…that was a good moment to cry your eyes out.
The older I get, the funnier I get. People say I am funny even when I am not trying to be funny. I tend to get the giggles. I laugh my happy a$$ off over things that leave other people scratching their heads and wondering. Well hells bells, isn’t that a lot more fun?? Laugh and the world laughs with you. They can’t help it, because laughter is contagious. Cry, bitch, and moan, and you are on your own. Sad but true. Of course, there may be those chosen few that will be your shoulder to cry on and your punching bag, but after a while…they will avoid you. They will get sick of it and be down the road so fast it will make your head swim.
I choose to laugh, and have become pretty good at finding the humor in just about everything. I pride myself in being loonier than a toon and one sandwich short of a picnic. Granted, I do have some semblance of a social feeler. I can sense who would handle one of my outlandish comments, and who would be wondering why. It is a gift. Still sometimes I just don’t give a flying fig and tell it like it is. In the wake of shock that follows one of my outbursts, I explain it off to the fact that I am pre-menopausal. Then I get a case of the giggles that is infectious. If you get me on the phone, well then the social feelers go right out the window and I am at my most outrageous. G0d help the bill collectors and telemarketers that dare to call my house! Most of them walk away winning a free bushel of horse $hit. Yes, I do pass out those to random people who have the audacity to call me on the phone.
Anymore, I laugh at just about anything. If someone startles me, I laugh. If I see something that strikes me funny, I laugh. Laughing is good for what ails you! My dad always used to get really pious and say “Quakers meeting has begun, no more laughing, no more fun, no more chewing gum” and instead of catching the pious bug and acting all straight laced and uptight like I was supposed to, I would bust a gut. I simply couldn’t help myself. It isn’t just what people say, it is the way they say it, or the expression on their face that gets me. I have also discovered mooning people tends to break up the seriousness of the situation. Use with extreme caution!! I only pull that at home, and discriminate who gets that pleasure. Some folks just wouldn't understand...and most can't handle a little a$$. After seeing some kids show their shiny moon out of a school bus window, I have been inspired ever since. Laughed so hard I almost wrecked my car that time.
I believe I inherited this trait of hilarity from my Dad. That man was hilarious!! He would come off with the craziest things. For example, after he had a stroke he was in the hospital and the nurse came into his room and told him she would be taking him for his bath. My dad gazed up at her with a half smile and read her name tag which said Eileen. He said to her “Is that your name?” She smile and replied “Why yes! It is!” My dad says “If I lean over will you kiss my a$$?” There was a space of about 5 seconds of silence when she and I looked at him in shocked disbelief. My jaw dropped, and I just lost it. I couldn’t help myself, and the laughter was contagious. The nurse claimed no one had ever said anything like that to her before. I laughed so hard I almost choked on myself and peed my pants!
Anyways you get the picture. Laughter is as uncontrollable to me as breathing. I just got to! Like Uncle Albert in the classic Disney movie “Mary Poppins”, I love to laugh and if a person could really float to the ceiling from to much laughter, I would spend the better share of my life laughing myself silly on the ceiling. We should all be so happy. Try laughing, it is good for what ails you! Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
One momentous day my dad came home with a whoopee cushion. My mother had never seen one before and was intrigued. My dad explained, even demonstrated to our delight. At the time, my folks had a wooden rocking chair in the living room complete with a cushion my mom had sewn resting on its wooden seat. When my Dad placed it under the cushion on the rocking chair and proceeded to demonstrate, a fart the size of the universe was emitted. My mother and I completely lost it. God knows, farts are funny anyways! Who could resist? We all laughed so hard, we were soon coughing, sputtering, and blowing snot from our noses, with tears streaming down our faces.
After we finished taking turns slamming our butts on the whoopee cushion and laughing hysterically like a pack of hyenas, we plotted. What unsuspecting sap could we lure to the chair? The perfect choice was my older sister. She no longer lived at home, and hadn’t for quite some time. She never just dropped in to see us. When she did show her face there was always a motive and that motive always involved a donation to her favorite cause-herself. Whether it was food, money, or free vegetables or flowers from the garden, she would only stop in to visit if it would benefit her, never staying long.
I don’t remember how my parents managed to get her to show up that day, but she showed up sniffing the air like a bulldog drawn to fresh meat. My dad had set the stage carefully. He blew the whoopee cushion up to full capacity and placed it under the velvety pillow on the rocking chair.
When she finally arrived, we quickly took our places. The need for ultimate surprise was essential. She couldn’t know or even sense that anything was amiss. We sat down leaving only the rocking chair empty. We held our breath, and waited. My Dad quickly reminded us “Quaker’s meeting has begun, no more laughing, no more fun, no more chewing bubble gum!” We zipped our lips, and it was game on!!
Since there was nowhere else to sit, my sister was forced to her only available option. She walked in and made a beeline to her doom. She piously sank into the rocking chair with reckless abandon. Immediately, the silence was broken by a fart loud enough to shatter glass. My sister let out a scream, and her legs and arms shot straight out like a cannon. She almost fell off the rocking chair in obvious shock. Her face went crimson, and she sputtered and choked on her own laughter. She didn’t know what the hell hit her! Needless to say, it was a moment for the record books that will live in the recesses of my twisted mind forever.
From that day forth, the rocking chair sat empty. No one dared sit in it, for fear my Dad had planted the whoopee cushion. Those brave enough to dare had the brains to check under the cushion before taking a seat. As time passed, the rocking chair was eventually moved to a spare bedroom. To this day I have no earthly clue what became of the rocking chair or the whoopee cushion. All that lingers is the echoing laughter and the memory. One thing is for sure, it wouldn't have been near as sweet if not for the element of complete surprise. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
