Striking My Funny Bone

The things that elicit tears are not, for the most part, mysteries--loss, pain, ragweed.  But the sources behind laughter?  Their iterations are as varied as M&M flavors.  So, how do I explain all those giggles and guffaws from Friday night's co-worker Christmas gathering?

It wasn't one thing, that's for sure.

Turns out, humor, like a three-course meal, is a multi-layered thing, even if the results seem simple and pure.  And, like food, our personal tastes influence our reactions to it.

For instance, while I'm a nut for word play, physical humor and a well-told story, if there were a humor food truck called F Bombas, I'd likely drive on by.  Despite my ruddy, sturdy look, I'm a delicate creature when it comes to stimulating my funny bone.  A proliferation of swearing, like too much almond extract, is a turnoff for me.  Plus, it seems like cheap writing.  Although there has been one exception in that department--Hugh Grant's f-bomb rat-a-tat in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" cracks me up every time!

When I review the recipe for Friday night's fun, some common ingredients emerge--likable people, comfortable surroundings, good food, bad puns.  Interestingly, only one of those ingredients has its roots in humor.  Giggles, it seems, come more easily when mixed with some sort of behind-the-scenes bubble-inducing elixir--a baking soda for the soul, if you will.  Trust comes to mind as just such an ingredient.

A truly funny evening starts with a teaspoon of trust, ensuring that everyone--even the introverts (especially the introverts)--can have the stage at some point.   With trust in place, humor can flex its many muscles.

I've got a great friend--deeply respected in her profession and the larger community--whose dance moves leave me breathless and drunk with joy.  Another can rattle off a seemingly endless string of rotten puns--regardless of topic--leaving the rest of us vacillating between thoughts of violence and hopeless, joyful surrender.  And a well-timed sideward glance or eye roll?  Priceless!

Yes, there are limits (see F-Bombas).  And, while we are free to delve our own depths of weakness for material, we should be wary of such spelunking of others' lives.  Unless those folks are famous (see New York Times v. Sullivan, 1964).  Regardless of the target, though, mean humor runs its course quickly and leaves a person feeling kind of dirty and depleted.

The best humor lightens and connects us, like a perfect meal enjoyed in good company.