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I am a father, grandfather, and officially a senior citizen. Yet even at this age, I still hold memories of my own father, who passed many years ago. When I think of him, I notice that the first thing that comes to mind is his laugh. I can still hear it today. It was, as I’ve come to define it, a ‘real’ laugh – unconstrained by circumstance. When I would listen to him laugh, there was never a question of its authenticity; I knew he enjoyed the moment. And if he happened to be teasing you, his laugh would be accompanied by a devilish twinkle in his eye.

We have long known that laughter is good for you, physically and mentally. The benefits of laughter have now been well studied – it relieves stress, relaxes muscles, boosts the immune system, and more. Although the science of laughter is becoming better defined, it is the practice of it that eludes me too often.

I do not have my father’s sense of humor; mine is what I would consider dry. Although my funny bone appears to be connected in all the right places, I suffer from the disease of ‘Analysis’ – an affliction known to take things too seriously. I would like to believe this disease is work-related, resulting from my profession as an engineer. But, on reflection, I think it is the reverse; I chose my career, having already been so afflicted.

In my search for a cure, I’ve made a bit of a study of laughter. In my father’s case, his laughter was utterly natural – organic, if you will. It required no artificial ingredients, prompts, or prodding, and it knew no limits. That laugh could be the carrier for withering criticism, self-deprecation, or a simple reaction to absurdity. It was genuine. Another source that I find natural is with children at play. They laugh continuously – sometimes punctuated by high-pitched screaming while laughing. The genesis of this laughter seems to be a pure delight in being alive and cavorting with friends.

Laughter at social gatherings doesn’t have the same ‘feel’; it is either constrained by social circumstances or prompted by the same. Social laughing often originates in the chest or, worse yet, in the head. It doesn’t engage the gut. I am not fooled by this laughter.

I have spent many nights working at my desk as the house becomes quiet and lights blink on one by one. My wife and daughter will eventually seek to unwind and find a comedy to watch. When they do, I find myself pushing back from the keyboard to just listen to them laugh. They know the secret like my father did! They laugh from the gut, and it doesn’t take much to get them going. From my vantage point, it is very much like the sounds from the playground – joyful.

Pardon me, please. I hear their laughter, and I need to see what’s so funny. I hope it’s a cure.

*****

Kevin Deeny