Humor

What’s funny? What isn't? This is an age-old question. Lots of answers have been attempted and some good ones, too. But I bet no one has adequately or accurately answered the question. The reason: too many variables of taste, circumstance, language, environmental factors and those elements don’t even take into account the variableness of education and mental agility.

Humor is a sophisticated topic. When Bill Cosby appeared on stage early in his career, he was an astounding success. Most likely because he was/is a master of making sounds to accompany his routines, but also because he could morph from one personality to another to fit the intended script. Over the top impersonations of little kids squalling their ‘complaints’ and protestations of innocence. A rubber face that paralleled those same antics. He drew us into the moment and we experienced all the times we had experienced similar real antics in our own homes. Those stored memories flooded back to enhance the humor. And we roared our approval. And shed a flood of tears in laughter.

That’s one form of humor. There’s the funny bones of Bob Hope and Jack Benny. Bud Abbot and Lou Costello come to mind as well. But each of these names are historical. Most of today’s audiences don’t recall these humorists. They were from a different time and remembered accordingly, especially by those of us old enough to know their humor.

Eras are part of humor history. An era is a point in time associated with happenings that were connected. World War I humor is an example, also World War II, distinct and separate from other wars. And peacetime as well. Post war 1940’s generated a humor as specific as a fingerprint.  So too the 1950’s as America matured its way from war into prosperity and a sense of world leadership and pride. Then the Cold War dampened that bravado and brought George Carlin’s brand of sarcastic humor to the front. A genius mind focused on hippy dippy weatherman antics that grabbed our funny bones in ways unimagined before. And so it goes, era by era, humor drawing us out of ourselves and allowing us to laugh.

Even during hard times, scary times, moments of deep distress and lack of confidence. To laugh at moments like those is a gift of reprieve. An easing of mind and soul. To relax with a sigh and guffaw. Yes, a gift.

We need to laugh. It restores our emotional balance. It relieves tensions accumulated from days of unrelieved pressures of daily living. The kids, the bills, the job, the commute, the news, the….fill in the blanks. We know our own pressures. And we have social pressures large and small that add their pressure-valve presence in our lives.

In such times as my own, early married, early owner of a very old house tumbling down around our ears, tight financial times, learning to cope with all of these things, suddenly there was Dave Barry. And he wrote humor columns in magazines published by Rodale Press. I forget the magazine we subscribed to at the time, but it helped me cope with living with an old house, the challenges of maximizing utility efficiency in such a home, while also building a modern, healthy home surrounding the family. It was in one of those publications that Dave Barry’s column was printed entitled “How To Make a Board.”  I recall reading this to myself back in 1983 or so. I had begun to laugh. Then paroxysms of laughter, tears, and the beginning of an asthma attack. I stopped reading. Ran upstairs to our bedroom where my wife was putting on makeup for the day. I read the column to her. We both were reduced to quivering, giggling, guffaw-ing blobs.

Dave Barry had struck our funny bone. I didn't know the first thing about taking care of that old house but I had no choice. I was about to learn more than I cared to learn. About taking care of that old house. My weaknesses, my lack of experience, by fright at the prospect of repairing something only wizened old tradesmen could tackle, made me feel quite insecure.

And then Dave Barry entered that space in my mind and had a field day.

He knew how. He was our era’s funny man. From then on we read everything he wrote. Even books. Christmas after Christmas I received books and collections of his columns.

I have to admit I miss Dave Barry. I don’t read him anymore. But then I don’t read Bill Cosby anymore either. It’s the era difference. We are in another time and age. More importantly I’m in another time and age. My perspective has altered the reality of humor for me.

While writing this piece I admit to finding a copy of Barry’s “How to Make a Board” column. I laughed of course. And cried a little too. The times have changed. From one era to another, and yet another, and still another. Time does not stand still. No; our memories do that. And we laugh again. At the same old jokes.

I miss that old board.

January 14, 2015