That's not funny! Oh, wait...yes, it is...

My friend recently shared this photo on her Facebook timeline:

I love it!  So true.

My family is gifted in the laughter department.  When UB and I were dating, he said to me “Your family laughs a lot!  Like, all the time.”  I thought this was such an odd observation—doesn’t everyone’s family laugh a lot?  Um, no.  They don’t. 

But mine does—we laugh in good times, we laugh in bad times, and we laugh at inappropriate times. And I am so very thankful.  Well, maybe not so much for the inappropriate laughter.  That can be a bit of a challenge, especially when you try to suppress it which of course makes things even funnier and then you find yourself shaking, abs hurting, trying to get a hold of yourself so you don’t completely embarrass your appropriately-serious father.  Because snickering and snorting during a 9/11 Memorial Service is so not appropriate. 

It wasn’t my fault!  It was my mom’s—she started it and since I was sitting next to her, I got sucked in.  This wasn’t a recent event—oh, no.  This was a service that took place about one month after 9-11 took place.  The country was still reeling from the shock, rubble still filled the streets of New York City, and the incredible sacrifice and heroism of the 1^st responders was on everyone’s mind.  So a ceremony was held at our Town Hall to celebrate our 1^st responders and remember the sacrifices of those in NYC. 

This was an extremely solemn event, during which they had a dove release; a beautiful symbol of peace.  Shortly after the birds took flight, there was a 21-gun salute, which if you’ve never heard is pretty impressive.  Any idea where this is going?  As the 21-gun salute went on, Mom put her head down and started to shake slightly.  I leaned in and asked what was wrong, but she just shook her head.  She started to shake a bit more noticeably, and I knew she was trying to suppress laughter but had no idea what she found so funny.  So I asked again and she whispered:

“I hope the doves are out of range!” 

Maybe it doesn’t seem so funny now, and we both know they were shooting blanks, but at the time, the thought of one of the doves soaring gracefully then BAM plummeting to the ground…so much for that bit of symbolism! Oh, my word.  That’s when I learned that the only thing worse than trying to suppress inappropriate laughter is trying to suppress shared inappropriate laughter.  There we were, both of us with heads down, hands over our mouths, shaking, trying desperately to look like we were moved to tears by the solemnity of it all.  It didn’t work.  Dad kept whispering “Knock it OFF, you two!”  while trying to scoot his chair over to put some distance between us.  Eventually we pulled it together in time to stand and sing the final patriotic hymn, our cheeks and abs sore from the repressive effort. 

It probably doesn’t help that my family loves to watch stand-up comedians. Brian Regan is one of our go-to guys.  His bit about going to the emergency room is a particular favorite.  I can’t tell you how much it has helped to be able to laugh in the midst of medical crisis. But then there are times when one of his sketches will pop into my mind at the most inconvenient times.  Like the one about shopping for refrigerators. (If you haven't seen it before, click here to watch. It’s really funny and what’s below will make much more sense to you.)

It’s totally fine when we’re shopping at Sears or Lowes and we pass the appliance department.  We actually bought a refrigerator a few years back and had a grand time of it, thanks to our pal Brian. 

But it’s not so good when we’re in the funeral home.  We were there meeting with the Funeral Director to make arrangements for my father-in-law.  Dad had been fighting lung cancer for about nine months when some sort of infection caught hold of his weakened immune system.  He died suddenly, the day before my birthday, when I was five months pregnant with Grant. 

Anyway, there I was with UB’s family as they scheduled the calling hours, chose the  prayer card design and the prayer card poem, etc.  Then it was time to choose the casket.  The Funeral Director pulled out this sizable catalog and began to show us various casket options.  I had no idea there were so many choices and such a wide range of prices—from wicker caskets (oh yes—wicker) all the way up to hermetically-sealed, ornate pieces of art with copious scroll work and satin lining.  And as he’s explaining the different options, all I can think is:

“This casket right here, this holds your loved one’s remains for $1200.  You’ve got this casket; this one holds your loved one’s remains for $2500.  Check this out: $5500—holds your loved one’s remains.” 

Oh. My. Word.  It was all I could do to hold it together and not snicker as we are looking through this catalog.  If it had been my family at that table, at least two of us would’ve started quoting that bit at the same time and we’d have all devolved into a shared fit of inappropriate laughter.  But this was UB’s family.  Not that they don’t laugh at things—his family has their own traditions of laughing at bodily functions and discussing them at the dinner table.  UB’s dad had a terrific sense of humor, and had he been there he would’ve been cracking jokes about how ridiculous some of the more expensive models were.  But he wasn't there and I had to keep it together lest I be demoted from inlaw to outlaw.  

This is not the only case of funeral-inspired inappropriate laughter in my family.  My aunt has some great stories to tell! (Hmmm...maybe I can convince her to write a guest blog post...) Even though an overactive funny bone is inconvenient at times, I'm grateful for it.  What a blessing it's been as we’ve navigated the ups and downs of these past few years. So the next time I’m in a meeting or a church service and you see me put my head down and my shoulders start to shake, do yourself a favor and look away. Don’t get sucked into my irreverent snicker-fest.  Your abs will thank you.  J