Laughing at myself

Friday night I drove to Oromilaca for a meeting of their youth community.

I goth there early and went to the house where we were going to meet. I ended up playing with a precocious three year old, Jefferson, while waiting for the young people to arrive.

I have been meeting with the youth groups or communities in the parish to get to know what they are doing and how I can help them. I also try to bring a theme to work on with them.

This is a group of about 18 people, including some non-young people who accompany the young people. One of the young men had prepared a theme but let me develop the one I had brought – on friendship.

My method is to involve as many as possible in the process. I recalled the song “I want a million friends,” and asked them if they could really have a million friends – outside of Facebook. (Yes, Facebook is well known among the young people who access Facebook on their phones.)

I asked the young people how many real friends they have. Typically the answers were three or four, though one guy said he had thirty!

Then we shared what we liked to do with our real friends. Most said talk, share joys and difficulties.

Then I put a piece of paper on the floor and asked them to write down qualities of a good friend, without saying what they are writing. I do it this way so that everyone has a chance to share.

Then I read the contributions. At one point I was having trouble reading what was written and asked for help. A young man came forward and turned the paper. I was trying to read it upside down! We all started laughing – and I broke into a belly laugh. (The accompanying photo is from 2011 but is fitting.)

We finished sharing what was written and then added a few things that were missing. Not surprisingly one aspect of a good friend that no group had written was the ability to forgive and to ask for forgiveness.

We continued and then I had them write what damages or destroys a friendship. They rushed the paper and wrote down their thoughts.

After more sharing, I read the passage of love in the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. I then re-read the passage, substituting “friend” for the places where Paul writes love. It is strikingly apt.

However, I kept on saying “love” instead of “friend” and they corrected me and we laughed together.

It was a great hour and a half and I left, to drive back the half hour to Plan Grande in the twilight. But it had been a great experience – in great part because I could laugh – at myself.

Laughter

A few days ago I began to read Marie Luise Knott’s Unlearning with Hannah Arendt.

In the early 1970s I had Hannah Arendt for classes and seminars at the Graduate Faculty of the New School for Social Research in New York City. She was a breath of fresh air.

But it was not until I started reading Knott’s chapter on “Laughter: The Sudden Turn of the Mind" did I realize that what I most appreciated was her humanness – the twinkle of laughter which one could occasionally glimpse in her eyes.

I am not finished the chapter but I wanted to share two quotes from the book.

In the early 1940s Arendt wrote:

“The friend of the oppressed will always need that great confidence in our fellow men which teaches us to laugh.”

There are too many overly serious persons seeking to change the world and to be in solidarity with the oppressed. We need the hope of laughter and confidence in others that Arendt noted.

The other quote is from Walter Benjamin whose thought she admired:

“Let me note in passing that there is no better starting place for thought than in laughter. Specifically, the convulsion of the diaphragm usually offers better opportunities for thought than the convulsion of the soul.”

I think we need a lot more laughter in our lives and in our world – so that we can think more freely and more imaginatively and so that we can be real friends with the oppressed.

More thoughts to come - as the laughter continues!

Viejito - old guy

The other day in the market here in Santa Rosa I passed by a booth and a kid called out “Viejito.” I pretended to be offended. When the kid saw me a few minutes later, he apologized.

“Viejito” – old man; “abuelito” – granpops; and even “viejito rancio” – rancid old man: there are all often affectionate ways people address older men. It takes a little bit getting used to.

But now that I turn 67 tomorrow, I guess I do qualify as an “old guy.”

I also find that as I get older I get more like my father.

Today, I started joking with the workers on my house in Plan Grande. One of the guys was singing and I told he that his singing would scare the roosters. (Where I got that phrase I don’t know.)

The guys thought it was hilarious.

I then told them that I am getting more like my father who was incredible joker and could tell puns like no other person I know.

One of the guys noted that it’s better to be laughing that getting angry.

That's a good thing to remember at my age!