“Hysterical or Historical or Hilarious?”
Several years ago I lived in the area just north of Oak Ridge, Tennessee. It was a wonderful place to call “home”. The area was beautiful. My house was located at the foot of the Cumberland Mountains. From my front porch I had a great view of Caryville Mountain. Even though the evidence of “strip mining” was obvious, the mountain portrayed a sense of dignity and awesomeness. Time spent in my rocking chair gazing on the mountain was not time wasted, it was time invested as my thoughts wandered up and down its steep slopes and investigated its scars; left by those that seem to carelessly scrape away its surface in search of seams of rich black coal.
For me, the best part of being anywhere was not only the scenic beauty of all that is about but it is the beauty of the people who inhabit the houses, attend the schools, work the businesses, populate and energize the churches and places of worship, and reflect the cultural and economic history of the area. The people make the area a “real community”. The place where I lived allowed me the privilege of having great neighbors and developing special friendships.
One of those who became a special friend of mine was a man named Robby. Robby was a real character. He had fun. He had a way of helping others have fun whenever he was in their company. He was tall and skinny. He wore a flat-top haircut. Always, always he was smiling. If you were not smiling when you encountered him, odds were that you would be when you left him. He just had a way about him of saying or doing things that would bring a smile to your face, and in some cases causing you of being accused of having a bad case of “hilarity”.
I remember when a great procession came through our community as runners where carrying the Olympic Torch on the way to the location of the Summer Games. People were lining the shoulders of the main highway running through our community in hopes of seeing the flaming torch pass by. I remember seeing the flashing lights of law enforcement cars heading in my direction, leading the way. As they got closer to my observation point I saw Robby, wearing his work clothes, break from the side of the road and begin running right behind the law enforcement vehicles. His right hand was held high, bearing his flaming BIC lighter. He was fun!
Once, while in a conversation with several others, Robby said “Let me tell you something about Dianne (his patient and enduring wife). Whenever she and I have an argument, she does not get hysterical. She gets historical. She starts bringing up every old thing that ever happened.” Even though years have passed since I heard him make this statement, I still get a case of hilarity when I think of
Are you a giver of “hilarity”. Why not commit yourself to the task of giving folks a reason to smile? Laughter is a wonderful gift. It is meant to be shared and enjoyed. Whenever you are headed towards the “land of hysteria” (Lots of things can get us headed in that direction.), or get all hung up in being “historical” (Particularly if you are reviewing your inventory of hurts and disappointments. Heaven knows we all have a bunch of those things!); find you a good reason to grin. Put that grin on and see if you can wear it out and see if you can get others to put one on too! Hysteria, historical, or hilarity; our choice.