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I am told that volumes are written on humor. Somewhere, decades ago I read, “Incongruity inspires laughter.” We know that not all which exists can be personally meaningful to us. When we encounter something which thus captures us it is because this something engages our minds or touches our hearts. Similarly, to inspire mirth, mere incongruity is not enough. The need is for an unfolding remarkably surpassing daily commonplaces. The lovely smile gracing features in a tranquil, happy moment, as well as festive merriment, are – I think – relatives of humor, for they take us, however briefly, above the mundane dullness of existence. When humor in its biting form is put into an utterance, someone will be someone’s prey whose day no longer will be dull. The benign tease looks upon himself as masterful, but does so peaceably and without inflicting pain. It seems an amiable way to have this fun when one’s victim is only pretended, but not real.  Harmless Cyclops Breathing in the Cold A Cyclops is a gigantic, man-devouring mythological being with but a single eye. My Cyclops here is “average-man” – a little plump – bald – middle-aged. But if he resembles closely someone another someone knows, that other someone’s laughter can be more gloating than well-meaning.  Let me now recall a masterful political cartoon by MacNelly – masterful because there was no victim: a sturdy housewife, during the Bill Clinton years says to a baffled-looking pollster, “I like the dirt-bag.” The “LIKE”-ing and the presidential “dirt-bag” make odd company. Yet the liking takes out all sting from the unwashed name. So some of us, at least, smiled or even laughed indulgently and fondly. Is not such jesting a deal more loveable than that which gains a triumph through sharpening the claws of ridicule? Summary Mirth includes always the endeavor to master the occasion which arouses it. By that feature humor supplies a true and valuable recourse when hard adversity taxes our courage. And it is a fine conceit indeed to find a way to feel indulgently forgiving toward the President of the United States. Even our gift of receptivity, to happy hours we can regard with smiles, subdues for us the drab, and maybe troubling, every-days.  A number of the topics in this series were familiar ground of which I sought to improve my understanding. Though I have had my fun, I have never studied how I had it – never studied humor. So I have to hope that this, my first attempt, has not been too awkward and inept.   Janet taught me the word. And on my own I learned how to escape the trouble that word means. Note this example of my sterling common sense. Thus I reasoned brilliantly, I think, that the stairs to our basement make really a superior laundry chute For I pitched – as had grown my wont to do – some shirts and socks and other items down my well-loved way, when that day a stentorian voice caught me off my guard: “I saw that, Johannes!” “Yes, dear,” was Johannes’ meek and peaceable reply. Was this not a crafty way to avoid a main “kerfluffle”? “Yes-DEAR-ing” is indeed a time-much-tested refuge from the Wifely Wroth.  After all, “kerfluffles” are best when they don’t happen. You believe me, don’t you, if I tell you that I never, ever raise a fuss? So with my best superior mien I sometimes pick tenderly on Janet for “big-dealing” trifles. Now I can frame my complaints with much more eloquence: “Do please stop ‘kerfluffling’ me.” We husbands are a brilliant lot. Or do you think it’s all low cunning?  Strange Growth on Janet's Kitchen FloorThere remains one more little thing to tell. One day I came down the basement stairs and, at the bottom, were to be seen “loveable dainties” – none of them my own – ’NUFF said!   Americans are red-blooded, generous, and virile. They squander dollars upon beauty, but have no taste for drab. Years ago – for the Lady’s and my own delight – I designed a jewel of an emblem, this to be worn not with garments lusterless and dull, but jointly with her “bestest” finery. Thus we guys won’t mind much – indeed, will hardly notice – that Your Ladyship is also most costly to maintain.  Yet, regrettably, there is to be considered – red-blooded too, but not claiming to be virile – the other half of our people. These are the tigresses of our nation. To them your brightest loveliness, dear Lady, can only be an angry sore. For, the tigresses are the mature and prudent half of us and reckon the Lady is just a pesty bother, troublesome and greedy – so sorry! Still if, with becoming grace, you wear the jewel that I made for you, you may win yet a heart or two, who knows?    Monika’s husband is a living “good example.” When once we came to talking, Monika rendered full account of all the helpful chores her Richard happily and always performed for her ease and for her pleasure.  So exhaustive was her numeration that I felt need to comment: Johannes: “This raises an interesting question.” Lucky Lady: “What do I do?” Johannes: “Yes?” Lucky Lady: “I look pretty.” That, I truthfully conceded, the lady did indeed most competently and becomingly.    I have long been fond of exercise and, to gain a useful layman’s lore, studied some bone and muscle anatomy and kinesiology. For, real expertise is out of my reach, and “Do this – do that” directives leave much unclear. I therefore sought mainly “first-pace comprehension” and tried to pass it on as “first-pace explaining.” For example, it is easier to give time to warming up when I learn that warm muscles deliver more of their power. In the muscular action of breathing, this brings to us a most welcome “second wind.” The experts know all this and more, yet seldom put any of it into words.  My “first-pace explainings” are a help to a fine lady who has begun “working out” with me. Our friend has lauded me most liberally as a patient, gentle, and altogether sterling, ancient pedagogue. As twice a week is a scanty fitness effort, I inquired: “Do you keep up with your work at home – I mean – when I am not looking?” My nice lady: “No!” And so, with her prettiest mocking smile, “milady” shot me through the heart.   Janet and I once were friends with a lovely old lady – she has since passed away – who told us proudly how many beaux paid court to her when she was young.  At the time I noted down our exchange together with a summarizing comment. Johannes: “Did you break their hearts?” Old Lady: “So they claimed.” Johannes: “Did you believe them?” Old Lady: “I believed them.” Johannes: “Did you care?” Old Lady: “No.” Johannes “Tis a hard, hard world in which we live and cruel are the times.” For you and me, my friend, the times and world have not unfolded more accommodating since.   |
Johannes
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