I’m sure you’ve noticed that the older people get, the more serious our conversations become.
Take, for example, a visit with elderly parents.
We want them to live as long as possible. They’re not as vigorous as they used to be. So we worry. We don’t want them to fall. We remind them to take their meds.
Staying alive is serious business, and that’s the way it should be. Safety first, second and third.
Let’s admit, though, that there’s one delicious aspect of life that gets smothered in this earnest bustle of seriousness.
Laughter.
Yes, remember laughter?
Who doesn’t like to laugh? Didn’t someone once say that laughter is the best medicine?
The problem with laughter, though, is that it doesn’t just show up. What invariably shows up with our bubbes and zeides is “What did the doctor say?” or “What are we having for dinner?” or “How are the kids?”
A good laugh? You have to chase it.
In any case, have you seen the news lately? Have you seen how much they’re hating Jews and what they’re saying about Israel?
Who’s got time to crack up in these crazy times?
Well, I do.
I got a little taste while visiting my 93-year-old mother in Montreal. Our social planning consisted of me staying in the house all day. We watched news and Family Feud, had plenty of Moroccan tea and conversations about taking the soup out of the freezer, Facetime with grandchildren, and, of course, meds, meds, meds.
There were moments, though, when I would get her to crack up.
One of my go-to bits (always in French) was how much I loved to eat as soon as I was born.
“I’m three seconds old! What do I know about a mother or a father? All you were for me was a restaurant open 24 hours. And you were free!”
Of course she ate it up. It wasn’t polite laughter. It was a happy outburst.
Being the ambitious son that I am, I looked for more such happy moments. I played her favorite crooners on Youtube. Mostly, I poked fun at whatever came on the television, like contestants on Family Feud or The Price Is Right (Howie Mandel!). In a pinch, I would return to the “three-second-old hungry baby.” That thing has legs.
The point is, it’s ridiculously obvious that it’s fun to have a good time.
It’s also ridiculously obvious that laughter is rarely a priority.
One of the great things about being Jewish in Los Angeles is that we take our laughter seriously. Elon Gold, Jeff Ross, Mark Schiff, Eli Leonard, Avi Lieberman, Marcus Freed, the list is endless. For Jamie Masada of The Laugh Factory, it’s a lifetime mission. These guys know all about chasing laughs.
I grew up chasing those laughs. My teen years are filled with silly memories. Among my group of friends, it was laughter first.
Then you get older, get a job, start a family, go to galas that talk about antisemitism, and next thing you know, life starts to get a serious.
But I’m a refusenik. I’ve always been a refusenik. When life gets too serious, I binge on Curb or call Elon Gold.
All this to say I was prepared for my mother. I’ve been an amateur laugh hunter my whole life.
But since I’m also a community columnist, I can’t finish without at least one practical idea.
Maybe something like The Laughter Crew– gather funny Jews around town and spread them out like angel dust to senior homes everywhere.
Come up with your own ideas. Whatever you do, next time you visit bubbe or zeide or any elderly, try to chase a few good laughs.
Life is short.
They need their medicine.
