I love silly humor. I love a lot of different kind of humor, but silly has a large place in my heart. If the silliness has an element of intelligence, I’m even happier. I’ve always been a fan of Monty Python and Douglas Adams, early Mel Brooks, Billy Connolly, the old sitcom called Working, etc., etc. You probably get the idea.
In the past, there have been times when I’ve gotten on something of a silly roll. I love the surprised smiles (and barking laughs when it hits home particularly well) that I can provoke in others. If others won’t smile at a bit of silliness, I can simply amuse myself. Which often will then amuse someone else, until we’re all being a bit silly.
For a couple of years, I seemed to have lost my silly bone. I thought it was just that, since I was becoming a bit older, I was entering into some sort of geezer-like state of curmudgeonly dourness. It came upon me so slowly, I almost didn’t even notice. I suspect I became a little less fun to be around.
Then, in the hospital last month (was it only last month???), one day, I started to be silly with some of the nurses and the phlebotomists. (Phlebotomy is such a silly word, how could I not include them?) I found myself laughing, even when all I received from a nurse (or phlebotomist. Or a janitor) was a confused tilt of the head.
All of a sudden, I realized I’d gotten my silly back! I have no idea if it had all been covered up by the medications I’d been taking for years or by the chronic conditions I was suffering from (even though I was mostly unaware of them – can suffering be the correct word if you’re unaware of it?) It probably doesn’t matter why it went away. Today, I called my younger brother. My sister-in-law answered. She is very intelligent, a doctor, and can be quite funny. We had each other laughing fairly quickly. She told me I was sounding so much better. So much brighter. I told her it was just that I’d rediscovered my silly. She agreed that was the correct and appropriate diagnosis.
Now I will be on the lookout for extended, silly-free times in my life. If I notice I’ve entered one, I’ll rush out and put a banana in my socks and drink a toast to Tristam Shandy.
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