Laughter is the Best Medicine

There is learning to be had in the very little things in life. And where one cannot learn, one can laugh. Like watching squirrels in the grass sprint to trees at the sound of a passing car in the street. Or the face that the guy at the McDonald's register makes when asked if the McNuggets are free-range chicken. Or the further surprise when his customer only wants a small fry and small soda. Or driving alone at night, and wondering about those sharing the road with you. In all of these occasions there is equal reason to laugh and to learn.

The squirrel scurries and has reason to scurry; it is likely her kin have met gruesome fates after such a noise as a car driving. And McDonald's is obviously catering to a unquestioning and relentlessly consuming populous, rather than the controlled and educated individual. And when alone, we find solace and companionship in the closest human contact possible, even if it is limited to passing each other while driving through Ohio on a dark, rainy night.

Thanksgiving is so completely that! It is the immense joys of laughter and feasting, inlaid with learning and growth. It is a time to remember that we are not alone, and to acknowledge both our elders and those that learn beneath us. In many ways, it is the Christmas rehearsal.

For if a holiday of thanks has so much joy, how much more must Christmas contain!

My uncle was an alcoholic. There is no complete certainty as to what drove him away, but it is certain that over a year ago, he fled the fingers of his vice and joined the AA. Since, we as a family have seen this prickly, over-opinionated doctor become a much gentler and humble man. And beyond the hope of quitting his vice, there is a great sense of spirituality that the AA has nurtured within him. Even he admits that it is a miracle that alcohol has left his veins.

He is the older brother of my mother, and they, along with their brothers, lost their father when my mother was only thirteen. My grandfather was an alcoholic. But there was no movement away. There was no hope for his recovery. His liver eventually received more poison than it could manage, and my grandfather wilted away.

Seeing the effect that it has played out into the second generation of children, the tragedy of such an occurrence is unavoidable. But it is not without hope. For in the learning of the human mind spring the seeds of hope. Over the holiday, I saw this hope in the eyes of my uncle. He is unashamed of this victory, but he also acknowledges that it is not his alone.

And as the holiday progressed, and we met numerous times as a large family, uncles and aunts, cousins and siblings, infants and toddlers, and one grandmother, there was such laughter. But when I laughed, I also watched the people around me. We all laugh in similar, and yet unique ways. And no one laughed harder than my uncle.