Today, I am thankful for the most wonderful physical faculty that humans possess – our capacity for laughter.
As the story is told, a young American poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, then a 33-year old woman, was travelling on a train to a festive occasion in Madison, Wisconsin. She was in a good mood, but this was not always the case. Born in Johnstown, Wisconsin, in 1950, Ella’s early life was flooded with devastation. As a young child, she endured significant poverty, after her father lost the family’s entire wealth in one failed business opportunity after another. Her teenage years were similarly marred by the carnage and conflagration of the American Civil War. So, she turned to reading and writing as an outlet for her personal grief. Year later, in 1883, on that train trip to attend the Governor’s Inaugural Ball, her jovial mood turned bleak when she encountered a young widow dressed in black crying over her lost husband in the aisle across from her. For the entire trip, Ella tried desperately to console the woman but to no avail. As the train reached Madison and the woman disembarked, Ella caught a glimpse of herself in the train window, and she reflected on her own lot in life. The next day, she decided to encapsulate her thoughts in a poem – one that would catapult her career as a poet forward:
“Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.”
So begins the first stanza of Wilcox’s renown, short poem, Solitude. Although one might think the poem is rallying cry for optimism, the harsh truth is that the poem is more about the choices we make in our oft-harsh worlds. Wilcox chronicles the importance of maintaining a sensible mindset focused on realistic, practical thinking, even when one’s existence is often punctuated by sorrow, grief, and disappointment. She exalts the power to laugh, sing, and rejoice as a means to avoid the inner pain we often feel in times of anguish and despair. Such measures allow us to connect with others who can comfort us in our time of need.
Indeed, laughter is the best medicine. During Abraham Lincoln’s tumultuous 4 years in the office of the Presidency during the midst of the American Civil War, he often turned to laughter as a coping mechanism to comfort his sorrows. In the midst of the nation’s greatest struggle for survival, Lincoln suffered significant personal loss as well. In 1862, in the midst of military conflagration, Lincoln’s middle son, Willie, died of typhoid fever at the age of eleven. The event left the President’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, with inconsolable grief. Yet, Lincoln persevered. He found comfort in humor and laughter. He would find solace in retelling a funny tale, a quick-witted joke, or a witty anecdote filled with light-hearted humor. As the story goes, Lincoln was once working in his private office when he heard a few of the White House staff laughing in another room. Much to their surprise, he burst in the room to demand what was the cause of the raucous laughter. When one of the staff embarrassingly apologized for disturbing the President, he insisted on knowing what had led to the thunderous uproar. The staff sheepishly admitted that it was a just a joke shared by his colleague. Much to their pleasant surprise, Lincoln insisted that the joke be repeated in the exact manner it was told, without any shortcuts. When the staff member finally came to the climax of his comical tale, Lincoln crashed his right foot down on the floor, slapped his hands against his laps, and let out a thunderous bellow of laughter. Rumor has it that Lincoln repeated the joke several times over the next few days to dignitaries, Congressmen, and other statesmen visiting him in the White House. He even repeated it to his Cabinet.
As Lincoln would say to many of his companions, he relied on the inanity of humor to help him survive the melancholy of his dreadful situation. As he often told his personal friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon, “I live by my humor and would die without it.” He disapproved of those who took themselves too seriously, like his overly somber Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton. A humorless, dour man, Stanton never laughed at any of Lincoln’s amusing quips. One occasion after telling a joke that left everyone in the Cabinet laughing except for Stanton, Lincoln turned to his friend and quipped:“I think it requires a surgical operation to get a joke into your head.”
Lincoln would have appreciated a good joke, even at his own expense. These days, US Presidents are the fodder of late-night talk shows. Things only get worse when Saturdays roll around. The opening skits on Saturday Night Live (SNL) notoriously ridicule and berate the President or other political officials. It’s amazing to think that SNL has survived so long, celebrating its 45th anniversary today (Oct 11). It’s only fitting that the first episode of SNL, produced back in 1975, was hosted by comedian, George Carlin. Like Lincoln, Carlin’s iconoclastic style of humor often riled, if not shocked, his audience. His ‘seven dirty words’ routine was an integral element in the 1978 US Supreme Court Case of the FCC vs. Pacifica Foundation, which ultimately ruled in favor of the government’s ability to regulate indecent material on public radio, television, or other media.
I wonder how Lincoln would have responded to this ruling. My guess is Lincoln would have probably shrugged his large, lanky shoulders and repeated what George Carlin once eloquently said: “Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.”
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