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Dalton
Roberts |
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I am always on the prowl for little rituals from other countries and cultures that will enrich my own life. I have found one among the Navajos that would greatly benefit us all. It’s called “Baby’s First Laugh Party.” I learned about it in a book by Lori Alvord and Elizabeth Van Pelt titled The Scalpel and the Silver Bear. When a baby is born, the Navajos believe the “wind” (soul) enters the body but is not attached to the body until the baby’s first laugh. So everybody in the family and all the family’s friends want to be the first one to make the baby laugh. This lucky person gets to host a party to celebrate the child’s soul joining its body. As the child grows up it will always feel a special closeness to the person who first made it laugh. This implants a deep respect for laughter in the child’s mind. How I would love to know the person who first made me laugh! Even after all these years, I would feel a bond with that person. Nothing prepares us to live life well like good, heartfelt, happy, healthy laughter. Not all laughter is healthy. I had a brother-in-law who only laughed when people hurt themselves. You could get him to laugh to the point of tears by merely falling down a flight of stairs. Plays on words did nothing for him. Nor did toying with ideas. Not even jokes jiggled his funny bone unless, of course, the jokes were about people falling down stairs. You can diagnose a person’s psyche by listening to samples of their laughter. There are those who laugh with you and there is a communal closeness you feel with them. I love their chuckles and chortles. There are others who only laugh at you. If you do something stupid, they will be delighted. Even better, hurt yourself real bad. This is the laugh of a sadist and if you want to be shocked, notice how many people have this sick way of laughing. My personal zychiatrist, Dr. Ziggman Frogg, tells me the best way to diagnose a healthy person is to see if they can laugh good-naturedly at themselves. Red Skelton was more fun that a potato sack full of baby monkeys because he loved all the little people he had created, like Freddy the Freeloader and Clem Cadiddlehopper. I loved the way he giggled at himself as he brought them to life. I quit voting for a big-name local politician when I saw he could not laugh at himself. I met him on Cherry Street one day and told him a joke that was going around that poked innocent fun at him. He stood there and stared a hole in me. I thought, “You silly goose! You are way too much in love with your solemn, boring self.” Never put a man in a position of power if he takes himself too seriously. He will do you great harm. We owe those who make us laugh. In high school one summer I worked on a crew of bush-hookers. It was one of the hardest jobs I ever had. A boy from Central High School kept me laughing every day. I wish I could remember his name. I’d love to buy him a steak and listen to his routines one more time. I offer thanks today to my fellow musician, Al Harvey, who has made me laugh more than anyone on the planet. I have hundreds of tapes of edited conversations with him and they are not for sale at any price. A sample of his philosophy and humor is, “There’s a time for glee and a time for woe, a time to peacock and a time to lay low, and it’s up to you to know what time it is.” I hope I have convinced you to throw a Navajo “First Laugh Party” for your next bundle of joy.
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