I did a lot of my growing up in the newsroom of a daily newspaper, where I started working at the age of 16, and somewhere along the way, the experience taught me to appreciate gallows humor.
Sometimes, the only feasible thing to do in a crisis is to laugh – hard – and even inappropriately. Journalists aren’t the only ones who share this sense of humor. Paramedics, firefighters, police officers and ER staff also are known to laugh in the face of crisis. It’s not about a disrespect for life – it’s about understanding that bad things happen, life goes on, and none of us can afford to take things too seriously.
Becoming a mom of two small humans and going into public education has eliminated a lot of that behavior, but one of the things that surprises me in this strange, unprecendented season is how quick I am to laugh about most anything. Here, for your viewing (or scrolling pleasure), are a few things cracking me up these days.
- The idea that every darned person I encounter online seems to believe they are at least a part-time epidemiologist. People who can’t even correctly spell the word with consistency have strong opinions about why it is or is not wise to continue shelter in place orders, send kids back to school or close the playgrounds and fishing holes. Often, these people even insist that I should believe them, over, say, internationally recognized doctors, scientists and researchers. Hilarious, right?
- Dogs. All of the dogs are making me laugh these days. My own two crack me up because early on in the shelter in place order, I was convinced they were plotting together – possibly with our parakeet, Beignet – to kick us out of our own home. They downright glared at us when, day after day, we refused to leave their house. Now, they seem to have settled into a new approach: They are allowing us to remain here, but only if we serve them in a way that meets their expectations. This includes taking them on multiple walks in a day, feeding them like clockwork and doling out snacks repeatedly. And it’s not just my own dogs making me laugh. I’ve become the person that laughs aloud at random, poorly executed pet videos on Youtube. If this doesn’t tell you I’m on the brink, nothing will.
- People on parenting pages who are fretting about how to make sure their college student continues to do their coursework online. Seriously? Weren’t they living in a dorm and successfully getting themselves to class, turning in assignments and preparing for tests without your support before they were forced to return home? Were you doing their coursework then? If not, why are you tackling it now, just because they are under your roof? (I would argue the same is true for high school students. I check for completion with both of my children. If they are stumped, I encouraged them to reach out to their teacher. If that doesn’t work, I try to help them find a solution. I realize this isn’t feasible for students who need extra support, but for the average high school student, it seems reasonable.)
- Ads for pricey dress clothes. Really, Anthropologie, Macy’s, etc.? You think I need that $250 dress or pair of strappy dress shoes to “be summer ready? Let’s see if I will even be seeing anyone beyond my dogs, my husband and my teenagers first. Consumerism has always been a little ridiculous, but it’s downright laughable right now.
- College recruitment materials aimed at my high school freshman and sophomore. I still really hope both of my kids will go to college and land in a career they love. But I also am painfully aware that the world is changing at a breakneck pace. The idea of taking on significant debt to go to an out-of-state school – or even an in-state school immediately – just seems foolhardy right now. Community college or an online program that doesn’t include the cost of room and board is very appealing these days. It’s hard to know how to choose an education when you can’t even begin to picture the sort of world you are being educated for. That makes brochures and postcards showing cushy libraries and coffee shops and jam-packed athletic events feel laughably absurd right now.
- My own tendency to fret over things actually has become a prime source of amusement. I mean, I have invested a lifetime in trying to anticipate the next bad thing in hopes of being prepared. I’ve anticipated and planned for all sorts of things – getting trapped in quicksand (thanks, 1980s Saturday morning cartoons), amnesia (thanks, handful of soap operas I saw at Grandma’s house), cancer, the death of pretty much everyone I have ever loved, wrongful imprisonment (thanks, Scared Straight assemblies at my Title I middle school), and drug addiction (thanks, creepy newspaper articles about LSD laced stickers at parks in 1982-1984). I’ve also spent decades dodging parked cars, because at some point my mom warned me that someone might be waiting in one, crouched over and ready to leap out and attack me, possibly with a butcher knife. But I somehow never got the memo that I should be fretting about a pandemic that forced everyone I know to stay at home – possibly for months on end – as the economy collapsed around us. I like to think this will break my habit of worrying – since clearly I have devoted a lifetime to worrying about the wrong thing. But not worrying? Well, it kind of worries me.
- Zoom bingo. It’s so juvenile, but it cracks me up how at some point most Zooms include unofficially mandatory sayings like “Unmute yourself! We can’t hear you!” And, “can you hear me now?” And, “Hi. Is X on the call now?” The awkward silence before meetings officially kick off also make me snicker. There seems to be some sort of emerging norm about not making small talk with each other while waiting for a work Zoom to begin. What is that? Why wouldn’t we make small talk the same way we would while awaiting the start of an in-person meeting? Amusing ….
What about you? What are you laughing about in these strange times? Do you find you are quicker to chuckle while grappling with crisis? Or am I alone in that? Because if so, that worries me – kind of like quicksand …..
Monique Writes All 