Ill-timed Giggles

I have to say it was a little unnerving to see one’s sister go from speaking her mind on every matter just several hours prior to that of being a droopy, weepy individual needing assistance down the stairs! Sharon has been dreading this occasion for quite some time, and since she feels she cannot risk a flare-up of her wisdom teeth during the school year, she picked this last weekend to have them extracted. I certainly can feel empathy for the situation, as I have had my own set of wisdom teeth problems, and yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but giggle just a little bit as I went to get the ice packs out of the fridge after helping a weeping sister down the stairs (side effect from anesthesia, they say). And I giggled to myself again just a short time later. And then Jolene and I outright laughed when she came to visit the ill. And even Martin had several broad grins and a few chuckles. Jolene and I have gone through it already, but Martin—I think his chuckle was just a little nervous as he finds himself on the verge of having to go through with the same thing.

Just what is it about wisdom teeth extraction that makes one laugh at another’s obvious discomfort? I have thought about this extensively, and I think it might be the same phenomenon that I go through when I see someone fall—I just can’t help but laugh. It reminds me of Willie, the old man Sharon and I used to take care of several years ago (may he rest in peace). There were very few things he enjoyed more than watching someone fall (which he readily admitted), and on more than one occasion, he and I would sit there in front of his TV going hysterical over someone falling. He took it even a little farther than I did and said the falling people were the main reason he enjoyed basketball. And if a referee happens to fall, well.. Katie, bar the door. I, at least, enjoy basketball for the game itself and not because of the falling people.

At any rate, in my reflections of my ill-timed giggles, I have been reminded of the several occasions I remember of people falling which still bring about hysterical laughter. There was one man I remember who fell in the front of the library at a concert as he was dashing under the projector light. Then there was the lady whose heel was propped up on the base of the podium at the Hutchinson courthouse when our Senior class went to observe parliamentary procedure. When she went to remove her leg, the heel was stuck, and she toppled over—heel, podium, and all. It took HOURS to recover from that one! I didn’t happen to see it, but my cousin Maria described her fall down the stairs into the lap of “the Singing” in such descriptive terms that I feel I “saw” that one too. And I laugh and laugh when I think of it. And then there is [brother] Alvin’s fall down the stairs, about which I routinely go hysterical when it is brought to my remembrance. This one is only outdone by his fall in the shower. Who can forget the several falls of Sara, the numerous ones of Jolene (bless her heart), and the occasional ones from Sharon? And when it comes right down to it, I have had my own share of spills, etc, that others have enjoyed (a certain rocking chair comes to mind). I know, I know—things of this nature are NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY; why, injuries caused by falling can do much damage to one’s anatomy for many years thereafter. I know this, but I just can’t help but laugh anyway. Does that make me a cruel and insensitive person?

I think my fascination with falling comes from a very pivotal childhood memory of watching one of my second grade (?) classmates fall. She was one of the hoity-toity ones to whom things of that nature rarely happened, and indeed, she was The Popular One. All the other girls rushed to her aid and clucked in sympathy. I, on the other hand, was on the sidelines fighting an urge to laugh. I compromised and went for a squinty grin instead. One of the other girls looked at me, and I could think of no way to “save face” other than to furrow my brow, look skyward, and say, “Oh… the sun is so bright today!” And I was dumb enough to tell my family about it, and throughout the years we have all had “the sun is so bright” moments.

I find it interesting how I myself have such a fear of falling, and I approach all stairs and slippery floors defensively. That is, I assume that circumstances are such that I WILL fall, and it is my duty to find a way to live harmoniously with the law of gravity by first of all anticipating the circumstances and then going out of my away to avoid the inevitable. This fear, I am sure, also comes from a particular memory I have of being in the Washerwoman Biddy Thanksgiving play in fourth grade (Sharon and Martin were in that play as well). At any rate, the night of the program, one of my parts required me to sit at a table to eat supper with my “siblings,” Sharon, Lee W., and Micah B. I happened to glance down at (my cousin) Lavern who was sitting on the front bench and he motioned to me to move my chair back, which I did. He told me after the program that the leg of my chair was at the VERY edge of the stage, and he was just praying I didn’t move. And when I realized exactly how close I was to going down in a heap of chair, table, pantaloons, and petticoats (and who knows what the chain reaction would have been) and how lucky I was to have “dodged a bullet,” as they say—well, let’s just say I have been obsessed with preventing what is sure was supposed to have been my fate that night.

Let me assure you that despite the revelations listed above about my Person, I do not generally consider myself to be uncompassionate nor even to be a disturbed individual (although you would undoubtedly think otherwise if you could see the tears and fits of laughter I have had to go through just to write this).

I just enjoy seeing "a good fall” every now and then. Is the ill-timed giggle so terribly wrong?